by Steph Post
“Hey, da Vinci! You going to stand there all day with your hat in your hand or you going to get to work?”
Startled, Hayden turned around, barely dodging the long tent pole that Franklin, the Lot Man, was carrying on his shoulder. Franklin scowled at him and jutted his chin out toward the snake wagon.
“I don’t think she wants to talk to you. If she did, I think she’d be over here by now. Just ’cause I brought you back on after disappearing for two seasons don’t mean everyone else is going to be happy to see you. So quit lollygagging and start loading the tubs for the Whip. I got two new rousties on it already and they don’t know their ass from their elbow.”
Hayden nodded and squashed his hat back over his unruly, ash-brown hair. He had thought about stopping in town for a shower and a shave, but news of the geek’s suicide had quickly spread across Sulphur and Hayden knew the Star Light would be on the move as soon as it could. He’d been afraid that if he didn’t get there in time, he would never have the courage to follow the show to its next stop. So his vest and trousers were still covered with road dust and his moustache was as unkempt as his hair, but he supposed it didn’t matter. It looked like he was going to be lifting ride tubs and packing tent canvas, not standing awkwardly in front of Ruby, trying to figure out what to say to her. Which was just as well. He’d had so much time to think, but now that he was back at the Star Light, he had no idea how to approach her. Hayden heard Franklin yelling at him again and he quickly turned on his heel toward the Whip where, indeed, the two rousties were trying to load the tubs upside down. They’d never fit that way. Hayden rolled up his sleeves and sighed. At least it felt good to be back.
“So, mister, um…”
Daniel sat down in the camp chair offered to him by Pontilliar and crossed one slim leg over the other.
“Revont. Daniel Revont.”
Pontilliar slowly walked around the mammoth teak desk and sat across from Daniel. He spread his hands across a mound of yellowing papers and receipts and leaned back in his chair.
“Mr. Revont. Now, what is it you have that I need so badly? Because I mean it, this is not a good time right now.”
Daniel nodded as he glanced around the cramped space of the office wagon. It looked like it had once been a traditional gypsy caravan wagon, but had been gutted completely. The preposterous desk seemed to take up most of the available space. Over Pontilliar’s shoulder, Daniel could see a metal frame bed wedged into the corner and a small table with a pitcher and water basin. A faded red coat, trimmed in cheap gold ribbon, hung from a nail in the wall. He noticed that although the midway had been awash in electric light, here, only an oil lamp hung from the low ceiling. Daniel found the contrast curious. He languidly brought his gaze back to Pontilliar.
“Because you need to be out of here before the sheriff of Sulphur returns from his daughter’s wedding over in Beaumont, correct?”
Pontilliar leaned forward.
“How the hell…?”
“Because when the sheriff returns he’s going to be asking too many questions about Jacob Darnfield, the glomming geek who killed himself on Oak Barren Street last night.”
Pontilliar’s face turned from ham-pink to rare steak-red. He sputtered, sending a spray of saliva across the papers.
“Are you trying to blackmail me? You think you can come in here, expecting some sort of payout just because you know what probably half the town already knows? Did you just fall off yesterday’s turnip wagon or something?”
The corners of Daniel’s mouth turned down and he shook his head.
“No, Mr. Pontilliar, I am not trying to blackmail you. I am not trying to do anything of the sort and I find it absurd that you would jump to such a conclusion. I said that I have something for you, not that I want something from you.”
Pontilliar stood up from his chair and pulled a filthy handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped the sheen of sweat from his face, stuffed the wadded handkerchief back in his pocket and looped his thumbs under his suspenders.
“Then why don’t you tell me what it is, so you can move along and get the hell out of my office?”
Daniel remained seated.
“I have a new glomming geek for you.”
Pontilliar snapped his suspenders and stomped back and forth across the short width of the wagon.
“Jesus Christ. What kind of manager are you? You think I got time to negotiate a deal on a performer right now? How wet behind the ears are you?”
Daniel’s entire body had grown still. He didn’t even move his head, only followed Pontilliar with his black, glittering eyes.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. You are in need of a new geek and I have brought you one. Myself.”
Pontilliar stopped in his tracks and barked out a laugh.
“You? What are you, some kind of cake eater looking for kicks? You want to get blood all over that dandy suit of yours there?”
Daniel’s blank expression didn’t change.
“I am a geek. You are in need of a geek. I will leave with you today and you can pay me whatever you deem appropriate.”
Pontilliar snorted.
“Who do you think’s getting paid around here? Aside from the pennies and nickels you can scrape up off the stage floor at the end of the show, you’re not going to see much legal tender around here. Not after this fiasco, anyway.”
“That’s fine. Pay me what and when you can. I am a geek. You need a geek. What more is there to discuss?”
Pontilliar scratched the side of his jowly face and looked closely at Daniel again.
“Seriously. You mean to tell me that you’re going to stand up on a stage, in front of a gawking crowd, and bite the heads off of live chickens?”
Daniel finally stood.
“I will bite the heads off of whatever live creatures you need me to.”
He met Pontilliar’s eyes and Pontilliar slowly nodded in agreement. Daniel shook the man’s proffered, sweaty hand and smiled. It had been as easy as pie.
Ruby shaded her eyes against the noon sun and surveyed the caravan of cars and trucks lined up across the dusty lot, ready to pull out as soon as the order was given. They were leaving the vast dirt clearing pockmarked with trampled garbage and scarred with footpaths, tire tracks and large impressions in the earth where only hours before the heavy ride machinery had seemed like a permanent formation of the landscape. Now all had been bent, folded, bundled and swept into the nineteen various vehicles that would transport the Star Light to the next location. Every inch of space on wheels that could be used was packed tight with every element of the carnival, from cookhouse tables to bally banners to rousties and performers. Ruby’s own truck wagon was crammed to the arched wooden ceiling with rolls of canvas, tent poles and, of course, her four boxes of snakes. Her ever-changing riding companion for this jump was Sonja, one of the Russian trapeze artists, and the sullen, petite blonde had already climbed up into the open cab of the truck and fallen asleep. It was an eight-hour drive to Baton Rouge and Ruby was relieved she would be sharing the cramped bench seat with the acrobat. Sonja was not only tiny, but refused to speak English, even though she was fluent in the language. This removed the threat of hours of idle chit-chat, something Ruby detested. The trip was going to be a long one, but at least it would be quiet. If they ever got started in the first place.
Ruby leaned against the side of her wagon and jammed her hands into the pockets of her trousers. They were all waiting for Franklin, Samuel or Pontilliar to give the signal, but the three men were still huddled in Pontilliar’s office wagon, arguing over the logistics of the move. Ruby blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and hunched her shoulders, knowing there was nothing to do but wait. And think. And try not to look down the line of vehicles to the Model T with Hayden sitting idly behind the steering wheel.
She’d seen him earlier, standing like an idiot next to the base of the Ferris Wheel and staring dumbly at her wagon, the one he had painted himself. She had stayed o
ut of sight, fearful of how she might react when she finally confronted him, still unsure of the smoldering remnants in her chest. Ruby wanted to kill Hayden. She wanted to reach inside him and burn his own heart, so he could know. She wanted to run to him and be held. She wanted to bury her face in his shoulder, smell his sweat, feel his hands on the back of her neck and his arms against her ribs and she wanted to destroy him. She wanted to surrender to him and to bruise him. To break him.
Ruby wanted answers, but she dreaded them, too. She was afraid to get close enough to Hayden to ask, so she’d not let him see her, not yet given him the chance to speak. Ruby had watched him standing in the middle of the disassembling midway and from a distance tried to judge the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, but she had been able to discern nothing. When he’d turned around toward the rousties struggling at the Whip, he had set his hat back on his head and the familiarity of the gesture, the way he held the crown pinched between his fingers, the way his chin dipped slightly and the corners of his mouth came down, made her breath catch in her throat. It was such a quick, simple movement, one she’d seen him make a hundred times, and for a moment she expected him to cut his eyes over at her and wink. When he didn’t, the stab she felt was as confusing and painful as when Samuel had first told her that Hayden had returned to the Star Light. She didn’t know what to do; she didn’t know what to want.
So she kept herself now from looking over and finding Hayden’s car. She leaned her head back against the warm boards of the wagon side and kept her eyes on the head of the line, waiting for Pontilliar to emerge so they could get started. When he finally did, trailed by Franklin and Samuel, Pontilliar didn’t climb into the cab and signal for everyone to crank their engines. Instead, he marched down the length of wagons until he got to Ruby. His face was dark red and she knew he was furious from the way he twisted the tight gold ring back and forth on his pinky finger as he stormed toward her. She waited until she could see the fat droplets of sweat on his forehead and then she pushed herself away from the wagon and crossed her arms.
“Yes?”
Pontilliar slowed to a waddle and then closed in on her, turning his head to the side and keeping his voice low. His words came out in a biting wheeze.
“Everyone ready to go?”
“Have been for a while.”
Pontilliar’s eyes darted to hers.
“Don’t you pull that with me. We would’ve shaken out an hour ago but somebody thought it was a good idea to try to get that worthless geek’s body shipped home once it’s released. Are you kidding me?”
Ruby shrugged her shoulders and looked away from him.
“It’s important.”
Pontilliar twisted the ring on his finger and hissed at her.
“Don’t you ever go to Samuel with another dumb idea like that. You want to try to make waves? Ask me. I’ll shut you down so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
Ruby laughed.
“Since when have I ever gone to you for anything? You think I plan to start now? And I just mentioned it to Samuel. You act as if I have a say in anything.”
Pontilliar shook his head and looked over to Samuel, who was waiting outside of the management wagon. His face, as usual, was an unreadable mask. Pontilliar rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, but you get ideas into his head. And then he wants to follow through on them. Next thing you know, I’m spending another goddamn hour sweating my nuts off in that outhouse this place calls a town hall, trying to bribe yet another official with money we don’t have to do something that no one cares about in the first place.”
Ruby narrowed her eyes at him.
“They should care. You should care. Jacob was with us. He was good at his job and he was a good person. You can’t just ignore that.”
“He clocked out. Craven idiot. If he wanted to kill himself so bad, he should’ve done it off the circuit and spared us the headache. What a waste of time, this whole mess.”
Ruby’s eyes flashed.
“That’s all this is to you, isn’t it? Just a waste of time? A waste of money?”
Pontilliar had been looking over his belly into the dirt, but now he jerked his head up and nearly spat at her.
“Hell yes, it’s a waste. An inconvenience and a waste.”
Ruby crossed her arms and slowly shook her head as she ground her teeth together. Her voice came out laced with acid.
“An inconvenience? Did you really just say that?”
Pontilliar braced one arm against the side of the wagon and leaned in close, boxing Ruby in. He turned his head away from her when he spoke and his lips stretched wide in a phony smile, just in case anyone was watching them.
“Are you going to be the one to tell all those folks hoping for a sawbuck bonus that there’s nothing left now? That the whole nut was blown trying to patch this mess up? This show is on its last legs and we’re barely raking in enough to pay the next advance and keep some stew in the pot. You think about that?”
Ruby could smell the sweat oozing from his face and neck. She leaned away in disgust.
“The Star Light’s been on its last legs for the past fifteen years. I’m pretty sure this is just one more drop in your sad little bucket of show business.”
Pontilliar whipped his head around, his eyes popping. He grabbed her arm and jerked her closer.
“Now you listen to me. You may be my daughter, but that doesn’t mean I won’t—”
Ruby’s whole body was tense, but she raised her chin defiantly, staring him down.
“What? You’ll what?”
Ruby’s eyes bored into his.
“What? Tell me what you’ll do.”
Pontilliar’s mouth curled into a smirk.
“Let’s just say I’m not above throwing you out on your ass.”
Ruby twisted her arm away from him.
“Better than being here.”
“Is that so? Because where would you go? What would you do?”
Pontilliar stepped away from Ruby and looked her up and down as if appraising her. His face was still red, still slick with sweat, but his eyes were cruel.
“I mean, look at you, for God’s sake. Who would take you?”
Ruby kept her trembling down in her throat. She would never let him see that his words could touch her. She would never give him the satisfaction. Never. She tried to think of something to say, another comeback to the taunt she’d heard so many times spewed from his lips, but before she could speak, Pontilliar had turned his back on her. She could hear him puffing as he marched away and gave the signal for the drivers to move out. Ruby uncrossed her arms and shook her head, feigning disbelief. She muttered, mostly for the benefit of Sonja, in case she had been listening.
“Bastard.”
Ruby climbed up into the truck’s cab and gripped the steering wheel. Sonja was still curled into a tight knot, asleep, and so Ruby finally let her face fall. She and her father had been having the same standoff for over a decade, but his words, because they were true, still stung her. For all that she wanted to rage against him, Pontilliar was right. She had no future outside of the Star Light. There was no path leading her away from the midway, no refuge waiting for her on the other side. She certainly couldn’t survive out in the real world, where her only fate was to be either shunned or violated. And there was no point in jumping ship, either. She was tattooed, but she wasn’t a Tattooed Lady. Her markings were crude, the designs nonsensical. There was no way she could compete with women who had the Last Supper emblazoned across their chests in full color. Nor could she make it as a Snake Charmer in any other outfit; she had spent years asking around. The few sideshow managers she’d met with had given her a once-over and agreed that no, she couldn’t be a Tattooed Lady. And no, they wouldn’t take her on to dance with snakes either; she wasn’t pretty enough, voluptuous enough, feminine enough. In other words, good enough. The last manager she had talked to before giving up completely had chomped on his cigar for a while and then offered her a job a
s a pit geek. Dressing like a savage and biting the snakes and frogs and rats thrown down to her by the handler. Groaning and screeching and rubbing blood on her face as the crowd looked down from above.
Ruby started the truck’s engine and breathed deeply. At least at the Star Light, she had her own bally, her own show, her own tent and wagon and billing. She had her dignity. Ruby glanced at her fingers, stretched out along the curve of the steering wheel. It was because of Pontilliar that she was trapped by her own skin, imprisoned by the webbing of her own body. Ruby knew Pontilliar would never willingly admit to the damage he had caused, would never apologize for her fate, but Ruby knew, too, that he would always allow a place for her in the Star Light. Ruby and Pontilliar were tied together by guilt and necessity, each daily reminding the other of what they owed, and had taken from, each other.
Ruby didn’t speak to a single soul for six months after her mother died of a rattlesnake bite. When Miranda came stumbling into the cabin, face pale and streaked with dirt and sweat, bony fingers clutching her right wrist, already crimson and swelling, Ruby’s grandfather had sent her racing down the mountain to their nearest neighbors, the Wynnes, in what twelve-year-old Ruby thought was a desperate attempt to save her mother’s life. She couldn’t have known that her grandfather had only sent her away to spare her the cruelty of watching his daughter puff up and bloat, writhing on the dirt floor in agony. He had known she was lost from the moment he had laid eyes on the bite.
When Ruby made it back to the cabin after dark, alone, the Wynnes having deserted Jackrabbit Mountain months before, she stood outside the closed door and listened. She waited for groans. She waited for calls for water, for screams, for quiet murmurings. The terrifying silence drove her back into the trees and she sought shelter in the crook of an oak, her legs and ankles bloody from the briars she had crashed through. Her face dry with the tears she refused to cry.