Egg Whites and Blue

Chapter 3-2

Kiko did not look forward to Dom’s opinion of the situation. So when he opened the door to the truck he tossed the book on the dash and decided to take the initiative.

“This doesn’t sway me, Dom.”

“I didn’t say that.” Dom slammed the door as he got in; Kiko paused, not starting the engine.

“Sander’s clearly being manipulative.”

“What I care is if it’s working. What was your favorite book in high school, Lord of the Rings?” He grabbed up the book before Kiko could respond. “Collected Sherlock Holmes?”

Kiko shrugged, started the truck.

“Surprised? I have an entire shelf of Doyle, not just the Holmes stories.” Dom tossed the book back on the dash as Kiko turned out of the Yolks on You lot. “You really don’t read at all, do you? How many months have you been living with me and you never looked at my bookshelves?”

“That’s not the point here,” said Dom, cradling the pie on his lap. “Your ex kept a book you gave him a decade ago. What does that mean?”

“He’s lazy,” said Kiko, running through a list of options. “He’s manipulative, like I said before. He thought it might be worth something. He’s a hoarder. He thought it made him look smart up on a shelf.”

“He’s not over you.”

“He’s right about you being jealous, isn’t he?”

“I’m only pointing out that it’s suspicious,” said Dom, voice hard, defensive. “Why don’t you care more, if you’re so into mysteries?”

“Because I don’t care about Sander anymore,” said Kiko, hoping Dom could hear the truth in that. It was going to be a tense weekend otherwise. At some point he hoped Dom would realize just how ridiculous he was being, but then, Kiko had come to understand Dom had a stubborn streak. It was endearing when applied to things like the pie competition. It was bordering on angering when it involved Kiko’s ex.

“Well, I’m keeping an eye on him. I don’t like how he’s been acting.”

“Understood,” said Kiko, not wanting to argue about this any longer. “Have you ever read any Holmes?”

“I watched a couple episodes of Sherlock,” said Dom.

Kiko cringed.

“Not the same. At all.”

“Okay, purist. But I think you make a good Watson to my Holmes. I bet if there’s ever another murder we solve it before the cops again.”

“I hope not,” said Kiko, feeling tense at the memories of being held at gunpoint by a murderer. Not something he cared to repeat. “One murder is more than enough for Mount Angus. And I see your ego’s still working. Why are you Holmes?”

“I’m hurt you’d have to ask,” said Dom as Kiko pulled into the grassy space that served for parking.

“Sure,” said Kiko, smiling. They stepped out and walked down the hill into the partially wooded grounds used for Mount Angus’ largest gatherings. The Eggstravaganza’s Grand Hunt was held here every year, sporting literally acres of hidden eggs. But for the Knee High Fourth of July Festival it was transformed another way.

“Looks different,” said Dom as they exited one of the wooded paths to the grounds. At the far end, a stage was set up for the announcing of awards and the selection of live bands that had been lined up. The middle was left free but had been mowed, a long stretch of space for groups to picnic. Along either side were the tiny pop-up buildings and booths, faded red, white, and blue paint covering their plywood surfaces.

“The pie contest is down by the stage,” said Kiko, veering left. “The food contests and judges are kept close to where they’ll announce the winners. I’m going to go check out the stand I rented for Yolks on You.”

“What’re you doing again?” asked Dom, and Kiko held back a sigh. He’d only mentioned this to Dom about five times already.

“Egg and spoon races.”

“Right, right,” said Dom, nodding. “Half the proceeds go to charity.”

“Half of everyone’s proceeds do,” said Kiko. “And believe me, the area food banks are grateful.”

They split, Dom making his way to register his wilting pie and Kiko to a stand with the number 34 taped to it, the space he’d reserved a year ago after the last Knee High festival. His booth this year was covered with old white paint, yellowed and flaking now. He wondered whether anyone on the Village Board would be trying to rope him into donating time to sand and repaint this year.

Still, the weathered paint had a kind of rustic charm to it. Kiko could work with it. He’d decorate around the window with chicken wire and some wooden birds he had—he thought he had a few red and blue ones. He’d been given the stand at the end of the line of booths so that he could have the additional space to the right for the races, which he’d be lining out once he retrieved his plastic tote of supplies from the truck. For now, he ripped the paper number off the front of the booth and inspected the inside for wasps. Nothing.

“Thank god you’re not the girl scouts.”

Kiko nearly jumped at the voice; though familiar, it was directly behind him. He turned to find Buddy Miller, owner of the Mount Angus Brewing Company, standing behind him in his characteristic flannel shirt despite the July weather. He was holding a sweating beer.

“Morning, Buddy.”

“Want one?” asked Buddy, indicating with his half-empty bottle.

“Not hot enough yet,” said Kiko, exiting the stand. Despite the fact that Buddy would be bringing in kegs of beer for his booth, Kiko was certain what he was drinking now was from a well-stocked cooler he’d brought along for the setup process. “Are you my neighbor this year?”

He hoped so—Buddy’s stand was always an adult favorite. Kiko could see parents giving their kids a few bucks to participate in egg and spoon races while they allowed themselves a cold beverage. It would have to be better than last year’s neighboring booth, which ended up being both vacant and full of wasps. Half the festival was over before the wasps had been dealt with, and they had really kept the kids away.

“Looks like it. Got the boy scouts on the other side of me. Already had two dirty looks from parents here for setup. Figured it’d just be my luck after everything to have the girl scouts on the other side.”

Buddy took a swig from his bottle and Kiko knew he was thinking about Buddy Angus, his once-pet cow. The poor animal had met an unfortunate end during the Eggstravaganza and Buddy was not yet over the loss. There were rumors he was developing a new beer to honor the cow, despite already having named a brew called Muddy Angus after it.

“Not this time. How many varieties are you offering this year?”

“Just the three like usual.”

“Bringing back the Red, Wheat, & Blue?” asked Kiko, remembering he’d liked that last year. Wheat ale brewed with raspberries and blueberries had a very summery taste about it.

“Yeah,” said Buddy, but his eyes looked distant. “Haven’t been feeling like brewing much of anything new since…” He trailed off, glanced at his bottle, and noticed it was empty. “Damn,” he said faintly. “Excuse me.”

Kiko decided to go for his tote of supplies while Buddy wandered off to find himself a replacement beer.