Part 1: Welcome to Swing
McSwingerville rose at dawn like a pastel daydream. On Main Street’s broad sidewalks, wrought-iron benches faced planters brimming with life; the lampposts wore strands of fairy lights, even though the sun had barely yawned. The sounds of water dripping from hanging planters filled the sidewalks, and the colors of the rainbow shone brightly all around. It was the kind of town that bottled its charm and sold it by the jar.
At precisely 10 a.m., the nervous hum of clip-clopping heels and polished loafers stilled as the crowd gathered outside the newly refurbished Civic Center. A large ribbon, flanked by two oversized pink scissors, stretched across the double doors. The sign above read, in gleaming gold letters, WELCOME TO THE NEW CIVIC, BUT MAKE IT FABULOUS.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed citizens of the greatest little town on Earth,” boomed Mayor Gloria “Glo” Van der Bell from the steps. Her voice crackled through the microphone like champagne fizz, bright, bubbly, and a little dangerous. Dressed in a tailored lilac suit with structured shoulders that whispered “power move,” she surveyed her audience with a grin that threatened to split her face.
Glo raised a perfectly manicured hand. “Today, we unfurl a new chapter in McSwingerville’s history. A space where our community’s finest ideas will germinate, collaborate, and dazzle the world!” She gestured grandly. The ribbon snapped free, and a gaggle of local council members, handpicked for their impeccable social calendars, tore it apart like eager children at a birthday party. Confetti cannons boomed and pastel paper petals rained down.
From the cheering throng, three figures stood at perfect attention. Serena Marino, owner of Serendipity Café, clasped her apron in both hands. She was petite, with curly chocolate hair tucked behind one ear; her cheeks glowed rosier than her strawberry-rhubarb tart. Next to her, Dante Fiore, proprietor of Petal & Stem Floristry, adjusted his cufflinks, which were a pale lavender silk that matched one of his roses. He wore his raven-black hair slicked back, dark eyes searching the crowd for familiar faces. Beside him loitered Carl “Clip” Clipperson, barber-cum-matchmaker extraordinaire, leaning on his favored barber’s polestriped cane. He winked at anyone who met his gaze.
But all eyes, every single one, turned at an abrupt, sassy trill of laughter that sliced through the civic fanfare. In sashayed Jasper Bloom: eighty-four sequined steps, four-inch stilettos, and a feathered boa the color of a vicious sunset. Hands on hips, Jasper tilted a crowned head of platinum waves toward the mayor. Under his perfectly arched brows, eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Dahlings, a standing ovation for our mayoral marvel!” he purred into Glo’s microphone, then pirouetted onto the platform. The crowd gasped as he produced a folded script, bound in rose-gold leather. “I stand before you today as McSwingerville’s freshly minted Theater Director, formerly a comedian, now a dramatist supreme. And let me tell you, your civic center’s center stage is about to get… theatrical.”
Mayor Glo beamed as if crowned anew. “Jasper, darling, your timing is impeccable. The auditorium seats forty, but I expect we’ll need to add balconies once your productions start selling out.” She leaned in, voice silk over steel: “And I heard you’ve been… evaluating more than just stage plays.” A hush fell.
Jasper’s laugh tinkled like cocktail glass chimes. “Mayor, sweetie, I prefer my rehearsals discreet, but McSwingerville is notorious for its… spirited community involvement.” He glanced at Dante, whose cheeks flamed as red as his tulips. Jasper swept an elegant eyebrow heavenward. “Speaking of which…Dante! Darling, I trust your roses are as scandalously fragrant as ever?” Dante swallowed; Serena tilted her head, curious.
Before Dante could answer, Glo clapped her hands. “All right, lovelies… there’s a champagne reception at the back atrium, courtesy of Serendipity Café. But first, a group photo!” Her camera phone rose in unison with eager council members, capturing smiles that teetered between genuine and forced.
—
Inside the atrium, a fountain trickled pink water into a mosaic of mirrored tiles. Servers in powder-blue waistcoats offered sparkling rosé garnished with edible gold flakes. Jasper drifted through the clusters of town dignitaries, delivering tiny quips: “Oh, Minister of Commerce, that tie is to die for, did you borrow it from the wallpaper?” “Ah, Councilwoman Pearce, still riding the fudge-truck revenue wave, I see?” Each barb landed like a feathered dart, light but undeniably pointed.
Serena poured glasses for herself, Dante, and Carl. “Glo’s taking this civic center thing very personally,” she murmured, handing them each a fluted crystal. “Did you see how she clutched that ribbon?”
Carl sipped. “She’s got big plans… maybe too big.” His cane tapped the tile. “You sense any…ah… side projects?”
At that exact moment, Glo appeared behind them, arms linked with Jasper’s. She’d swapped her lilac suit for a shimmering rose-gold sheath that hugged every curve. “Darling, try the canapés,” she cooed. She plucked a bite-sized crostini from a passing tray and popped it into Jasper’s mouth, then Dante’s, then Serena’s, so intentionally personal that Serena nearly dropped her glass.
Carl’s eyes flicked to the mayor’s hand, resting on Dante’s upper arm. “Heavens,” he whispered to Serena, “she’s marking her territory.”
Jasper’s heel clicked near them. “Oh, love, these canapés are passé.” He snapped fingers, and a server appeared with a lacquered tray of black-topped caviar blinis. “May we indulge in something more… decadent?” He winked at Serena. “Your café’s treats are divine, dear, but I imagine the theater’s backstage coma snacks demand a touch more sophistication.”
Serena managed a polite laugh while Dante murmured, “I’ll take two of those, please.” He spoke so quietly that only Jasper could have heard, but Jasper cocked his head and purred, “Anything for you, sweetheart.” Then he flounced off, trailing a whisper of perfume the color of midnight.
Left in his wake, Serena pressed her lips together. “Is it just me, or is our little town a shade… tighter than usual?”
Carl leaned in. “Oh, it’s tight all right, woven together tighter than my barber’s twine. Business, politics… and something else. And when government and commerce mix like that, honey…” He made a little swirl in the air. “Let’s just say, it’s a swinger’s paradise.”
Dante’s jaw clenched. “Don’t say that out loud.” His gaze locked on the far end of the room, where Glo and Jasper, arm-in-arm, paused by the monumental staircase. Glo whispered something; Jasper threw back his head and laughed, then tapped her nose slyly. “Your secret’s probably safe with me,” he mouthed.
The three friends let the moment hang like a dropped curtain. Serena glanced at her watch. “We should get back to the Café. The gala’s wonderful, but I have tarts to bake.” She lifted her chin, resolve simmering. “Besides, I’d like to regroup and figure out what’s really happening behind those satin drapes.”
Carl nodded, retrieving his cane. “Agreed. But mark my words: when you mix democracy with dollar signs and a dash of glitter, you get a powder keg that can blow at the slightest spark.”
They slipped through the side door, past a pair of uniformed ushers who looked far too cozy leaning together, to the marble-floored hallway. A hush fell behind them, broken only by Jasper’s distant prologue echoing off the walls: “McSwingerville, loves, take your seats, the real show is just beginning!”
Serena let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Dante shot a dark look back the way they’d come, then turned it on Serena. “We need to keep our eyes open, and maybe our curtains drawn.”
Carl clicked his cane toward the exit. “And our friends close.”
As they slipped into the bright morning glare, Main Street loomed before them. Both spotless and serene… yet tinged with electric anticipation. Under that coral-pink sky, McSwingerville felt like a town on the brink of reinvention. Or ruin.
Either way, the final bow was nowhere in sight.