Permanent Ink (Something to Celebrate #1) (26 page)

She turned to go, but then a familiar voice called her name. Lola. And her voice was one that Blair wasn’t about to ignore, no matter the circumstances. She’d never ignore Lola again. She’d spent months doing that before coming to Celebration, and now that she was here—now that she loved the place, she couldn’t imagine cutting herself off from her family.

Shading her eyes, she scanned the line of floats for one that had drooping red paper flowers covering the edge, and when she saw it, she ran as fast as she could toward it.

Lola, who stood on the flatbed in one of her old suits from her days as an attorney, beamed down at Blair from between the arches of a crooked crepe-paper rose arbor. “Darling,” she said. “It seems that we’ve switched places.”

“What do you mean?” Blair asked, out of breath.

“Last time I saw you at a parade, I was down there and you were up here. My, how things have changed since then.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder and motioning to Bill and Kaley, who stood behind her. They walked up to stand on either side of Lola, their arms around her waist. Bill, looking the very picture of a president, and Kaley, breathtaking in a demure bridal gown. Her veil floated out behind her in the hot breeze.

“We love you, Blair.” Kaley smiled. “No matter what.”

Blair’s voice choked. “I love you all, too.”

“Everyone’s talking about how fantastic this all is,” Lola said. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bill nodded. “It’s the biggest parade I’ve ever seen in this town. People will be talking about it for years.”

Kaley grimaced. “I know we didn’t get it all finished and some of the floats look like dog crap, but…I kind of like it that way. Um…are you okay with it?”

Blair gave her the most grateful look she could manage. “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

Lola clapped. “That’s the spirit.”

“Where’s Ben?” Kaley asked.

“He’s at his studio. He’s going to watch from in front, then meet me at the gazebo afterwards.” Blair sighed.

“Darling, you have the rest of your life with him. Be patient.” Lola laid her head on Bill’s shoulder. “And good luck with the judges!”

With a weak smile, Blair waved at her family and began to walk back down to Main Street.

She had the rest of her life with Ben.

As long as she kept telling herself that, she would be okay.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Standing on the steps of the gazebo, facing Enterprise Street, Blair waved until her arm was pins and needles. The parade was almost over, and judging by the happy faces crowding the sidewalk, it had been a success. At least from Celebration’s perspective.

Nobody had even blinked at Mount Rushmore. Or at the Spaghetti mountain. A few people had blinked at Alberta and her cats, but not that many. Even Missy Parkett had come through unscathed. Blair was pretty certain that a good amount of the people watching didn’t even know who she was—or had seen the movies she’d been in.

That was because there were tons of people—so many that little Celebration almost seemed like a city. It was hard to pick out the residents of Celebration among the folks in American flag T-shirts and baseball caps who had come from neighboring towns. Some carried babies; others carried cameras. They stood side by side with people already in town for Ink Fest—heavily tattooed girls in skimpy skirts and guys wearing a lot of fierce-looking leather. It was surreal, and there were so many heads on the other side of the street that a few times during the parade, Blair had lost track of Ben, which was kind of amazing. He was hard to miss.

She craned her neck, looking for him again. There. With a big smile, she waved him over.

He pointed at the giant flatbed holding a nineteen forties family that was rolling by and shook his head. “I’ll wait,” he mouthed.

She nodded, but she didn’t want him to wait. It was almost over—she’d almost managed to get through the morning and all she had left to do was face the judges—one of whom was Leon the Loser. Having her former boss standing right behind her, his accusing eyes boring into the back of her head, was not pleasant. She hadn’t bothered to greet him when she’d seen him. What was the point? It wasn’t as if she was trying to win the contest.

All she wanted right now was to feel Ben’s arms around her. She wanted it so bad that she felt herself leaning forward, even though she was separated from him by a collection of middle-aged women in flapper dresses doing a terrible imitation of the Charleston on top of the Roaring Twenties float. Sheila touched the feather on her headband and nodded at Blair—a tip of an imaginary hat. Goose bumps ran up Blair’s spine. She hadn’t thought that Sheila’s approval would matter so much, but it did.

The thirties and forties went by and then Blair spotted another group of women in poodle skirts riding on a float titled “Celebration-ing the Fifties”. Barb stood on the edge, her square-dance dress sticking out like a bright pink checkered sore thumb. She grinned and waved at Blair.

A few minutes later Paula gave her the peace sign from the “It’s a Groovy Celebration” float. Blair gave it back and then waved enthusiastically. But she was getting impatient for it all to be over with.

She watched the seventies through the nineties ride by, and then the final float—which for whatever convoluted reason—was Abe chopping down the cherry tree. How in the hell had the float order gotten so mixed up?

Just as she was breathing a sigh of relief, a loud roar sounded from down the block, and a formation of Harleys came around the corner, their riders heavily tattooed and naked from the waist up, except for star-spangled top hats on their heads, and long, fake white beads streaming in the wind. As they rode by, they saluted. The last rider had a sign attached to the back of his bike advertising Ink Fest. The crowd roared. Blair gaped.

Behind her, the three judges burst out laughing. The one who laughed loudest of all? Leon. He was gloating—she didn’t need to turn around to see it.

Blair winced. Maybe she’d allowed it to go a little too far with Abe, but the tattooed motorcycle gang hadn’t been her idea. Well—it didn’t matter anymore. It was finally over and—

“Miss Whitaker? Could I speak with you, please?”

Blair turned around reluctantly and smiled at the judge who’d spoken behind her. He stood on the gazebo platform—tall and thin with a sleek white ponytail—Oliver Gibson, the CEO of Expectations, Inc. A little overbearing, but then, most CEOs were.

A few weeks ago, she would have been falling all over herself to get his attention because of who he was. But now, all she wanted was for this to be over and to run across the street and disappear with Ben into the safety and comfort of his studio.

“Miss Whitaker, did you hear me?” He gave her an impatient look. “Hang on, I’ll come down there.”

He jogged down the steps, a tablet computer in one hand, sliding sunglasses on with the other. “I was saying that we’re all very entertained—by the parade, most of all, but the crowd was amazing. So unique. Very inspiring.”

Blair smiled back.
Even Leon thought that? Yeah, right.
“It’s a small town and we did our best, Mr. Gibson.”

“Call me Oliver. And I should say you did do your best.” He leaned in. “In fact, I’m not supposed to say anything yet, but we’ve come to a decision, and we wanted to let you know. No need to keep you in suspense.”

There was a loud cough behind her and Blair turned around. Leon stood three feet away, his arms crossed over the front of his too-tight suit. He always thought that he looked edgy in a European cut, but she’d always thought he looked a lot like a jelly doughnut stuffed into a wool sack. He still did. He shrugged a shoulder in her direction. “Hello, Blair.” Disdain dripped from his nasally voice.

He didn’t intimidate her one bit. Not on her home turf. And really—not ever again. “Leon. You look…” She couldn’t finish. Not without laughing.

He rolled his eyes and turned to Oliver. “Could we discuss the results again? I’m very concerned that—”

Oliver sighed loudly. “Would you leave me alone, please? You have no
idea
how to properly judge a parade, nor do you seem to know how to do simple math. If three other judges hadn’t come down with flu, you wouldn’t be here at all. Your incompetence is truly embarrassing. Really, why don’t you run along back to Manhattan? We’re as good as finished here.” He gave Leon a patronizing smile.

Blair choked on a laugh.

Leon’s mouth dropped open, and a second later, he was scuttling up the steps, grabbing his briefcase, and back down the other side. When he was gone, Oliver turned back to her. “I’m
so
sorry about that. Now, as I was saying, the result have been tabulated and we’ve made our decision.”

Blair took a deep breath. “Excuse me, but what do you mean? How could you have made a decision so quickly? Aren’t there other towns and other judges and—”

He cut her off with an impatient wave. “There’s this little thing called technology. We’ve already submitted our scores electronically and it turns out…”

He trailed off and smiled. Which was kind of mean.

Because here it came. The big fat elimination.

We’re so sorry, but your town didn’t quite make the cut.

She took a deep breath and looked at him. “Okay. What’s the verdict?”

“Verdict? This isn’t a trial, Miss Whitaker. It’s a celebration of the diversity of American culture. In Celebration.” Oliver’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “We all love the name of the town…and how you’ve incorporated it into the theme? Brilliant.”

“Um…thanks. But you don’t need to sugarcoat it.”

His smile got bigger. “I don’t know how I can sugar coat a win. A win is a win, right?” He held out the tablet and flicked the screen open. “See?”

Blair’s eyes went round as she stared at the list of towns. Celebration was on top, with 95 percent next to it. The next listed town was in the eightieth percentile. It was obvious. A clear win—but she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “A…what? You’re saying that…”

“We’ve chosen Celebration as the winner of the American Family parade contest.” He reached out and pumped her hand in a brisk handshake. “And you—well. I’ll be very happy to have you come aboard at Expectations, Inc. You’ll need to start immediately, of course.”

Though this man was obviously more competent, his brusque tone reminded Blair of all the times that Leon had railroaded her, and suddenly, disgust joined the rising sense of dread in her heart.

“Um…” Blair couldn’t catch her breath. The noise of the parade tunneled around her and she gripped the man’s hand. “I…I’m so surprised. Just—could you give me a minute?”

“Aren’t you the dramatic one?” He wiggled his fingers out of her grasp.

Blair’s vision started to narrow. “I’m…okay.” She sat down on the steps—hard.

The remaining judge rushed down the steps to awkwardly pat her arm, but as much as she wanted to assure the woman that she was fine, she couldn’t.

After she’d begun to let the parade planning slide, she’d agonized about what would happen if she’d win in spite of everything, but she hadn’t given
any
thought to what would happen at the podium. In front of all these people. Now, she did think about it. Forced herself to do it.

Okay. In a few minutes, they’d announce the win, of course. The town would be thrilled, but then there would be another announcement—the one about her being awarded the position with Expectations. The announcement that she would be leaving Celebration.

No.
No, no, no.

Maybe she could tell them to leave that part out. Maybe she could—

“Move out of the way, yeah? I need to get to her.”

Ben’s voice reached her ears, and Blair lifted her head, knowing that her face was probably white. Knowing that shock was written all over it.

Ben pushed his way toward her and bent to gather her in his arms. “What is it? What happened?”

Oliver let out a nervous chuckle. “She’s in a bit of shock, I think, since she just found out that Celebration won the contest.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open. “Blair! That’s so great.”

He pulled her into a hug and she clung to him, breathing in his scent. Maybe it would all still be okay.

“And then when I reminded her that she’d won a position with my firm, she almost keeled over, poor girl.” Oliver reached down and cuffed her on the shoulder.

Ben went still.

He was going to pull away and Blair couldn’t…no.
No
. She wrapped her arms tighter.

Ben pulled away and lifted her chin, making her look at him.

“What is he talking about?” His voice was flat.

“I…” She shook her head.

“Blair, what is he talking about?” Ben asked.

Before she could form any words, Oliver chuckled.

“This contest is pretty special,” he said. “Not only does the
town
win, but the person who planned the parade wins, too. My firm rewards talent and hard work, and she certainly deserves that job waiting for her in New York City. She’s starting in a week.”

Blair let out a shuddering breath and looked at Ben. His face was grim.

She gazed at him, even as her heart began to break, but she didn’t look away. He deserved at least that much.

“Ben—”

“So all this time you’ve been planning the parade…making it bigger and bigger…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Ben…” she tried again.

“All this time,” he continued, “you were setting it up so that you’d win. So that you could leave town and go back to the city.”

It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “At first. But that was before I—”

“Here, now,” Oliver said quickly. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

Blair glanced at him, but didn’t respond.

Oliver let out a disbelieving laugh. “Why would you do that? Celebration will have to forfeit the prize money. I didn’t agree to supervise judging this event for nothing. I want my intern.” He looked at the other judge. “Grab that microphone. I want to make the announcement before we lose this young lady.” He turned and jogged up the gazebo steps.

“No.” Blair’s legs were shaky, but she stood up and reluctantly let go of Ben. Clinging to him obviously wasn’t helping anything.

“I’m not going to take the job,” she told him.

He folded his arms. “That’s your decision. But I guess it was nice to have insurance, wasn’t it?”

“Insurance?” Blair glanced over at the gazebo, where Oliver, with quick motions, was corralling the other judge into place. The huge crowd on the commons looked up expectantly when he tapped on the microphone.

“Yeah. In case things didn’t work out for you in Celebration.” Ben shrugged. “But what I suspect is that you never intended to stay here at all. You knew that the people in this
dumb
little hick town would fall all over themselves to try and win a contest for you.”

When her hands went to her mouth he gave her a tight smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“I changed my mind, Ben. And when I did—”

“Save it, Blair.” He started to walk away, but turned after a few steps. “You should have told me, you know. A long time ago. It’s not like you didn’t have the opportunity.” His voice faltered. “I would have understood then. But now?” He shook his head.

From the corner of her eye, Blair saw Sheila stomping down the sidewalk of the town commons, elbowing people out of the way as she went. She was flanked by Paula and Barb, and no doubt they were all eager to hear the results. Well, they would be happy, at least.

But they weren’t. The closer they got, the more Blair could see of their angry faces, and she wanted nothing more than to bolt. The only thing keeping her feet rooted in place was the fact that Ben was still there. He hadn’t walked away. Yet.

From the gazebo, Oliver cleared his throat. “Care to wind up your conversation, Miss Whitaker? The natives are getting restless.”

Blair didn’t answer him. She glanced at Ben and then walked forward to meet Sheila.

“Is something wrong, Sheila?”

“Yes. You’re a two-faced little witch, that’s what’s wrong.”

She practically spit the words at her, and Blair almost stumbled backward.

“I can’t believe you,” Shelia went on. “Show her, Barb.”

With a sniff, Barb reached into her purse and yanked out a piece of paper. “Care to explain?” She shoved it into Blair’s hands.

Blair’s face went hot with shame as she stared down at it. It was a list. A list of pros and cons that she’d made three weeks ago, helping her to decide which actions would best wreck the parade. She’d even dated it. She’d been done in by her own stupid list.