Read Online The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Addison Allen
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gloved hand, Josey touched her cheek selfconsciously. "I don't usually wear makeup."
"You should. The hair, the makeup. It looks like you."
Josey hesitated, then pushed her curly hair behind her ears, feeling better. "So, what do we do?" she asked.
"Want to get a beer?"
"A beer." Josey smiled slightly. "Okay."
"Why are you smiling?" Chloe asked.
"I know someone who is going to love when I tell her this."
Once they got their cups, Chloe said, "Want to get something to eat?"
Josey didn't answer, because that wasn't something she normally admitted in public, but Chloe was already heading to the food booths, so she followed. The area was encompassed in a bubble of warm, fragrant steam from the funnel cake deep-fryers. It smelled like sweet vanilla cake batter you licked off a spoon.
She never went to the food booths when she was young. She would sit at the judges' table with her father during the bald-head contest, then the chauffeur would take her home. Margaret always met her at the door with questions. Did he introduce her to anyone? Did everyone see them together? She was obsessed with Marco showing pride in his only child, even though it was something Margaret herself could not do.
Chloe and Josey ate caramel apples and pecan sandies made by tiny old women from madly competitive church groups. Slowly, she began to relax. No one was watching. She was eating in public and it didn't feel bad. It felt good, in fact. Wonderful. Maybe it was the food itself. Maybe it was the normalcy of it all.
As she became more bold in looking around, she saw some people she recognized, but no one seemed to recognize her. Chloe was the exact opposite. People constantly stopped her to talk. There was Brittany, a girl she'd gone to high school with. June, whom she used to babysit. And then a woman named Flippa invited them both to a Tupperware party. Being here felt strangely empowering, like she now had a secret identity, a super power. She could go out looking like this, and no one knew her as Josey Cirrini. She was now just Josey, Chloe's friend. She could eat and no one would say anything about it, look at her like it was wrong.
She bought a plume of blue cotton candy before they left the food booths, and she picked at it while they headed down the row of booths occupied by residents of Bald Slope who had spent all summer making walnut salad bowls and jars of pickled watermelon rind to sell at the festival. Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people's legs like house cats. It was magical, this snowglobe world.
They were at the end of the craft booths, ready to turn toward the stage because Chloe wanted to listen to the band, when they suddenly turned at the sound of someone calling Chloe's name.
Jake Yardley was standing under the colorful lights strung above the walkway formed by the booths. People were walking around him, giving him curious glances. He was a mesmerizing man, intense and smart, with those strange green eyes all Yardley men had. People used to say that Yardley eyes could see right through you. The Cirrinis knew the Yardleys socially, both families having money and large real estate holdings in town. But Jake was a few years older than Josey, and he'd gone to boarding schools and Josey had been home-schooled by a long string of tutors, so they'd rarely crossed paths as children. When they had, at the odd social function or holiday party, Josey had been absolutely fascinated by him, by his eyes, by how polite he was, how quick he was to obey his parents. She'd never seen anything like it. She'd never socialized much with kids her own age, so she'd thought it was perfectly acceptable to pinch him to get his attention, to make him look at her. When he was younger, he would cry. As he got older he began to look at her with such sincere pity that it made her run away.
"Clo, please," he called, his voice desperate, a little slurred.
"Crap. I didn't think he'd be here. And I think he's been drinking,"
"You should. The hair, the makeup. It looks like you."
Josey hesitated, then pushed her curly hair behind her ears, feeling better. "So, what do we do?" she asked.
"Want to get a beer?"
"A beer." Josey smiled slightly. "Okay."
"Why are you smiling?" Chloe asked.
"I know someone who is going to love when I tell her this."
Once they got their cups, Chloe said, "Want to get something to eat?"
Josey didn't answer, because that wasn't something she normally admitted in public, but Chloe was already heading to the food booths, so she followed. The area was encompassed in a bubble of warm, fragrant steam from the funnel cake deep-fryers. It smelled like sweet vanilla cake batter you licked off a spoon.
She never went to the food booths when she was young. She would sit at the judges' table with her father during the bald-head contest, then the chauffeur would take her home. Margaret always met her at the door with questions. Did he introduce her to anyone? Did everyone see them together? She was obsessed with Marco showing pride in his only child, even though it was something Margaret herself could not do.
Chloe and Josey ate caramel apples and pecan sandies made by tiny old women from madly competitive church groups. Slowly, she began to relax. No one was watching. She was eating in public and it didn't feel bad. It felt good, in fact. Wonderful. Maybe it was the food itself. Maybe it was the normalcy of it all.
As she became more bold in looking around, she saw some people she recognized, but no one seemed to recognize her. Chloe was the exact opposite. People constantly stopped her to talk. There was Brittany, a girl she'd gone to high school with. June, whom she used to babysit. And then a woman named Flippa invited them both to a Tupperware party. Being here felt strangely empowering, like she now had a secret identity, a super power. She could go out looking like this, and no one knew her as Josey Cirrini. She was now just Josey, Chloe's friend. She could eat and no one would say anything about it, look at her like it was wrong.
She bought a plume of blue cotton candy before they left the food booths, and she picked at it while they headed down the row of booths occupied by residents of Bald Slope who had spent all summer making walnut salad bowls and jars of pickled watermelon rind to sell at the festival. Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people's legs like house cats. It was magical, this snowglobe world.
They were at the end of the craft booths, ready to turn toward the stage because Chloe wanted to listen to the band, when they suddenly turned at the sound of someone calling Chloe's name.
Jake Yardley was standing under the colorful lights strung above the walkway formed by the booths. People were walking around him, giving him curious glances. He was a mesmerizing man, intense and smart, with those strange green eyes all Yardley men had. People used to say that Yardley eyes could see right through you. The Cirrinis knew the Yardleys socially, both families having money and large real estate holdings in town. But Jake was a few years older than Josey, and he'd gone to boarding schools and Josey had been home-schooled by a long string of tutors, so they'd rarely crossed paths as children. When they had, at the odd social function or holiday party, Josey had been absolutely fascinated by him, by his eyes, by how polite he was, how quick he was to obey his parents. She'd never seen anything like it. She'd never socialized much with kids her own age, so she'd thought it was perfectly acceptable to pinch him to get his attention, to make him look at her. When he was younger, he would cry. As he got older he began to look at her with such sincere pity that it made her run away.
"Clo, please," he called, his voice desperate, a little slurred.
"Crap. I didn't think he'd be here. And I think he's been drinking,"
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