by L.H. Cosway
The show that evening went over a storm, and there was a buzz in the air. I went to the gazebo with Lola for something to eat, and there seemed to be a bit of a party going on. There were some local women who had obviously come to see the show and were now enjoying an after party. I felt a little grimy in comparison. I was still wearing my blue dress from earlier, and it had paint stains all over; my hands were covered in paint, too, and my hair felt messy. I hadn’t had the chance to run a brush through it since that morning.
A space had been cleared for people to dance, and music was streaming from the speakers, some kind of French rap. It was curious. I only caught the odd word here and there, but the basic gist was pretty racy. I guessed that was why Julie was dancing all by herself wearing a tiny slip of a dress. In fact, I thought it might actually be a slip. Huh. She shook her hips and threw her hands up into the air before seductively running them down her body and swaying from side to side.
“Excuse me while I go pour some bleach in my eyes,” Lola deadpanned before steering me towards a table where Luan, Pedro, and Raphael were sitting. Air got caught in my lungs when I saw how half of Pedro’s face was bruised up. Lola sat beside Luan, chatting amiably, and I went to the opposite end of the bench, as far away from Pedro as I could possibly get.
He glanced at me, brown eyes hardening, then knocked back a gulp of whatever drink was in his glass. I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t done with me yet, and my throat ran dry.
“Don’t mind me,” came a hard yet humorous voice from behind me, and I jumped, turning to see I’d almost sat on top of King. I’d been so focused on Pedro that I hadn’t noticed him skulking in the corner.
“Sorry,” I apologised, and sat down across from him. His eyes weren’t as bloodshot as usual, and you could actually make out the colour of his hair now. It was an attractive shade of dark blond. Almost the same colour as mine. Somebody must have forced him to take a wash. I wondered if it was Jack. His clothes were still pretty worn and dirty, though.
His long hair and beard obscured half his face, but I thought he had probably been a very good-looking man at one time. I couldn’t really tell what age he was. It was difficult to pin down, due to his appearance, but he could’ve been anywhere between thirty and forty years old. And his eyes, man, I still couldn’t get over them. They were so beautiful and yet so sad.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met yet,” I said, holding my hand out to him. “I’m Lille.”
His icy blues narrowed on me somewhat warily, but he didn’t shake my hand. “I know who you are, love,” he said, then looked away over my shoulder where Marina sat with Winnie and Antonio, muttering under his breath, “Stupid meddling old bitch.”
There was a harsh, cutting tone to his words that surprised me. He must have seen the wide-eyed look on my face when he went on to explain. “Not you. My sister. The bitch has everyone watching me. Can’t get a fucking drink around here to save my life. What’s the point of living in a shithole like this if you can’t have a drink every now and again, eh?”
“Everywhere’s a shithole to you, King,” came Jack’s voice as he threw his leg over the bench and sat down beside me, his breath whispering over my ear when he said, “Hey.”
I glanced at him, getting goose bumps. “Hi.”
“Yeah, well, this place really is one,” King griped, and pressed his fingers to his skull. “Shitting cock bastards, I feel like someone’s trying to drill a hole into my cranium.”
Jack laughed. “Your mouth is a real thing of beauty. And the hole drilling would be what the rest of us who actually stop drinking every now and again call a hangover.”
“I wish somebody would hang me,” King complained. “Do you know that’s where the word comes from? Hangover? Historically, when there was a hanging, there’d also be a big street party, everyone boozing it up. Then the next day, when the hanging was over, they’d all feel like a steaming pile of shit, hence the now commonly used term. Kind of fucked up when you think about it. Having a party while some poor old sod gets hung.” He paused, his sad eyes growing even sadder. “People are depraved.”
“Look at you, using your words. Seems like the alcohol drought is doing you well already,” said Jack, and King grumbled. I thought that maybe Jack was the only person in this whole place who King allowed to tease him like that.
All of a sudden, the music got louder, and we all turned to see that Julie had gotten up on a table to dance. The straps of her dress had fallen down and hung low around her arms, showing more cleavage than before, along with the top of her black lacy bra.
“Red’s putting on a show for you, McCabe,” said King, letting out a cynical laugh that then transformed into a painful-sounding cough. Sleeping outdoors must have been wreaking havoc with his body. I shot him a sympathetic look, which he didn’t appear to appreciate.
Jack waved him away. “She puts on a show for everyone. Nothing special there.”
King began coughing again, and Julie continued to dance her way across the tables, finally reaching ours. Her eyes were honed in on Jack as she swayed, then came to a stop in front of him. She licked her lips and ran her hand over her collarbone, then down her chest. I felt myself grow incredibly uncomfortable and a little bit upset. She was pulling out all the stops to get Jack’s attention, and it must have been working, because he was staring back at her. I couldn’t read his expression, but still, the fact that he was looking at her made me feel about two inches tall.
Invisible, really.
“Licence my roving hands, and let them go,” King began loudly over the music, “before, behind, between, above, below.” The way he spoke made me think he was quoting from somewhere, but I didn’t recognise the lines. Julie turned to him and scowled. He was ruining her performance.
“Before, behind, between, above, below,” he repeated. “But if you let them all go, what is there left for anyone? What is there left for you?”
He was talking in riddles, but Julie still seemed annoyed. She kicked her leg out in a calculated move that hit King right in the shoulder. He went flying backwards and almost fell off the bench.
“That’s right,” he coughed, “hit a man when he’s down.”
Julie narrowed her eyes and leaned over to him. I was the only one close enough to hear her whisper-hiss, “You’re no man. I bet your cock is necrotic by now.”
When she turned around she was smiling again and I sat there in shock. She definitely didn’t know that I’d heard her. What a cruel, cruel thing to say. King might not have been the most pleasant person in the world, but it was obvious that he was the way he was because he was suffering.
I looked at him and saw genuine hurt on his face. Without thinking, I reached across the table and took his hand into mine. I don’t know why I did it. I guess I was just driven to comfort people when they were in pain.
“Don’t listen to her,” I told him, and at the same time he swiped his hand from my grasp.
“I don’t need your sympathy, girl,” he said, then got up from the bench and walked directly to a table of men who were drinking cans of beer. There was a half-full bottle of whiskey sitting right there in the open, and I was the only one who saw King swipe it, tuck it inside his coat, and walk right out of the gazebo.
Julie was still dancing in front of Jack. She sashayed down to her haunches, then climbed onto his lap. His hands went to her hips to steady her as she gyrated for him. Ugh, I really couldn’t take much more. Standing, I took a leaf out of King’s book and left. The campsite was dark, lit only by the lights that shone from inside the camper vans.
A chill ran down my spine, because the silence out here seemed punctuated by the loud music in the gazebo beyond. My throat felt tight and my eyes watered, emotion clutching at my chest. The past few days with Jack and me growing closer had really done a number on me. I’d gotten my hopes up. But what was the point in hoping when there were always going to be women like Julie throwing themselves at him?
I felt lost.
>
When I finally reached the camper, I sat on the grass outside, burying my face in my hands. Nobody could see me out here, so I let all of my pent-up emotions flow free. In other words, I cried. I was feeling so strange, an odd mixture of homesickness and lovesickness. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to have feelings for Jack, and yet I found myself drowning in both of those things. I longed for the comfort of my own bed, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near my mother. I yearned for Jack’s strong arms to surround me, but I didn’t want to deal with the way he made my lungs feel like there wasn’t enough air to breathe.
Footsteps crunched on the grass, and I looked up to see a tall figure approaching. When he came into view, I saw it was Jack, and he seemed agitated. He’d clearly come looking for me. Just as he was about to knock on the door to the camper, he heard me sniffle. Turning his head, he saw me sitting on the grass. Our eyes met, held.
“Lille, fuck,” he swore, and came towards me. Reaching down, he grabbed me by the elbows and pulled me up to stand. It was a little rough, but I didn’t think he realised that. He pushed me back against the camper and stared at my tear-streaked face, his brows drawn together in either concern or annoyance. I couldn’t tell which. Bringing his thumbs up to my cheeks, he wiped away the tears. For a brief moment, he seemed fascinated by them. His chest met mine, and I felt his breathing accelerate.
“Why did you disappear?” he asked, eyes flickering back and forth across my face.
I shrugged and tried to calm my breathing. “Does it matter? I already felt invisible.”
His brows drew together. “What? Because of Julie? You left before seeing me lift her off my lap. I wasn’t enjoying it, if that’s what you thought.”
“I don’t get you at all. How could you not be enjoying it? You had sex with her the other night. I can’t see how so much has changed in so little time.”
“Everything and nothing has changed,” said Jack, levelling his hands on either side of my face. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“Not anymore. You were a minute ago. Tell me why.”
My entire body slumped back against the camper, my energy draining like sand through an egg timer. “I’m just overwhelmed. This life is a lot different to what I’m used to.” I was evading answering honestly, but I really was far too embarrassed to admit my feelings for him. I barely knew him, and already he was all I could see when I shut my eyes at night.
“I warned you it wasn’t going to be fun,” said Jack. “It’s dangerous out here for women on their own.”
“Don’t start that again. It pissed me off enough the first time you said it. I might be a woman and I also might technically be alone, but I’m surviving just fine.”
His mouth moved in a way that made me think he was amused. “Yeah, you’re surviving just fine, thanks to me. Or was it you who put that pretty bruise on Pedro’s face?”
“Oh, whatever,” I sighed, and looked away. I knew he had me there. Plus, I couldn’t handle his handsomeness up so close.
“Whatever,” Jack mimicked before his voice dipped low. “You sound so petulant when you say that. Why are you being petulant, Lille? Sexual frustration?”
I snorted. “You wish.”
He cocked his head. “Yeah, I do. And I think you’re lying.” He brought his mouth to my neck and kissed me tenderly, then again and again, his kisses whisper-soft but growing harder each time. Breath escaped me, and I sighed in reluctant pleasure. There was no way I could resist him. The feel of his mouth sent wonderful tingles all the way down my spine. He rose back up and gripped my neck in his hand.
“Your pulse is racing. I can feel it fluttering against my palm, so fragile, like butterfly wings,” he rasped, then brought his mouth over mine. His tongue slid languidly past my lips, licking at me, taking everything without asking permission. I fisted his shirt, unsure whether I was pulling him closer or endeavouring to push him away.
Losing myself in sensation, I melted right there next to the camper, standing on the dampening grass. Night sounds drifted about us, and I became aware of his lips leaving mine, trailing across my collarbone and then falling away completely as he bent to kneel on the ground. I looked down and he stared up, hands rubbing the outsides of my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress higher and higher until my underwear was showing.
Like before, he pressed his face to me and breathed in. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything more erotic. The look in his eyes as he stared at me was worshipful, and it felt like my heart had gotten stuck in my throat. Then he put his hand to the back of my knee and lifted my leg, throwing it over his shoulder. I held on to his other shoulder for balance just as he began lowering my underwear. Cool air hit my most intimate parts, and I hissed in a breath.
Now he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He eyes were focused intently between my legs as he ran a single finger down my slit. I gasped and waited, needing more.
“Touch me,” I pleaded.
“Touch you or kiss you?”
“Both. Please,” I said, and then his mouth was on me, soft and wet at first before his tongue licked at my clit and I trembled. His hand ventured further, fingers finding me and plunging inside. I shivered at the invasion, feeling myself clamp tight around him. I felt stripped bare, seen entirely, as his hand dug into my hip, his fingers fucking me and his mouth laying siege to my most sensitive parts.
My orgasm hit me quick and fast, and Jack growled in appreciation as I braced his shoulders for support. His lips and tongue and fingers drew out every last wave until I was entirely spent. He fixed my underwear back in place, pulled down my dress, and took my mouth again in a hungry kiss filled with a thousand unspoken words. I could taste myself on him, which was oddly intoxicating.
Then, on a physical level at least, I felt him withdraw. Just before he left, he kissed the shell of my ear and murmured, “You have never been invisible to me, flower. You’re all I see.”
As he walked away, I tilted my head up to look at the sky, and the stars seemed to shimmer like polished silver.
***
Even though he left me there all alone, I was still on a high the next day. Jack had gone down on me, outside. The whole time it was happening I felt electric, alive. I noticed that I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten some action, because Lola’s bed remained empty the whole night. She arrived back the next morning, still wearing the same clothes and a satisfied look on her face.
I didn’t ask questions, but I knew it must’ve been Luan who put the satisfied look there. I hadn’t really spoken to him much, but he seemed like a nice guy. Still, the fact that he was good friends with Pedro put me off slightly. I just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be a sleaze, because Lola didn’t deserve that.
Violet was in the lounge, and I was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal, when she came in.
“Well, well, well, where have you been, Josephine?” Violet asked in an uncharacteristically chipper voice.
Lola scowled and went to our room, shouting over her shoulder, “Don’t call me that.”
Violet snickered and returned her attention to her magazine.
“Josephine?” I asked.
She arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t actually think that Lola was her real name, did you?”
I shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Yeah, well,” she replied pointedly. “It isn’t. Circuses like this attract lots of girls looking to run away, escape their realities, you know. Giving yourself a new name is all a part of it, I guess.”
“In that case, I think I’ll rename myself Methuselah,” I joked. “It sounds all mysterious and exotic, right?”
Violet raised an eyebrow at me. “If you say so.”
Deciding to get out for a while and get my mind off Jack, I went for a walk around the campsite, stopping when I saw Winnie. She had Pip and Skip out of their cage, and my heart stuttered for a moment. When I watched them from the safety of the audience or from behind the
bars of their cage, I felt safe. But here, out in the open, I became aware of their size and the danger they presented. Winnie held nothing but a long wooden stick as she walked alongside Pip, alternating between petting his mane and giving him little taps on the side. Skip sat on the grass, head resting on his paws, absently surveying the scene.
When Winnie saw me standing there, she smiled. “You want to come meet my boys?” she asked, and I hesitated before venturing closer. Pip watched me, assessing the new person, his eyes almost human. His thick, golden mane shone in the sunlight, and I yearned to reach out and touch it.
“They’re so beautiful,” I said in wonder. “I hope what happened with Julie won’t get them taken away from you.”
Winnie nodded and petted Pip’s head again. “She’s not making any official complaints. Julie is the little girl who pulled the legs from spiders, the one who poked at dogs until they turned vicious. I’m not saying my animals would never hurt someone, because at their core they are predators, but Julie was provoking them. My Carrie witnessed the whole thing. Julie had been sticking a pole inside their cage, trying to get a reaction.” She paused and laughed wryly. “I heard her wail, and came out to find Skip had broken the pole and was clawing at her through the bars. You don’t mess with him.”
“I can’t understand why she’d do something like that,” I said, and sat down to admire Pip. He seemed to have determined I wasn’t a threat, because he wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. “I mean, how is that fun?”
“Some people have warped ideas of fun,” said Winnie, her voice growing hard. “Pip and Skip are brothers. We’ve had them both for a long time, since they were just teenagers. Not in all that time have they harmed a person, and Antonio and I pride ourselves on that fact. If I catch that girl going near my animals again, it will not be the lions she should be afraid of.”
I absorbed her words, suddenly understanding that although Winnie looked like a completely harmless woman to the casual bystander, there was a warrior lying underneath who would stop at nothing to protect the ones she loved.