Girl on a Wire

by Gwenda Bond

  “I think she’s great,” I told him, seriously. “I can’t wait to get to know her.”

  “She is,” he agreed. “But don’t scare her off.”

  He and I exchanged a conspiratorial smile.

  “There’s something you should know,” I said. “Something Remy and I found out. Nan, well, she had an affair with Roman Garcia.”

  Sam gave a low whistle. “You think that’s why he spread all that stuff about her? So he’d come off like the innocent, misled lamb kind of cheater?”

  I nodded. “And maybe it’s why she’s so determined to cling to this idea of being able to do magic. I’m thinking maybe it’s that she’s still hurting from that after all these years. Maybe he even helped convince her it was true that she could do magic in the first place. He sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “You’re right about that,” Sam said. “Dita told me about his reaction the first time she borrowed one of her brother’s suits and wore it. She was just a kid, and he threw it away. Told her she was born to wear sequins and be a fantasy for boys, not dress like them.”

  He was angry when he said it, and so was I. Roman Garcia wasn’t fit to date our Nan, let alone break her heart and leave her with a delusion that sent our family out into the cold for decades.

  “How did you find out?” he asked. “And why?”

  Oh. It wasn’t that I’d been keeping it a secret from Sam for any real reason. I knew he’d agree with me about the importance of finding out the real history—so we could explain away the “magic.” But it felt like the mystery belonged to Remy and me. The rose with the elephant hair, the peacock feather, the articles pinned to the murder board . . . all of it.

  “Just curious,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  There’d be plenty of time to share the rest when we had answers. If I told Sam now, there was no way he would be patient enough to uncover Thurston’s secrets on the sly. He could be as unpredictable as Nan, in his way. Especially if he thought there was a threat to the family. Or to his new girlfriend.

  I hoped he didn’t see the flash of jealousy I felt. I didn’t want to feel it. Hearing from his own mouth that he and Dita were an item, unofficially but officially, drove home that I wasn’t sure how to describe Remy and me anymore. Were we friends? Were we more? I wanted it to be more, but I had no idea.

  “All Call!” one of the clowns bellowed somewhere not that far off, and Sam and I started back.

  A group of stragglers came into view. The Garcias, including Dita and Remy, happened to be in front. Dita had on a man’s loose white button-down, and gave a casual little wave to Sam while pretending to smooth her cropped hair behind her ear. His smile turned into one for her alone. Remy and I exchanged a look, one that I wanted to interpret but couldn’t quite. Novio gave Sam and me a mini-sneer, and I blinked first.

  If something else happened between Remy and me, something besides one stolen kiss and looking into circus voodoo. If we became the more I longed for, I still couldn’t imagine telling my parents and Nan we were together. Not yet.

  We joined the tail end of the herd. Sam slipped his phone out of his pocket, and I peeked to see him send Dita a quick text: Good morning, it said, I can’t wait to talk later.

  “Sam, I wish I had your guts,” I said.

  “You don’t need them,” he said, with a familiar Sam shrug. “You’re the Princess of the Air, as brave as it gets.”

  I chose a seat on one of the bottom rows beside Dad. Sam took a spot on Mom’s other side, and they began discussing the horses.

  “What’s this about?” I asked Dad.

  “Bosses like to remind everyone who the boss is from time to time,” Dad said, and added, “And we let them believe it.”

  Well, he was in a good mood. Probably because he didn’t know his two youngest family members were traitors. Definitely because, unlike me, he had no reason to harbor any mistrust of Thurston.

  I surveyed the crowd of performers and crew settling into the stands. Once people had stopped coming in, and a low hum of conversation buzzed, the center ring spot came on and the owner in question strode in like he was performing. He was dressed in a T-shirt though, not his ringmaster’s tails.

  With a wave of his hand, the crowd quieted. He had gotten better at commanding the reaction he wanted, and with him right in front of me, it was hard to believe he was up to anything except doing his job.

  “I thought it was time for a meeting, now that we’ve been on the road for more than five weeks, and we’re hitting our stride. As you all know, we have five days of shows in our biggest city yet coming up at the end of next week: Chicago.”

  This earned a few catcalls and whistles from the crowd, and he brightened, clearly encouraged to go on.

  “It’s the big marker at the middle of our season. We’ll have some VIP guests, but more, we’ll have an opportunity to truly make that national splash we’ve all been waiting for. We’ve come close, but this is when we cement our story. When we convince the world we’re a success.” He paused. “Trust me when I say the spotlights will be brighter than ever. I want you to pull out every stop. Anything you’ve been holding back, let it go.” He lightened his tone to add, “Garcias, make that quad and there’s a significant bonus in it for you.”

  I cringed on Remy’s behalf. They were at the bend on the other side of the stands from us, so we had a decent view of them. Remy set his arm across the back of his mother’s shoulders, nudging her with his own shoulder, getting her to smile at Thurston’s challenge. Hers was a worse false smile than Dita’s. Remy was better at it than both of them.

  “And Jules . . .”

  I startled. Thurston scanned the crowd until he found me, then went on.

  “You’re the other half of my victory plan. The city has asked us if you’d hold off the building walk until their Fourth of July festivities. It’ll be the day after our last shows, but in the same location we’d discussed.”

  My pulse jumped at the news. The Chicago site was going to be the biggest and best of my outdoor wire walks since the bridge in Jacksonville. Doing it over the holiday meant an even larger crowd. The idea was exciting, but tackling another stunt this high profile did scare me a little, with our culprit still unknown. I once again had the feeling I was on a ship before a storm, that the stands and the earth were rocking beneath my feet.

  Thurston gathered his hands in front of him, then swung them out, palms opening with a flourish. “This is it, guys. This is when we will make or break the Cirque American’s future. It’s been a pleasure coming this far, but from here until our last show in August, there’s no letting up.”

  Since the season started, I hadn’t given any thought to the Cirque not continuing on next year. But beneath Thurston’s showman was a businessman. He’d walk away if this wasn’t as huge a success as he expected. Of course he would. He could do it and not look back. It was up to us to make it worth his while not to. The earth was definitely shifting beneath my feet. I had to stay upright, no matter what potential saboteurs lurked in the wings. Even if the boss giving us instructions turned out to be behind it all.

  And I thought the stakes were high before.

  twenty

  * * *

  Our next few dates, in Des Moines, passed in a blur, with everyone full of anticipation for what came next. I’d been stuck, unable to sneak out, this time cursed with an insomniac Nan. Even Sam had been trapped at home for a few nights. At least I had someone to commiserate with.

  But this was the last night before we traveled to Chicago, and I decided to go for it anyway, even though Nan was awake and watching a movie. I didn’t bother asking if Sam wanted to leave together. Sharing this secret didn’t make it any less risky for me. Like I’d said to him: boy perks, he got them. And if he and Dita took their relationship public, those boy perks—and him being my Dad’s nephew instead of his son—would protect him from the full Maroni wrath and being locked in his room until age one hundred.

  No such
protection existed for this solnyshka, the precious only daughter. That status had its perks too, but getting away with private time with Remy—who I’d been expressly warned against—wasn’t likely to be one of them.

  So I took even more care than usual passing through the shadows to the main tent. I waited, watching the entrance. Once I was certain I was alone, I darted across the green and inside the darkened backstage area—

  Where hands grabbed me and spun me around. I squeaked in surprise. As soon as I processed that someone had jumped out to scare me, I expected it to be Sam. But it was Remy. He was laughing, turning me in his arms to face him. “Wow, I got you good.”

  I shoved at his chest. “Not funny.”

  His arms stayed around me, holding me loosely in front of him. “Funny from where I’m standing.”

  Our eyes met, and his laughter died down, faded into a heavier moment. I realized this was the if moment. The possibility for more moment.

  I exhaled, shaky. “Remy.”

  “Yeah?”

  I really shouldn’t watch his lips so closely.

  Biting my own lip, I lifted a hand to his bicep. I resisted the urge to hold on, to see where this would go, and instead patted his arm. “We’d better get you up there. When you make the quad in Chicago, that’ll show them all.”

  “Right.” He didn’t move for a long second.

  My heart beat beat beat and I wanted him not to let me go, even though I’d as much as asked him to. But he did, releasing me with a shrug of his shoulders. He gave me a sideways glance. “After you,” he said.

  I followed him through the nearly dark entryway and into the better-lit big top. I was such a coward. I’d never felt like a coward before. But what if he didn’t want the same thing as me?

  “So,” he said, as we approached center ring, “Dita told me she’s been seeing Sam. He a good guy?”

  “What did you tell her?” I asked.

  He kept on track toward the ladder, already down in wait for his first attempt on the swing. The spots lit the trapeze and the net below.

  “About us? Nothing,” he said. “Just that we were hanging out sometimes.”

  There was a strain to the words. We were usually so easy together. This night wasn’t turning out to be anything I was prepared for.

  “He’s a great guy,” I said. “And he told me he really likes her.”

  “Good.” He stopped and focused his full attention on me. “Dita is special. She knows who she is, but that just means it hurts her more when she’s rejected. A lot of people can’t even see her, because their own garbage is in the way.”

  “Spoken like an excellent big brother. She’s lucky.”

  He gave a small bow, and when he straightened, our eyes caught again. “I have my moments.”

  Yes. Yes you do. I smiled at him. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll impress you yet.”

  There was an edge to his voice that made me shiver. With fear or anticipation, I couldn’t say.

  He climbed the ladder with an economy of motion borne of the hundreds of times he’d done it. I sank down into my usual vantage spot just this side of the net, worrying that I was ruining things. Was I imagining our chemistry? I didn’t think so. But I also didn’t know if most of his connection to me came from wanting to make sure I was safe on the wire, and atone for his grandfather’s bad karma. I sighed. I hated when girls in movies did this, went back and forth, back and forth, about whether someone was into them.

  As I looked up and watched Remy chalking his hands on the platform far above, my perspective on everything suddenly shifted. Because wait. Why was I worrying about his intentions, anyway? The question was what I wanted. He’d offered me an opening, and I’d shut that door in his face. I’d patted his arm. I’d sent a clear message. But I wasn’t sure it was the right one.

  Sam had told me I didn’t need his guts, but I was having trouble locating my own backbone. This wasn’t a trouble I’d ever had before. My family’s approval was important to me, but was it the most important? I already knew Sam’s answer to that question. But what was mine?

  Remy stepped off the platform and grabbed the swing with one strong movement. He swung out wide, slicing into the air. He was in optimal form, swinging powerful and high, gaining speed quickly. But not too much speed, and not too quickly. And then it was time.

  He tightened his body, released the bar, and curled into his first spin, hanging there in defiance of gravity through his second, his third, his fourth, and then he came out of it, dropping fast—

  I don’t know when I stood, but I was on my feet.

  He was dropping with his hands extended—

  There, right there. He’d done it. Novio would have caught him, no problem.

  One of his hands tightened into a fist and pumped the air as he spun down into the net.

  I was jumping up and down when he hit. Powered by pure joy, I raced over to meet him. We were both laughing. “You did it!” I shouted.

  “I know!” He tipped forward out of the net, reaching out and pulling me toward him, reeling me in closer and closer until his lips were against mine—

  I hesitated for the length of one heartbeat, and then, then I was kissing him back. Our lips fit together like they were made for it.

  I leaned into him, and his arms circled me. My arms slid around his neck and my hand tangled in his sweat-damp hair. There was nothing tentative about either of us this time. He made a noise and tugged me forward and we fell into the net together.

  “Swoon,” I said.

  I had. Practically. We were both laughing again. The net swayed under us. He’d made sure his arm was under my side to keep the mesh from biting into my skin. Cary Grant-esque. Better. Cary might have been in vaudeville, and even learned trapeze, but he couldn’t have ever pulled off a quad like that, now could he?

  Remy shifted so we were curled toward each other. Face-to-face. Our laughter vanished. But the heaviness didn’t return. We were floating.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, his mouth coming closer to mine.

  And I was. I was also watching his lips again. “Sure as sure gets.”

  Slowly he tilted his head, and we were kissing again. It was like this was the taste of victory, the best sort of madness. Addictive.

  It wasn’t until I made it back into my room later and crawled under the covers, my heart still pounding, my lips kiss-swollen, that I worried how we’d ever manage to keep this particular madness under wraps.

  I shrugged.

  Maybe we wouldn’t. Sam was right. Parents got over things. It was one of the things they were best at. And those kisses? Those had been pure magic, and there was no mystery to that.

  twenty-one

  * * *

  The city of Chicago felt as blazing hot as the surface of the sun as our pack of Cirque performers hiked alongside Grant Park on the way to our parade. Heat rose from the sidewalk in waves. I stayed with Dad in the middle of the pack. Mom and Sam were riding off to the side on tall white mounts.

  The setup here was way more complicated than normal. The big top was at the far southern end of the park, with baseball diamonds around the wide grassy space where it was erected. Sawdust and earth topped a thin layer of material to help protect the ground. The waterfront was close, just a crossed highway and some sidewalk away from where the tent was staged. The park hosted plenty of festivals and tromping feet for other events, but Thurston had to sign papers promising there’d still be grass under there when we left.

  I scanned the pack until I spotted the Garcias. I could make out Remy’s black hair about fifteen feet ahead of us and to the left. I felt almost dizzy and nearly delirious every time I replayed our last night together in my head, but I couldn’t stop. Yesterday’s travel day had been a logistical nightmare, which meant I hadn’t seen him face-to-face again yet. I was filled with butterflies about it. I wished there was someone I could talk to—about how fast or slow I should be taking
things, about when it made sense for kissing and touching to turn into something else.

  Broaching the subject with my old confidante Nan was out of the question. And it wasn’t like I could grill Sam about whether he was a virgin and, if not, the details. The very idea of the expression on his face if I did made me crack up.

  Remy must have heard my laugh, because he turned, and our eyes met. My heart backflipped at the connection, even with a crowd of people in the way. I was definitely still swooning.

  Dad rolled his eyes affectionately at me, because as far as he was concerned, I was laughing for no reason. I vowed to enjoy today as much as possible. If Remy agreed with me that we should come clean, then my dad would be mad at me, maybe for a long time. Nan would definitely freak.

  The idea of disappointing my family was the lone dark cloud that hung over my impossibly sunny mood. But then I heard Sam’s voice in my head, talking about Dita: I don’t care if they disapprove. They’ll have to get over it. He’d been so confident that I was brave too. I wanted him to be right.

  When we reached the corner of Michigan Avenue, Thurston summoned Dad and me up front. Like always around him these days, my thoughts gravitated to the letter in his valise of old posters and why he’d moved it. What was he up to? But I was distracted when Remy caught my eye again. He gave me a hello with a subtle tilt of his chin. My toes curled. I gave him a big grin, not caring if I looked goofy.

  Next to him, Dita scanned the crowd, then looked down as if disappointed. I was sure she’d been searching for Sam. So I checked to make sure Dad was occupied talking with Thurston, and hooked a thumb to point behind the horde of performers. She nodded, mouthed a silent Oh. She was wearing her costume, customized with her usual bow tie.

  I realized too late that our minor exchange had drawn Novio’s attention. He was now staring at me. Remy jostled Novio to distract him, and to my relief it worked. I played dumb and swung into motion and around the corner before he could look again.