7
Josh
The parking lot out in front of Pop’s is empty, aside from the red Mini.
“I don’t know.” Brynn stares at the keys in her hand. “We could go back into town? Or maybe back to Sloan’s house? Or I guess I can call it my house now—which makes me feel much better about breaking and entering this morning.”
Up until now, I assumed that Brynn and I were still on the same page. The one where we both agreed that this whole situation was screwed up and that our objective was to get home, not to give in to some weirdo’s fucked-up fantasy.
“Wait, you’re saying you actually want to play along with this guy? Pretend that you’re some fictional character?”
She holds up her hands. “Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t see you coming up with any other brilliant suggestions.”
I don’t have any brilliant suggestions. I’m still piecing together everything that happened back in that diner. All I know is that whatever this place is, I don’t want to be stuck in it.
“What if we just leave?” It sounds so obvious now that I’ve said it. “You said we’re in Massachusetts, right? Maybe we can drive home? We have a car. A full tank of gas. Do you know the way out of here?”
Brynn thinks about the idea for a moment. “I guess we could try. Carson’s Cove is an island, but there is a bridge to the mainland at the other end of Main Street. We could go check it out and see if it’s still there.”
“Great. Give me the keys.” I move to swipe the keys from her hand, but she pulls them to her chest before I can grab them.
“What? No. It’s my car!”
“First of all, no, it’s not. And second of all, you literally hit me twenty minutes ago. I’m driving.”
She rolls her eyes but tosses me the keys with a disgruntled “Fine.”
I slide in, start the car, and confirm that we do in fact have a full tank of gas before pulling out of the parking lot.
We drive back through town. Brynn doesn’t say much, and I’m still a little shocked at the sight of this small town, which looks so stereotypically normal that it’s hard to believe it isn’t real.
There’s a flower shop with yellow buckets outside filled with bright bouquets of flowers. A beauty parlor with women inside getting their hair done. And then, at the edge of town, that redbrick bar, the one with the apartment on top, where I woke up this morning.
Once we pass the buildings, the smooth pavement gives way to packed gravel and potholes.
“Right there.” Brynn points to a bend up ahead, where the road disappears into a forest of Douglas firs. “That road should lead us to the bridge and take us off the island.”
I rev the Mini Cooper’s engine as if confirming that the car is up to the task.
We clip down the road at a solid eighty clicks, forest flying by on both sides until the ocean’s blue waters appear ahead.
The bridge.
Proof that whatever is happening isn’t quite as weird as we think.
As we clear the trees, the forest opens up to a rocky beach and a two-lane steel structure that looks old, but secure enough to travel across.
There’s a rhythmic thwack, thwack, thwack as we leave the land behind and the ocean surrounds us on either side.
With every turn of the tires, the imaginary vise that’s been squeezing my chest since I woke up this morning loosens just a little more.
But then I slam on the brakes. Brynn jolts forward as her seatbelt catches.
“What the heck is that?” Brynn says it before I can.
Ahead of us, on the bridge, is a thick white mist that was definitely not there a moment ago.
“I think it’s just fog,” I answer with far more certainty than I feel.
Brynn twists around in her seat to look out the rear window, then whips back around. “I think we should go back. That doesn’t look like normal fog.”
A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells me she’s right. The road behind us is clear and sunny.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” I straighten my arms and hit the gas. The Mini jerks forward. Our windshield becomes an impenetrable wall of wispy white.
But as quickly as we are into it, we’re out.
The thwacking gives way to the crunching of gravel, and we’re once again surrounded by another tall forest.
I breathe a deep sigh of validated relief. “See. Regular old fog. We’re not dealing with the paranormal here. There’s an explanation. I don’t know what the fudge it is, but—”
All at once, I get this strange sensation.
Like the blood in my veins has turned to solid ice.
“You can’t swear.” Brynn’s voice is barely a whisper.
“Darn it.”
“Jesus H. Christmas.”
“Mother of pearl.”
Fuuuuuuuccccckkkk.
“I can swear in my head. It just comes out all wrong.” I open my mouth to try again but stop as the forest clears and Pop’s Old-Fashioned Diner comes into view.
Followed by the beauty shop.
The flower shop.
The redbrick building where I woke up this morning.
Then the most fucked-up sensation of déjà vu.
We’re back in Carson’s Cove.
But we can’t be.
“I’m going to try again,” I tell her.
I rev the engine, determined to prove that this is all some sort of misunderstanding.
The car speeds into the forest….
Then over the bridge…
Then into the mist…
And we’re spat right back out where we started.
My insides feel hollow. Like any hope I may have had was scooped out and left back there on the bridge.
“So…” Brynn side-eyes me as I slow the car to a much more reasonable speed. “I think we can officially cross driving home off the list?”
I pull the car into an empty parking spot in front of the bakery and cut the engine. My mind is still processing what just happened.
There’s no way out of this place.
We’re trapped.
“Okay.” I undo my seatbelt so I can face Brynn. “Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that we give Sheldon the happy ending he wants. What exactly would we need to do?”
Brynn undoes her seatbelt as well, then sucks her lower lip between her teeth before releasing it with a long breath. “Well, in the last episode, Sloan finally realizes she loves Spencer, but she knows that he still sees her as this sweet and innocent girl next door. So she enters the Ms. Lobsterfest pageant to try to win the crown and show Spencer and everyone else in town that she’s a grown woman, worthy of love, which I fully acknowledge sounds horrifically cheesy and even borderline icky—but I promise you it was a really good episode.”
She glances over at me as if expecting me to say something, but I don’t.
“Anyway,” Brynn continues, “the day of the pageant arrives, and Sloan has this whole plan to tell Spencer how she feels once she’s a certified beauty queen, but her evening gown gets stolen, and Lois, the pageant director, won’t let her on the stage, so she’s disqualified and devastated. She runs to the gazebo to have a good cry, and Spencer follows her. It starts to rain. It’s, like, the most romantic scene you can ever imagine. Spencer basically hints that he’s got big feelings for Sloan, but for some unknown reason that I’m going to attribute to the writers wanting a dramatic season cliff-hanger, she chickens out and never ends up telling him that she’s in love with him, and then he goes off to LA and she moves to Paris for the summer to be a fashion intern and that’s how the show ended.”
Brynn leans her head against the seat and studies me as if looking for a reaction. My thumbs drum against the wheel as I mentally dig through everything she just told me.
“Okay, so we need Spencer and Sloan to finally get together.”
Brynn nods. “I think so.”
“Can we just go to this Spencer guy’s house? You can tell him how Sloan feels, make out a little, and then we’re good to go?”
Brynn stares at me as if I suggested something stupid. “That’s not how this show works. I can’t just show up and make out with Spencer. There were five seasons of agonizing slow burn. Carson’s Cove has a formula. Besides…we have a bigger problem.”
“What?”
“Sheldon mentioned that Sloan had to win the pageant. If that humongous banner hanging above the main street is right, we’re stuck here for at least a couple of weeks.”
“So until then, we’d have to…”
She nods, following my thought. “Pretend to be Fletch and Sloan.”
Damn. That’s what I thought she was going to say.
I lean back, close my eyes, and let out a very frustrated groan.
“Hey.” Brynn rubs the side of my arm with her knuckles. “How about this? We stick together and play along for a little while, just until we get a sense of how this place works. Or…until we can find Sheldon or another way out of here.”
Stay here. Be them.
It’s not what I want to do at all. Yet I don’t see any better alternatives.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Brynn rests her head against the window and stares out at the sidewalk. “I know it isn’t ideal. But Carson’s Cove is a great town. If we’re going to get trapped in some nonexistent dimension, I feel like we could have done a lot worse. I think you’ll change your tune when you finally get to try one of Pop’s—”
She stops speaking suddenly.
I wave my hands in front of her face. “Brynn?”
My eyes follow hers to the sidewalk across the street, where there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly notable going on.
“Huh?” Her eyes focus back on mine, as if she didn’t hear my question.
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Why?”
“You just stopped talking in the middle of a sentence.”
“Oh.” Brynn blinks. “Uh, right. I was thinking we should probably split up.”
“What are you talking about? You literally just said that we would stick together.”
She opens her door and steps out onto the sidewalk, and I scramble after her, once again utterly confused.
“I, uh…meant it metaphorically. But yeah, we should definitely split up. That way, we can cover more ground. It will be easier to find Sheldon this way. You can go back to the Bronze—that’s the name of the bar where I’m pretty sure you woke up. And I will cover”—she gestures to the area across the street—“over there. And then we can meet up in a little bit and share what we’ve found out.”
Something’s up. My spidey senses are overloaded, seeing as this whole day has been weird, but I’d be an idiot not to notice that there’s something she isn’t telling me. Not to mention the fact that I have no desire to set foot in the place where I woke up this morning. What did she call it again? The Bronze?
“Yeah, I’m not going back to that bar.”
Brynn throws up her arms. “Why? It’s just a bar. If anything, it should feel like home to you.”
It does. That’s exactly the problem.
“Can’t I just come with you?”
Brynn glances across the street again. “I really think it’s better if I go off alone. Just for a little while. Sloan’s the town sweetheart. It might throw them off to see her with your whole…” She makes an erratic gesture at my body as she starts to inch backward.
I shake my head. “But what if I run into someone? I don’t know anything about this place.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “How about I give you a crash course?”
She pulls me over to one of the benches under a giant maple tree. “I obviously can’t catch you up on all five seasons, but the good news is that you’re Fletcher Scott. You’re broody and aloof, so if you don’t recognize someone, you can make a smart-ass comment and no one will notice, but you do need to know your friends. First up is Sloan Edwards. She’s Carson’s Cove’s sweetheart. Practically perfect in every way. She was orphaned at sixteen and then emancipated. A virgin…although it’s been fifteen years, so who knows.” Brynn shrugs. “Up next is Spencer Woods. Dreamboat. Golden retriever energy. Lives next door to Sloan. They’ve been BFFs since primary school.”
This guy I do remember from last night. “He’s the one with the hair, right?”
Brynn doesn’t try to hide her smile. “Blond and beautiful. You’re catching on.”
“Yup. I think I got it.”
Brynn holds up her hand. “We’re not quite done yet. There’s also Poppy Bensen. Sloan’s other best friend. Fiery redhead. Her hair matches her personality. You’ll understand what I mean when you meet her. Poppy’s queen of everything. Cheer captain. Class president. Four-time Ms. Lobsterfest winner.”
“Impressive,” I say. “And not cliché at all.”
Brynn gives me a flat look. “Then you’re going to love this. Poppy has a nemesis: Luce Cho. Certified mean girl. If someone is in Poppy’s way, it’s usually Luce.”
I think I got it. “So, Spencer, Sloan, Poppy, and Luce. Is that it?”
Brynn nods. “Only one you’re missing is Fletcher Scott.”
“That’s me?”
Brynn smiles. “America’s favorite bad boy. Beloved by fans, not so much by the citizens of the Cove. Fletch is the town’s black sheep. He works part-time at his aunt Sherry’s bar, the Bronze. It’s a bit of a dive. Not really that busy from what I can remember.”
A pit forms in my stomach. All of this is hitting a little too close to home.
“Don’t worry.” Brynn reaches up and squeezes my shoulder. “You are going to be fine. No one really expects too much from Fletch.”
For whatever reason, that one stings a bit.
“So you want me to just hang around the bar all day?”
She nods. “Pretty much.”
“What are you going to do?”
She eyes what looks to be a fudge shop across the street. “I’m going to look around as well. See if I can find any of the other main characters. They may know something we don’t.”
I don’t love this plan. But I also don’t have a better one.
“Fine. But how do I find you? I don’t have my phone.”
Brynn looks down at her pocketless lululemon leggings. “Neither do I. How about I come to find you later at the Bronze?”
Before I can tell her that I don’t like the sound of any of this, she runs across the street and disappears into the fudge shop.
Okay, fine.
Pretend to be this Fletch guy.
He’s a bartender. I’m a bartender.
He’s the black sheep of his family. At least if I screw up, it’s expected.