The bikes seemed to hang in the air, even when the movie was playing in real-time speed, and I gotta say, with the extreme angles she’d used, it really did look as though we were dancing on air.
And there was the carnival in all its grit and glory. You could feel your hands rubbed raw as the roustabouts pulled on tent ropes, you could smell the fried foods and taste the funnel cake, you could feel the two-stroke fuel flowing through the throbbing bike engines.
You could see the sweat on our faces, the challenge and fire in our eyes as we performed handstands, parallel jumps, criss-crossing leaps where timing was everything, standing on the handlebars and flying through the air, sailing in the sky, although in reality it was only seconds. You could see every detail of the bikes from the gleaming chrome, 12 bars and sub cages to oil, sand and dirt.
As the final credits rolled, the team from No Limits were on their feet clapping and yelling. Sara slunk down into her seat, equal parts pleased and embarrassed.
The house lights snapped on and Seymour Michaels stood up at the front of the theater.
“I’ve got one word to say to you all,” he shouted. “Sundance!”
Yeah, not what I was expecting, but the No Limits employees seemed to understand.
“What’s he talking about, babe?” I asked Sara.
Peanut chose that moment to wake up and demand to be held, so I plucked him out of his carrier and bounced him on my shoulder.
“The Sundance Film Festival,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “They’re talking about taking my movie to the largest independent film festival in the whole US!”
I was so proud of her. So damn proud. I pulled her up, keeping one hand firmly around Peanut and kissed the hell out of her. Peanut didn’t appreciate being squashed between us and let out a screech that made us both wince.
Kes was laughing, his arms around Aimee and Dove; Tera and Tucker were making out in the back row; and Luke and Zach were surrounded by No Limit staff, smiling and laughing. Seymour Michaels swooped in to kiss Sara, keeping one eye on me as I frowned at him.
“You’ve got a very talented young woman there, Zef,” he said. “Hang onto her.”
“I intend to,” I said.
For the rest of my life.
Then a young kid entered carrying an enormous bunch of flowers in every imaginable color and presented them to Sara.
“Oh wow! These are so beautiful! Who are they from?”
She plucked the card and read out the words that I’d dictated to the florist over the phone.
To the beautiful woman who has brought color into my life.
Congratulations! I love you.
She blushed and looked up at me.
“Thank you, they’re gorgeous. But what if the movie sucked?”
“I knew it wouldn’t.”
“But it might have!”
“Well, in that case, I guess the flowers are because I’m apologizing for my bad behavior later.”
She laughed, her eyes shining, and I thought, Yes, I want to hear that for the rest of my life.
I thought about the whole day later as I lay awake that night, Sara breathing softly next to me. We’d gone home and made love silently as Peanut lay sleeping in his crib, watched over by Socks, who dozed with one eye open.
In the digital age, why do we still dream about running away to join the circus? What is it that pulls at our imaginations? Is it like Ollo used to say, sawdust and stardust? Or is it something in our blood? Something that calls to us, the open road, the stars in the sky, the audiences who find magic in what we do?
Maybe it’s all of that.
I’d been down as low as a man could get: addicted to alcohol and drugs, selling shit that fucked up people’s lives, spending time in prison with the dregs of humanity, evil fuckers . . . and men like me who’d taken a wrong turn in life.
It’s not easy to claw your way back up, but the carnival had done that for me, given me a second chance in life.
And now I had everything I could want, which isn’t so much as it turns out. I had my friends and family; a woman who loved me, despite all my flaws and failings; I had a son that I’d lay down my life for.
And I had the carnival.
Life was good.
Fourteen months later . . .
We don’t have a white picket fence, a minivan or a dog. Instead we have an RV, part-time ownership of a Kaapori Capuchin named Bojangles, an African Grey Parrot who answers to Socrates, and our precious little Peanut, also officially known as Ollie.
Different strokes for different folks.
When we decided to name Ollie for our lost friend, I found out something else important about names. In the Bible, Sara was the wife of Abraham and mother of Isaac. Her name was originally Sarai which means ‘quarrelsome’, but God commanded that her name be changed to Sara before the birth of her son. It means ‘princess’. That seems kind of cool to me. Sara wasn’t so amused. She says she’s going to look up the meaning of ‘Joseph’ but she hasn’t yet. Probably just as well. It probably says ‘freak’ next to my name.
I don’t know how much longer my body will let me do stunts, flying through the air on 200 pounds of metal; I don’t know how much more punishment my body can take. Five or six years—less, if I blow my knee out again.
Everything has changed in the last eighteen months, and for the better.
On the business side, Seymour Michaels surprised us all by coming through for us, and now we make pretty decent money advising on motorcycle riding stunts in the movies and doing some of the tougher ones ourselves. We fit that around our Pomona gig, and seeing as that’s mostly in the evenings, it works out well for everyone. We’d only be able to do a real short tour with the carnival in the summer, but we’d definitely do it.
Michaels is also pushing ahead with plans to make a TV show about a stunt rider with a traveling carnival, and he’s going to write us into the contracts as ‘associate producers’ since the majority of the stories are based on us. I guess he wants the publicity the Daredevils are getting these days.
Kes still doesn’t fully trust him, even when he’s seen for himself the money landing in his bank account, but then again he doesn’t really trust anyone who isn’t a carnie. But Zach is no one’s fool when it comes to paperwork and the law, so I think we’ll be okay. I reckon that he could have been like one of Michaels’ high-priced shark lawyers if he’d gotten a college education along with a better start in life, but he seems happy with the way things are.
One thing that none of us saw coming is Luke’s new career. As well as stunting, he’s been working with Lisanne’s band on a theme song for the new show, and if it’s good, which it will be, they might do some more song-writing together. With 32o North riding high, who knows how far they could go.
The band won a Grammy for Best New Artist, and their first album Elephant Shoes topped the charts for weeks. It’s been hard for Lisanne and Daniel. She’s touring a lot of the time, and Daniel is training or playing away games. I know they’ll work it out—they’re solid.
The Falcons didn’t make it to the play-offs last year, but this year is looking good.
As for Sara, she’s trying to build a relationship with her parents. It’s not easy, but she’s trying. Her old man isn’t so bad, but her mom . . . well, it’s much more of a work in progress.
We heard that Liam and his wife split up. She blames Sara, but at heart she knows that isn’t the whole story. She wouldn’t have divorced the son-of-a-bitch otherwise. Owen went away to school on his baseball scholarship. Sara says he’s not in touch with his dad and never goes home to Montana. She’s not in contact with him, but I think her dad hears from time to time.
Not that Liam is in Missoula anymore. Word is, he got some job as a deputy sheriff down in Texas or something. I don’t care so long as he stays away from us. Not that I think that will be a problem—he couldn’t sign those termination papers fast enough. Sara didn’t say much, but I know that had to sting.
Ollie is my son, and I’ll never think of him any other way. We’ll tell him the truth one day when he’s old enough to understand and it’ll be up to him if he decides to find his birth father. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But for now, I’m going to love him hard and be the best father I can. That’s a work in progress, too. And I’m also going to work on being a husband. We’re not in any rush, but when the time is right. At least, that’s what I told Sara, but I have plans.
For now, Spring is in the air. I can smell it in the salt-laden breeze that sweeps off the Pacific, and I can see it in the fresh green leaves on the desert figs that surround our ranch house.
We’ll be packing up and moving on in a few days, hitting the road again, getting used to life in the open. I can’t wait to have another year where my son learns about carnival life. I can’t fuckin’ wait.
Sara has been asked to make a documentary about the whole carnival life: the history, how it is today, with plans to interview as many old-timers as possible. Ollo would have approved of that.
Legends: Dancing on Air didn’t win at the Sundance Festival, but it picked up a ton of smaller awards and made a serious amount of money for everyone. Our share will be used to extend the ranch house next Fall. I’m kind of hoping the addition will be needed for a brother or sister for Ollie, but it’ll be what it’ll be. For now, he’s got Dove to play with. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Aimee announced that another little Donohue will be making an appearance sometime during the next year. Or maybe Tucker and Tera will surprise us all and be the next to have a kid.
Ollo loved telling his stories. He told Sara a Blackfoot story about Feather-Woman who fell in love with the Morning Star, but he never told her the ending of that story. They have a child together, Poia, a son. Eventually, he also married and returned with his wife to the Sky-country to be with his parents. Now Poia himself is a star that rises with his father the Morning Star. Not a bad ending, as endings go.
The rest of the movie money will be put into a college fund for Ollie. Neither of his parents have a college degree, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want to. The carnie life isn’t for everyone and if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: we’re all different, we’re all amazing. You can be a nerd, a weirdo, a freak, or play varsity ball and be valedictorian—everyone is equal when you’re a carnie. It doesn’t matter if you have a past like mine; what matters is who you are now.
And this is who I am, Joseph Connor Colton:
I’m a father.
I’m an uncle.
I’m a brother.
I’m a stunt rider.
I’m a carnie.
And when I take my girl up on the Ferris wheel, and when I hit the highest point on the ride, I’ll reach into my pocket and pull out the diamond and sapphire ring that I’ve had made for her. And when she says yes, which she will, it won’t be many more days after that before I’ll be able to say that I’m a husband, too.
I’m many things, like most people. I’m made up of dark and light, good and bad, love and hate. But now I wake every day looking to the light, the woman who shines so bright in my world.
My world—the carnival.
And my mind travels into the past and the future, and I think of all I’ve endured and of all the joy and pain to come, and I think of the friends I’ve made, men who’ve become my brothers, and I think how damn lucky I am to have them all in my life.
Our lives. Our lives in the traveling carnival.
May the lights never dim.
May the Wheel never stop turning.
May the road never end.
May the ride go on forever . . .
FINIS
And so that’s it—it really is the end of the ride. Zef and Sara, Kes and Aimee, Tucker and Tera, Luke and Zach, Daniel and Lisanne, their lives go on, but this is where my story ends. I really hope that you enjoyed Zef’s story—the last in the Traveling series.
But if you’d like to know more about how Daniel and Lisanne met, you’ll want to read Dangerous to Know & Love.
Zef and Sara’s story is for the child in all of us, the one who wanted to run away to the circus and fly on the trapeze, or maybe just eat cotton candy.
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Co-written Titles with Stuart Reardon
Undefeated (coming in January 2018)
Model Boyfriend (coming in late 2018)
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Battle Scars
One Careful Owner
Dangerous to Know & Love
Lifers
At Your Beck & Call
Dazzled
Crazy Love
Summer of Seventeen
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Exposure
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Behind the Wall
Playing in the Rain
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“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none”—this is one of my favourite sayings. Oh, and ‘Be Nice!’ That’s another. Or maybe, ‘Where’s the chocolate?’
I get asked where my ideas come from—they come from everywhere. From walks with my dog on the beach, from listening to conversations in pubs and shops, where I lurk unnoticed with my notebook. And of course, ideas come from things I’ve seen or read, places I’ve been and people I meet.
And if you’re wondering where I got the weird and wonderful (and really revolting) stories of carnie life from just after the Second World War, I’d really recommend reading Step Right Up: Memoirs of a Sword Swallower by Daniel P. Mannix. But then again, if you’re squeamish, maybe not. I’m still haunted by the true story of a man who sewed buttons to his . . . you know what? You’d better find out for yourself . . .
As well as writing about colorful carnival characters, I’ve written several military romances. And because of this, I support these charities:
www.felixfund.org.uk—the UK Bomb Disposal Charity
www.eodwarrriorfoundation.org—the US Bomb Disposal Charity
www.nowzad.com—helping servicemen and women rescue stray and abandoned animals in former and current warzones
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My acclaimed novella PLAYING IN THE RAIN was featured in Huffington Post’s list of Top Ugly Cry Reads! Click here to see the whole list.
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If I truly had to ask everyone who’s ever helped me, I’d have to start with thanking my parents for reading to me a lot of years back, my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Peck and . . . well, you get the picture.
Wanting to write, being a writer, it’s a lifelong lesson, and one that I’m still learning. But there are a number of people who have helped guide and sculpt this book. So I’ll start with these women, all amazing in their own rights, all different, all supportive.
To Kirsten Olsen, friend, confidant, editor, whose support never fails me.
To Tonya ‘Maverick’ Allen, travel buddy and beta reader.
To Audrey Orielle and Dina Farndon Eidinger whose voices whisper in my ears and soar across the oceans.
To Sheena Lumsden for many things, but most of all, unwavering friendship.
To Neda Amini of Ardent Prose for coordinating book launches and so much more.
To Hang Le, for her cover artwork for this book and for all of the TRAVELING SERIES.
To James, who advised me on the kind of bikes the boys would ride,
and the appropriate helmets and clothing. And as he does crazy racing on a very pretty and very expensive Ducati 1200, I expect he knows what he’s talking about.
To Tera Chastain, for letting me take her name in vain—again.
To Gina Behrends, who advised me on all things football.
To all the bloggers who give up their time for their passion of reading and reviewing books—thank you for your support.
Thank you Stalking Angels. You know how much you mean to me and you never let me down. You are my go-to gals, advising, supporting, making me laugh when I need it, reporting pirates, and generally being the best reader group and friendship group I could want. I love all your messages, and thank you so much for being my eyes and ears out in our amazing book world while I hide in my writer’s cave.
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