June, Reimagined (40)
“You’ve barely left Knockmoral since you got here.”
“I can’t help it if I have to work.”
“Oh, bullocks,” Eva said. “You know Hamish would give you as many days off as you want, but you don’t ask. Because you’re hiding, June Merriweather. It’s high time you throw in a plot twist or two.”
“My life isn’t one of your novels, you know.”
“No, because if all my character did was work and run, I’d have a fucking boring book on my hands.”
“I’m not boring.”
“No, you are not boring. In fact, I suspect there is a very interesting person hiding out in that body of yours, if you would just let down your guard and reveal her.” Eva took one of June’s hands. “Avoidance builds tension, but at some point, to satisfy the reader, a character must make a choice and deal with the consequences.” Eva took the whisky back from June and sipped.
“A choice about what?” June asked.
Eva glanced over June’s shoulder toward the door. “Him.”
The Jarl squad funneled through the door, still in their Viking costumes. Most people were slowly sagging, getting sloppier throughout the night, but Lennox had managed to get even hotter. The crowd cheered for the squad as June grabbed Eva’s drink and shot back the remainder in one gulp.
“He’s not a plot twist most women can say no to,” Eva whispered in June’s ear.
Even if June had tried, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to pull her eyes from Lennox. It was as if she had been adrift all night but was now suddenly anchored and awake. The crowd took their seats, ready for the main act. June stayed in the back as the men set up for their performance.
With fifty men in the squad and a hundred more people still in the hall, the heat began to rise. June’s cheeks flushed hot. She felt every single body in the room, and yet it felt nowhere near as suffocating as her life had been in Sunningdale. She exhaled deeply.
“Lads and lasses,” the Guizer Jarl began, “we have a sad tale to tell on this most important night. A cautionary tale. Of heartbreak. Of longing unrequited. Pay attention and heed our warning, so that you may not make the same mistake.”
June’s lip found its way between her teeth as she watched Lennox produce his guitar and take a seat next to the Jarl, who stood at the front of the squad. Another player sat beside Lennox, violin in hand. The squad’s faces were stoic behind their leader, Hamish included. There had yet to be a somber act, and a silence fell on the hall that June had not experienced all night.
Lennox and the violinist began to play a haunting tune. Lennox was protective around the guitar, focused and serious. June felt as though she was observing a private moment, Lennox lost in himself. She couldn’t tear her eyes from him. The sight of Lennox playing guitar was . . . erotic. The way his body moved to the beat. The way he closed his eyes and bit his lip, as if obsessed with the music, hypnotized by it, aching for it. If this simple song could possess Lennox, June wondered, what could a human being do? And what could Lennox do with another human being?
Lost in her infatuation, June almost missed the instant the crowd shifted. The melancholy tune suddenly became recognizable. June sat at attention. The crowd began to look at each other. How did June know this song?
And just as the Jarl sang the lyric and June suddenly realized what was coming, she caught Lennox’s eye. And he winked.
Hamish stepped forward, ripped off his helmet to reveal Amelia’s long blond wig, and shouted, “Hit me baby one more time!”
Capes and helmets came off. The squad tore free of their Viking costumes to reveal kilts underneath. The crowd was on its feet as the speakers began to blare Britney Spears’s iconic pop hit.
In a matter of seconds, fifty Vikings had transformed into kilt-clad Britney Spears look-alikes. If that wasn’t shocking enough, the entire squad began doing the exact choreography for the song, which June knew from hours of MTV.
Lennox fumbled along to the beat, attempting to keep up. He looked ridiculous, like a giant on a trapeze, and utterly gorgeous. More importantly, he looked as if he was having fun. June had never seen anything more comical and magical in her life.
The room became a raucous carnival, with squad and townspeople all on their feet, dancing and singing. When Britney Spears hit her last note, the crowd exploded in boisterous cheers. The squad took a collective bow as people applauded and begged for more.
June pushed through the crowd, trying to get to Lennox as fast as she could, but the room was crammed with bodies and stuffy with heat. He smiled at her the way he had during the song; God, she actually quivered. But right before she could get to Lennox, a large Viking stepped in front of her, now back in his regal costume, his long salt-and-pepper beard dangling.
The Jarl held two glasses of whisky in his hands. “It’s tradition that I dance with a lass and have a wee dram at every hall. Would you care to join me?” He held a glass out to June.
Just over the Jarl’s shoulder, Lennox was in conversation with an older woman. He glanced at June with a taunting grin. She took the whisky from the Jarl and choked it down in one gulp. With a laugh, the Jarl did the same. And for the next few minutes, June was flung around the dance floor, held tightly by the Jarl. The moment seemed completely hysterical to her. The whole day had been something of a bizarre dream, but she didn’t want it to end.