Americana Fairy Tale

Readers love the
C
HECKMATE

series by
L
EX
C
HASE

Pawn Takes Rook

“This is a wonderful light-hearted story with a way of making the characters come to life.”

—MM Good Book Reviews

Cashing the Reality Check

“Lex Chase created an incredible world with these guys and takes it one step farther when they have to leave this reality to go to another one in order to save both.”

—Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books

“I absolutely love this book… It’s not a graphic novel, but seriously, this author writes in a way that makes it easy for a reader to picture the settings, the characters, and the story itself.”

—Joyfully Jay

“This is a very well written story with a strong plot and great emotional development… I was happily along for the ride every step of the way and was sad when it ended.”

—Gay List Book Reviews

Conventional Love

“This was the last installment of the Checkmate series. While it’s sad to see it go I was happy with how it was all tied up.”

—Live Your Life, Buy the Book

“With a glistening five stars, I strongly recommend you cancel your appointments, draw the curtains and join Ms. Chase on a journey into the fantastic, in a tale that is anything but conventional.”

—The Novel Approach

By
L
EX
C
HASE

Americana Fairy Tale

Chasing Sunrise

C
HECKMATE

Pawn Takes Rook

Cashing the Reality Check

Conventional Love

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Americana Fairy Tale

© 2014 Lex Chase.

Cover Art

© 2014 Paul Richmond.

http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63216-206-9

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-207-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014944165

First Edition September 2014

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

“Is this a kissing book?”

The Princess Bride

O
NCE
U
PON—
C
RAP
!

Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York.

May 5

“A
ND
ON
this ever so lovely day commemorating Princess Taylor’s birth, the Storyteller That Be twenty-five years ago looked upon the male baby and said, ‘Well, shit, not again,’” Ringo said, standing on the seat of his doll-sized chair. Ringo was a proper eight inches high, a respectable height for pixies, but his shimmering pink butterfly wings made him a giant among his brethren. He smiled upon his chosen princess, whom he had been sworn to protect and guide since the day the boy was brought into the world. That boy, that princess, was none other than Taylor Andrew Hatfield. Taylor watched him in an apparently slightly buzzed state and slumped over the rickety card table.

Taylor arched a brow and smirked. He then raised his fourth red Solo cup of hard lemonade. “Happy freaking birthday to me,” he said and clinked cups with Ringo’s Barbie teacup filled with his own droplet of liquor.

Ringo downed the contents of his cup, his wings drooping with drunkenness. “Don’t tell your mother I let you drink in college.”

Taylor chuckled, then chugged the hard lemonade. He wiped his mouth on his tattered hoodie sleeve. “Have I ever told my mother half the shit you let me get away with?”

“Atta boy,” Ringo said, relaxing into his seat on the card table. “It’s not so bad,” he muttered. “It has a certain ambiance.” He pointed to three different piles of dirty clothes on the floor and then the unmade bed, but his gaze finally settled on his own home, the Barbie Dreamhouse in the corner surrounded by Red Bull cans. “When are you going to get your crap off my lawn, boyo?”

Taylor scrubbed at his face and ran his fingers though his disheveled, long, dark hair. “Your lawn is a shelf. I need to use every space possible.”

Ringo laughed. “If you say so.”

Taylor jumped when his smartphone vibrated and slithered across the table. He glanced at the screen. “Ooh…,” he said, blinking owlishly. “Billy just texted… something very….” He tapped the screen, flipping the phone horizontal. “Well, goddamn.”

Ringo flopped out of his chair and toddled across the table. “Let me see, let me see.” Ringo snapped his miniscule fingers. “As your fairy godfather, I must approve of this union.”

Taylor held the phone for his pixie guardian, and Ringo’s hand slapped over his mouth.

“
Sweet Mother McCree
,” Ringo gasped. “He’s Bunyan’s boy, isn’t he?” Taylor tilted his head for a better view of Billy’s considerable assets. He held his hands in a wide arc. “Holy shit. Both hands, son.”

“That’s a Bunyan for you,” Taylor said, returning to his drink. “My mother would faint at the idea of me dating a lumberjack. Well, not really dating….” Taylor fell silent, pressing his lips together. “You know….”

Ringo thumbed his chin and watched Taylor grow solemn. “Hey, hey, it’s not that bad, okay? There’s a ton of ways around for princesses to get their rocks off.”

Taylor narrowed his eyes over his Solo cup. “Know of any?” His voice echoed into the cup.

Tapping his fingers together, Ringo averted his eyes. “Well, no,” he said and then tried to turn a negative into a positive. “Consider it a life experience. Learning what you like once the time comes for true love’s kiss. And all that it implies.”

“Are we seriously having
this
discussion? Right now?” Taylor said, lowering his cup to the wobbly card table.

Ringo waved his hands in surrender as he paced around the table. He walked in a figure eight around the pile of Twinkies and then the value-size bag of Ruffles. “I’m just saying, one day it’s gonna happen,” Ringo said, his feet crunching over potato chip crumbs. “And you’re not going to expect it. Your prince may take a shape you’ve never dreamed before.” He pointed a finger. “I
know
about those David Beckham clippings you keep in the drawer with all your pens and charging cords.”

“So….” Taylor tilted back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs. He watched the leafy boughs of the trees outside the window trembling in the windy night. “You’re talking like once-upon-a-dream shit.”

Ringo shrugged. “Eh, I don’t think it has anything to do with dreams. Or none of that someday my prince will come. That’s what all the Enchants would like you to think. I’m just saying the Storyteller had a plan for you.”

Taylor sputtered and then broke out into cackles as his chair slammed back onto the concrete floor. “A
plan
?” he barked through his laughter. “Tell me, Oh Wise One, did the Storyteller have a plan for
you
?”

Ringo took flight and cupped Taylor’s cheeks with his small hands. He smiled, content with his lovely princess. “I got you, didn’t I?”

Taylor smiled crookedly, his pink eyes glassed over with the start of tears. “Y-yeah,” he muttered.

Ringo swatted at Taylor’s nose. “Now, now. Stop with the gushy moment. Dry it up, boyo.”

“Hell,” Taylor said, wiping his eyes with his hoodie sleeve. “At least you’re not stuck with Atticus. Can you imagine that?”

Ringo’s lips pulled into a small
o
, and he carefully held out his hands. “Now… Taylor. You need to stop right there.”

With an expression of pure exasperation, Taylor stood from the rickety card table and paced across his tiny dorm room. He avoided the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and swayed around the desk stacked with empty Red Bull cans. “Oh, Taylor,” he said, mocking the arrogance of his father. “Why can’t you do something worthwhile like your little brother, Atticus? He’s excelling in the ROTC. Why can’t you serve your country like Atticus? Why can’t you be an
A
student like Atticus? Why can’t you be practically perfect in every way like our dear, darling, sweet baby boy Atticus?” Taylor clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He grunted in an imitation of his father. “You can never
hope
to be anything like Atticus.”