“Oh, man.” Milosh looked at her with mournful eyes. “You know, the tryout—nobody blames you for that. Merriwether’s transfer was the real nail in the coffin. And—I don’t think the others are gonna be too keen on getting the show back together.”
Birdie said in a quiet, strained voice, “I know. I really messed up and everyone’s so mad at me that they won’t work with me, but I was thinking—”
“No matter if they won’t work with you. Hazel and Oscar—Hazel gave him back his ring.”
“No.” Birdie’s heart sank.
“Oscar’s up north of Chicago, staying with an old friend of his. He’s been coming around, inviting us out. Hazel and June are staying at the boarding house. They’re thinking of trying for the National Air Races individually, maybe get a spot in a race or demo. They’ll hang out till then, give rides to rubes, that sort of thing. Ruth offered them a spot in the Hollbrook circus, too.”
“The Hollbrook circus?” Birdie hadn’t considered that she might come back and find … “Everyone’s gone?”
“Merri, Bennie, and the boys are still here. She’s been giving rides to the local kids, and Bennie’s been trying to fix up the damned car. He might end up having to trade it in. They’re planning on moving on, but haven’t figured out a plan yet.”
“But—what about Merriwether’s Flying Circus of the Air?” The determination that had driven Birdie all the way from Glen Cove evaporated. She had been fired up to fix everything and make the circus take her back—but there was no circus.
“It’s over, I guess. A lot of stuff’s coming to an end these days, for lots of people. It’s not just us.” He patted her knee. “Don’t fret. We’ll figure out something.”
She sank back against the leather seat. “What are you and Colette gonna do?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “We need the circus more than the rest of you, or something like it. I’m hoping we’ll find something here in Chicago, at a theater show or something like that, or maybe head back to New York.”
“I guess I’m heading that way,” Birdie said bitterly. “I can give you a lift.”
“Who knows, maybe we’ll try to track down a Ringling train and get in with them. We ran into some trouble in a three-ring before, but it’s also what we know best. Who knows, maybe it’s time to give it another shot. Maybe we won’t have a choice.”
Birdie felt numb and drained. “This is all my fault.”
Milosh sighed and let his head fall backward, closing his eyes against the bright sky. “Well, sitting around blaming yourself isn’t gonna do much good.”
She didn’t know where to go from here. Sometimes a wobble turned into a crash that you never recovered from. “Suppose there’s nowhere to go but back to Glen Cove.” If she even could. She didn’t think she had enough money for gas to get back to New York. She looked sideways at Milosh, watching the light flicker on his amber skin as a cloud passed overhead. “Where is home for you?”
He kept his eyes closed. “Home is not ‘where.’ It’s ‘who.’”
That wasn’t much of an answer. “But where did you grow up?”
“All over the place. My family never stopped moving.”
“So you grew up in the circus?”
“Not exactly.” He paused. “My folks are Roma,” he said carefully.
“Roman?”
“Roma. Travelers. My grandparents came from Europe, but they were from somewhere else before that. We are always from somewhere else.”
Birdie had never heard the word Roma in her life. “Colette, too? Is she—Roma?”
“No.” He opened his eyes and straightened, and sad look on his face as he stared out the window. “I—there’s rules about that. That’s why we left the three-ring where we met. Well—she had other reasons for leaving. But my family would not acknowledge us.”
So many rules about who you should love in this world! All of them ridiculous in the face of the care she saw between him and Colette, or Bennie and Merriwether. “So Colette is home for you now.”
He drummed a beat on the steering wheel, his face clearing. “One day I’ll try again with my family, if I can find them. I like to think they’d act differently if they had another chance. They are good people.” He smiled. “But yes. If I’m with Colette, that’s enough for me.”
Birdie’s eyes welled. Glen Cove was no longer the home she longed for in her mind. Dad was gone. Mom was still there—and she’d made it clear that she’d prefer that Birdie stayed, though she’d given Birdie the car once she promised to call from the road every chance she got—but Birdie couldn’t imagine going back right now.
She missed the circus, the family of sorts that took her in with curiosity and kindness. What an adventure the past few weeks had been. Dancing and performing and feeling like she might have a future doing what she loved best. And kissing June, spending time with her—that sense of falling and longing and never wanting to leave—
An idea blazed in her mind, desperation throwing one last switch. “If I could get Hazel and June and Oscar back,” said Birdie slowly. “If I could convince them to do this show, do you think you and Colette and everyone else would still want to do it?”
“I bet we all would,” said Milosh. “But I don’t see how you’ll work that. Hazel’s not gonna work with Oscar. And neither of the girls are happy with you—they’d probably say no just to spite you. A small-time show might make them a little bit of extra money, but it won’t be enough to entice them. Fact of the matter is, most folks that come and see an air show don’t pay for it. It’s nothing like the NAR contract would have been.”
“I’ve got an idea that would make our show a thousand times better than the NAR.” Birdie was energized again. It was a long shot, but it was the only idea she had. Sinclair Stevens was making a new movie that would need stunt pilots. He had said he was meeting with the investors a week from Monday.
That was tomorrow.
Sinclair Stevens was still in Chicago.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BIRDIE PUSHED THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE MAYFLY CAFÉ IN THE EARLY evening. Milosh had told her Oscar had stopped by that morning and invited him there for a drink, and sure enough Oscar was standing at the bar with another guy. He looked simultaneously more disheveled and more rich than she remembered him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, loose tie, hair standing on end.
Oscar had always been sweet and friendly, but she had a sinking feeling she might have tainted his attitude. She walked across the black-and-white tile, heels clicking softly in the vast room, and stopped a few feet away from his back. “Oscar.”
He turned. “Whoa!” He looked almost frightened, which took her aback. “Birdie! I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
Birdie smoothed her skirt with twitchy hands. “Can I join you?”
Oscar’s jaw clenched as he dropped her gaze and stared into his drink.
Oscar’s friend eyeballed her, then stuck out a thick hand. “Nate, nice to meet you.”
Birdie shook it. “Birdie.”
The guy nodded, a smile twitching his lips. “Figured.” He looked at Oscar. “I’m gonna head outside for a smoke. Back in ten.”
Oscar breathed out heavily. Birdie could smell liquor on him, but he didn’t seem drunk. “Thanks, Nate,” he said.
Birdie took a stool, and Oscar ordered her a gin fizz. Birdie commented on the weather. Oscar didn’t respond. They sat in awkward silence until the drink appeared. “What are you doing?” he asked tersely, handing it to her. “I’m going to try to be civil here, but never seeing you again was my best-case scenario.”
Birdie took a deep breath and watched her tight grip on the glass whiten her knuckles. She deserved that. “You can’t imagine how sorry I am,” she started.
“I’m pretty sure you can’t imagine how sorry I am.” He pinched his lips together and looked down, tapping his tumbler against the bar.
“I heard about—that Hazel—” She stopped when she saw his face twist up at Hazel’s
name. It felt too cruel to finish the sentence. “Listen, Oscar. I’m gonna make it up to you.”
“You can’t,” he said, clenching his hand around his drink. “The only thing you can do is just leave me alone. Please.” He looked like he had right after Charlie fell, like the wattage inside of him had dimmed. She couldn’t bear the sad slope of his shoulders.
“I’m going to get the show back together,” she said, trying to sound confident, and not like she’d thought of the million ways it could all go wrong. “And I’m gonna convince Hazel to give you another chance.”
“You’re nuts.” His voice was hard. “We lost our shot at the NAR. Nobody’s gonna work with you, and Hazel’s not going to work with me. You’ve got nothing.”
She leaned in. “Listen, if I could get Hazel to do the Peter Pan show as our own barnstorming circus, and she was willing to work with you, would you do it?”
“God. Yes. I would do it.” The pain in his eyes lifted a little. “Please, don’t mess with me. You better have some plan!”
“That man I left the Hot Toddy with that night—it was Sinclair Stevens.”
Oscar’s eyes went wide. “Says you!”
“It’s true! He was talking all night about how he was putting together his next film—a war flick, Oscar. He was talking about casting men and women in the flying roles, and needing tons of stunt pilots.” She wasn’t lying—he had talked about all of those things—but just in passing, just making conversation.
Oscar was right, she was nuts to think she could make this into something.
Oscar dimmed again. “It was Hazel’s dream to head out to Hollywood and do something like that. And I always thought we’d go, you know, after we got married, and try our luck.”
Birdie made her pitch. “What if I could guarantee that Mr. Stevens was at our show, and that he was considering hiring us? Do you think Hazel would do it then?”
Oscar stared at her. “Oh my God. Yes. I think she would.” He beamed suddenly, enthusiasm lighting him up like a bulb. “Birdie! Is this a sure thing?”
“No,” she admitted, “but I know where he’s staying, I know he’s still in town, and I know he thinks I’m cute.” She smiled tentatively. “How could he resist an invitation to the best air show Chicago has ever seen, when he’s looking for the best stunt pilots in the country?”
Oscar shook his head, his expression grave again, though the light in his eyes remained. “Me and you can’t even talk to each other, Birdie. Tell Hazel we won’t so much as look at each other, if she agrees to do it.”
Birdie giggled, relieved that he was feeling hopeful enough to joke. “Whatever it takes!” She looked down. “Thank you. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me, if I pull this off.”
“Oh, I’m terrible at holding a grudge.” He ran his hands through his hair and gave her a lopsided smile. “Consider yourself forgiven.”
“Oh, don’t go too easy on me now.”
“Listen—I know I flirted with you some. I—you know, I really did like you. I just—what me and Hazel have—”
“I know,” Birdie said softly. “You did nothing wrong. And I’ll convince Hazel of that if it kills me.”
Birdie almost lost her nerve when she pulled up to the boarding house lot. It was late in the evening, the sky full of stars. The front porches were dark, but she could see lights and hear voices coming from the back of the building. She thought she heard the buzz of a plane in the field, but it was surely too dark to fly at this hour. Birdie killed the headlights and sat in the car for a few minutes before she got out and made her way hesitantly toward the sound of people, tripping over a bicycle in the dark. Around the corner, a crew of girls and guys sat on the back porch under the glare of a single hanging bulb, laughing and smoking and gesturing out toward the field.
These people had seen her ruin the tryout, and they’d surely heard what she’d done to Hazel by now. Birdie lingered in the shadows of the house. She could just leave. She could come back in the morning when they wouldn’t all be sitting in ranks, lined up to face her down.
There was June, leaning on Ruth’s knee, hair tucked behind her ear. Birdie felt a jolt in her chest, like a propeller trying to catch. She had forgotten the perfect line of June’s jaw. How smooth and tan her skin looked above the collar of her shirt. Ruth passed June a cigarette, and Birdie watched her hands take it, her lips touch the paper. Ruth’s hand was on June’s back with a casual touch and something twisted up in Birdie’s stomach, something that made her want to walk up and slap Ruth’s face and turn to June and ask her to dance.
Hazel was curled next to June, her long legs tucked up on the step beneath her, hair hiding her face. Someone exclaimed loudly, a few people stood up, and Hazel’s head jerked up. She stared out at the field, then looked away distractedly, her smile fading. The overhead light made the shadows deep beneath her eyes.
Birdie deserved whatever judgment this crowd held for her. She was here to fix things with Hazel, not because of the way June had danced with her, or the way her mouth touched a blossom or the paper of a cigarette. Even if June never kissed her or touched her or even spoke to her again, Birdie needed to try to make up for what she’d done.
The unmistakable hum of an airplane engine grew louder. And Birdie squinted out toward the field. A couple of lights bobbed around in the darkness, people holding flares of some sort. Then flares appeared in the sky above the field, very low—coming in fast—a plane was flying in the dark, with only a few flares to illuminate its path. A few people shouted, then someone screamed. The plane hit the field hard, flares bouncing in between the jostling lights out on the field, but then it coasted to a relatively smooth stop and everyone cheered.
Birdie left the shadows as everyone ran up to the plane in the darkness. June and Hazel stayed on the porch, but June was leaning in to say something to Ruth and didn’t notice Birdie approach.
“That was really neat,” Birdie said to the guy who had climbed out of the plane—he was the one who had tried to talk with her at the boarding house the first time she’d been there. “I didn’t know you could fly at night.”
“Thanks.” His eyes flitted to Hazel, and she knew he’d heard what she’d done. “Ah, just working on a stunt for our NAR show. Preliminary trial.”
Birdie took a deep breath and turned. Hazel had spotted her and had the same, almost frightened look on her face that Oscar had when he recognized her. Birdie felt like a monster. Then June looked up, and only anger registered in her eyes. Birdie’s heartbeat sped up, lifting off in uncertain weather.
“Hazel.” She met her eyes, even though it was so hard. “Hi. Can I talk to you?”
“Well, look who it is,” said June sardonically, as Hazel looked away. Ruth pressed her lips together to hold back a smile.
“I want to apologize.” Birdie couldn’t look at June as she walked up. She would be contrite. She was the one at fault.
“You don’t have to apologize to these people.” June made a sweeping gesture, and Birdie noticed the open flask in her hand. “It’s because of you that they’ll be performing in our stead at the second annual National Air Races. That’s quite a gift you’ve given them.”
June’s words threatened to throw her off course. Birdie clenched her fists and kept her eyes focused on Hazel. “Hazel. Just for a minute. Please.”
“Oh, you want to apologize to Hazel?” June took a deliberate swallow from her flask. “Yeah, nothing you can say is gonna make up for that.”
Hazel looked at Birdie suddenly, her expression pained. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
June stood up.
“No.” Hazel caught June’s hand. “It’s okay.”
“I’m coming.”
“June.” Hazel waited.
June looked like a wire strung taut, but she gave Hazel’s hand a squeeze and sat back down, Ruth putting a hand on her knee.
Hazel stood up, walked down the steps, and came to a stop right in front of Birdie, arms crossed. “So, what
is it you want to say to me?”
She was very intimidating, even when she looked so tired and sad. “Let’s um—come here for a minute.” Birdie was relieved when Hazel trailed her away from the porch into the gloom outside the bare light bulb’s glare. Birdie faced away from the boarding house. Hushed chatter and muffled laughter continued behind her—everyone was watching, everyone was judging her.
“What happened was absolutely my fault, not Oscar’s.” Birdie took a deep breath. “Oscar was just being nice, he was just bringing me some food and—”
Hazel’s hard laugh cut her off. “Yeah, he was being nice all right. He was doing his best ‘nice guy.’ I’ve seen it before, though it had been a long time. I thought he’d changed.”
“No! He just brought the food and I—”
“You guys spent some time together before I met up with the show. I knew he liked you but—I thought—” Hazel’s dress still showed off a full figure, but her face had a hollow look to it. Her eyes were enormous, her cheekbones sharp. “How could he do that to me? It makes me think—I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought.” She hugged her arms around herself.
“You gotta trust that he’s a good guy. I know that he would never hurt you. I’m the one who did this. I’m the bad guy.”
“I want to believe it,” Hazel said. “I want to just scream at you and forgive him but—it’s too hard to believe.”
Fine. If Birdie couldn’t convince Hazel of Oscar’s innocence right now, she’d have more time if she could convince Hazel of her plan. “I have something else to tell you,” she said, switching tracks.
Hazel waited, arms still crossed around her middle, as Birdie told her the plan. Sinclair’s movie. Inviting him to the show. Putting on the show at Henrieta’s exactly how they’d wanted to perform it at the NAR, and convincing Sinclair to give them a spot in his next flick. Hazel bit her lip and listened, eyes wide.
“If you think you can work with Oscar—and me—I think we could make this work. I think you could get your chance at Hollywood right here.”
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