We watch the remainder of the show in silence. When the announcer says the last word, I stay in my seat, waiting for the crowd to file out. Sebastian jerks off his helmet and storms toward us, but Eros stops him with a palm to his chest.
I can’t hear what Eros is saying, but I can tell he’s trying to talk some sense into Sebastian. What on earth could he possibly be pissed about? I stand, shoving my palms into my back pockets, but all four of them are bombarded with a group of about ten girls. They oblige, taking the time to pose for pictures, even though Sebastian’s eyes don’t stray from our direction, before he’s had enough.
“I should go,” Elliot says dryly as Sebastian prowls toward us. “Wouldn’t want to piss off Sexy Sebastian.” If I wasn’t so preoccupied wondering what Sebastian’s beef with Elliot is, I’d laugh at the unexpected snark in his tone.
Sebastian comes to a stop in front of me, eyes locked on Elliot’s retreating back. “What were you doing with him?”
“Excuse me?”
Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “I told you. You can’t trust anyone here.”
“He’s like your brother,” I say incredulously. Brother might not be an exaggeration, but he’s part of their little crew. If he trusts him enough to have him around, why wouldn’t I trust him? “I figured he’d be on the safe list.”
“He’s not my brother, and no one is on that list.”
“Not even you?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
He flashes me a dark smile. “Least of all me. The most dangerous men are the ones with nothing to lose.”
I cock my head to the side. Had Sebastian just slipped up and gave me a tiny piece of his story? “What do you mean, you don’t have anything to lose?”
His smile falls. “You’re focusing on the wrong part of that statement, Princess. Jessup is having a get-together tonight. We don’t usually go to these things, but it’s the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone.”
“And by introduce me, you really mean stake your claim.”
“Basically.”
“Even though you don’t want me for yourself.”
“That pretty much sums it up, yeah.”
“That’s super fair.”
“Life’s not fair. Besides, it’s for your own good.”
An hour later, the five of us make the trek to Roy’s trailer. It’s a good half-mile away from Sebastian’s, clear across the other side of the lot. A handful of other vehicles form a circle around several folding tables full of food. There are people everywhere. Some are sitting on tailgates drinking beers, dancing, eating… Some people opt to lie back on a blanket on the ground, observing.
As soon as our arrival is noticed, all eyes are on us. The mood shifts, and I can practically hear the unspoken questions. I look to Sebastian, waiting for him to make a move. “Stay close,” he instructs. “We’ll stay long enough to make our point, then we’ll leave.” I nod my understanding. I don’t mind being in crowds or around new people. Never have. I’m used to being the center of attention, whether it’s at school, parties, football games…but this feels different. I feel like fresh blood and I’ve just walked into a coven of vampires.
“Bastian,” a dark-haired girl says, sauntering up to him. Girl isn’t the right word to describe her. She definitely qualifies as a woman with her sexy, smudged eyeliner, tits pushed up to her chin, and curves for days. She’s wearing a shirt that almost shows the bottom swell of her breasts and a pair of tight jeans. Bypassing me, she inserts herself directly between us, curling her hand around the back of his neck. Guess he’s not the only one who’s marking his territory tonight.
Sebastian looks at me over her shoulder with a bored expression as she presses a kiss to his neck. I cover my mouth to hide my smirk. So transparent. “Selina,” he says, not giving her more than a cursory glance before pushing her aside. “This is Evan.”
Selina turns around, eyes narrowed on me. “Hanging out with townies now, are we?”
“Not a townie. She’s with me.” I ignore how my stomach flips at those familiar words, the same words he said when he saved me from that pushy security guard the first night we met.
“Ah, so this is who Valeen told me about,” she says knowingly. Even Sebastian looks slightly caught off guard at her comment.
“And just what did Valeen have to say?”
“That she’s trouble.”
“She is right here,” I chime in, waving a hand. “And she doesn’t appreciate being spoken about like she’s not.”
“And she has claws.” Selina laughs. “Good. You’ll need them here, little girl.” Then she’s walking away, shaking her hips as she goes.
“Old girlfriend?” I guess.
“Something like that. She’s concocted this fantasy in her mind. Thinks we’re going to get married.”
There is no reason to feel jealous. No logical reason for my heart to feel like it’s being squeezed by a fist, but that’s exactly how I feel.
“It’ll never happen. With her or anyone.” Sebastian looks past me. I follow his gaze in the direction of Valeen with another woman. She’s maybe mid-forties, dark hair, and her mouth is set in a firm line. I get the feeling she doesn’t approve of me, even without meeting me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sebastian’s mom,” Eros provides. He takes pity on me, opting to stay close while Lathan and Tres go their own ways.
“She’s beautiful.” Slightly intimidating, but beautiful. “How long have you guys been with the carnival?”
Eros laughs. “Sebastian will tell you we’re not technically with them, but the truth is, this is the only life we’ve ever known. He thought once he was old enough, he’d leave and never look back.” Eros grows uncharacteristically quiet. “But, we’re all he’s got.”
“And you?”
“I’m just here for the pussy.”
I snort out a laugh, and Eros hooks his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s introduce you to our big dysfunctional family.”
“Ah, now that’s something I know all about.”
“You’ll fit right in.”
“MOTHER,” I INCLINE MY HEAD in greeting.
She brings a glass to her lips, and I know without smelling it that it’s vodka. “Sebastian. I see you’ve acquired a new plaything.”
“It’s not like that.”
“I should hope it’s exactly like that and nothing more.”
“She’s a friend.”
“If you care about her at all, you’ll send her on her way before it’s too late.”
Jesus. She’s really on one tonight.
“You’re drunk, Mother. I’m not him.” She knows whom I’m referring to. My father’s death left my mother a shell of the person she once was. Losing her husband and knowing she’ll outlive her child will do that to a person, I suppose.
“I’m going to turn in,” she announces. It always amuses me that she speaks with an air of confidence that comes from a life of being wealthy and powerful, though she’s been anything but for the past thirty years. My mother comes from money, and looking at her, you’d think she lives in a palace, not a shitty travel trailer. Her parents gave her a choice: them or my father. She chose the latter. And now look what she has to show for it.
I think that’s why Valeen has a soft spot for her, even though they rarely see eye to eye. The one thing they do have in common is their love for my father. Despite her words, I know she loves me, too. Loves me so much she drinks to forget my fate, and the older I get, the more she imbibes.
I have the urge to comfort her—to offer words of encouragement—but I come up empty, like always. I can’t tell her it’ll be okay. I won’t tell her there’s hope, unlike Valeen.
“Valeen?” she questions.
“You go ahead. My grandson has a bone to pick with me.”
Once she’s out of earshot, I cross my arms, leaning up against the tailgate Valeen stands in front of. “You know I don’t appreciate you telling Selina my personal shit.”
Her expression is the picture of innocence. “I told her for purely selfish reasons. I wanted to see her face once she realized she had true competition.”
“There’s no competition, Valeen. Selina and I will never happen, and Evan is a friend—if you can call her that.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Why are you encouraging this?” I ask, my frustration building. Valeen knows all too well about the curse, especially considering my father was her son. “Even if it was like that with her and me, you know why that won’t work.”
She reaches up to cup my face, patting my cheek. “Every summer comes to an end. Does that mean we shouldn’t enjoy the sun?”
Speaking in riddles is Valeen’s specialty. This particular example was an easy one to decipher, but I’m not always so lucky. I look over to Evan to find her laughing at something Eros said. Her smile is bright as she shakes her head, that blonde ponytail bouncing with the movement. Her skin looks warm and tan, and I have the urge to walk over there, pull her away by the wrist, and really enjoy the sun.
But I won’t. Hooking up with a random girl I run into every year or so is one thing. Fucking someone that I have to share space with for the next couple months? That has bad news written all over it. Even without my fast-approaching expiration date.
“What did you say to her when she came to your tent?” I ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my mind.
“That’s confidential,” she admonishes, clucking her tongue at me.
“You and I both know your readings are bogus. What I don’t know is why you and Evan looked spooked after you spoke.”
“I’m no psychic, Sebastian. You know that. But I do know that things aren’t always as they seem, and nothing is written in stone.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t spit in my face and tell me it’s raining.”
“I’m simply telling you the truth.”
“What you’re doing is trying to give me false hope.”
“There’s always hope, Sebastian. You’re not dead yet.”
Yet. But I would be soon. As a kid hearing about our family’s misfortunes, it seemed like some far-off fable. Invincibility syndrome is a real thing. I knew my dad had died, along with Lathan’s and Tres’, but I was too young to remember them. I knew my grandfather died. Hell, I remember when Eros’ father died, and what he did to us beforehand. But it still didn’t seem real. Was it a curse or coincidence? Could so much tragedy really surround one family by happenstance?
By eighteen, I started to take it seriously. Cursed. Jinxed. Extremely bad luck. Whatever you want to call it. Not coincidence. By twenty, I was resigned. My father couldn’t stand not knowing, and he took his own life because of it. Same with Eros’ father, though he took it a step further. I suppose, in my father’s mind, he took control of the curse. I won’t lie and say I haven’t considered it, but I saw how my father’s suicide fucked my mom up. When I go out, I’m going to do it with as few casualties as possible.
Valeen reaches for my hand, giving it three squeezes—our code for I love you—bringing me out of my morbid thoughts. As a kid, I didn’t show much emotion, but Valeen could always sense when I needed her. It was her way of being there without the embarrassment of hearing the words spoken out loud. I give her four squeezes back. I love you, too.
I glance over to where Evan was standing just a second ago, but she’s not there. I scan the area for blond to no avail. Evan sticks out here like a sore thumb. She shouldn’t be able to blend in so easily. I make eye contact with Eros who shakes his head, answering my unspoken question. Where the fuck did she go?
The people here aren’t all bad. But most of them aren’t above taking advantage of someone whom they deem above them. They fancy themselves modern-day Robin Hoods. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Except, they are the poor, and they’re stealing for themselves. Jessup doesn’t run background checks, which attracts a lot of felons who can’t find work elsewhere. The wayward. The hopeless. The criminal. The lost. The lonely.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her. She pats my hand before dropping it and heading for her trailer.
Selina sidles up to me, once again, before I have the chance to look for Evan. I inhale deeply, summoning patience. It’s not that I enjoy being an asshole, she just makes it impossible not to be. And, okay, maybe I enjoy it a little.
“What do you want, Selina?” I ask, my voice bored. She tugs at my wrist, trying to get me to focus on her.
“Why is she here?”
“Why do you think you have the right to that information?” Selina’s not my girlfriend. Never has been. Just because I was drunk enough to let her sit on my dick one night two years ago doesn’t mean shit. And this right here, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don’t fuck where you sleep. I tried nice. Tried it for two years now. Unfortunately, nice doesn’t work with girls like Selina.
“She doesn’t belong here.”
I pin her with a bored look. “A little hypocritical, isn’t it? No one here belongs anywhere. That’s why we’re in this line of work.”
“So, what,” Selina continues, not taking the hint, “is she like your girlfriend now? Or do you have to put on a polo and take her out to dinner and a movie and get her father’s permission before asking her to go steady?”
Our family history isn’t public knowledge. Somehow, it’s managed to stay relatively unknown—with the exception of the older folks who’ve been around long enough to witness it firsthand—even with the gossipy nature of the circuit. Selina, along with everyone else, knows that I don’t date, but she doesn’t know the reasoning behind it.
Losing patience, I speak slowly and clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “What I do is none of your business. Who I fuck is none of your business, and Evan is none of your business. The sooner you can get that through your head, the better.”
“You’re an asshole, Bastian.”
“You done?” I lean back against the tailgate, crossing my ankles as I take another look for Evan.
Face red and nostrils flared, Selina storms off. She goes straight for some ride jock with a wife beater tank and a backward camouflage hat, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck before she smashes her lips to his. He spills his beer, caught off guard, before dropping the can to the ground and returning her kiss enthusiastically.
I laugh at the embarrassing display. If she thinks I’m even a little jealous, she’s more delusional than I thought. I debate on going over there and giving him a congratulatory high-five. Selina’s temper tantrum just might get him laid tonight. But instead, I slip away, knowing that she’ll look back for my reaction and find me gone. Then, maybe she’ll understand exactly how much I don’t care.
When I find Evan, she’s standing with a group of females. The burlesque girls, specifically. Interestingly enough, they seem to have taken to Evan, but I suspect they’ll feel differently toward her come morning. Carnival folk are cliquey and guarded by nature, and Selina is one of the headlining acts. Once she gets to them, Evan will no doubt be blacklisted.
Now that I know she’s not being pickpocketed or roofied, I start to turn away, right as Elliot comes up behind her, drink in hand. He taps her on the shoulder and she turns toward him, accepting his drink. I narrow my eyes, waiting to see what she’ll do. If she’ll heed my warning about trusting no one.
Elliot charms the burlesque girls, telling jokes by the sound of laughter coming from their circle. Evan smiles politely, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. And even better, she doesn’t ever take a sip from the cup he gave her. Good girl. Maybe she isn’t completely hopeless.
I don’t know why Elliot is so hell-bent on getting close to Evan, but if he’s trying to piss me off, it’s working. Not because I want her. I simply don’t trust him or his motives. He showed up a couple years ago after his mom died in a house fire, so we took pity on the guy. What can I say? I’m a real humanitarian. Most people who show up looking for jobs are loners or people who’ve lost everyth
ing, but the guy weirds me out, which says a lot with the kind of company we’re used to.
“You got it bad for the blondie, brother?” Eros asks, throwing an arm around my shoulders. I didn’t even hear him approach.
“Nah,” I say, scratching at the stubble on my neck that reminds me I need to fucking shave. “Just trying to figure out his angle.” I jerk my chin toward Elliot, who keeps finding small ways to touch her.
“His angle?” Eros laughs. “Probably ninety degrees. As in doggy style.”
I clench my jaw at the image of Elliot pounding into Evan from behind.
“Holy shit. You really are into her. I fucking knew it.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Be careful,” he warns soberly.
“Not necessary. I’ve already cut it off.”
Eros nods his approval and gives me a clap on the back. “Aren’t we supposed to be letting people know she’s with us?”
“Lead the way.”
A half an hour after making it clear to every ride jock, jointee, roustabout, and performer that Evan was with us, therefore not to be fucked with, we made our way back to our bunkhouse. Evan asked if we had running water in the trailer and immediately seemed alarmed at the prospect of not being able to have daily showers. I let her squirm for a minute, knowing she was second-guessing her decision, before informing her that we did, in fact, have running water.
Eros, Tres, Lathan, and I sat outside, talking shit and drinking beer around the fire pit for all of five minutes before the conversation turned to Evan.
“What is your problem with her? Or is it me you have the problem with?” I ask, point-blank.
“I just want to know what you’re doing with her,” Lathan says, elbows propped on bent knees as he leans forward in one of the lawn chairs.
“She needs somewhere to go for the summer. End of story.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Does she know?”
I cut my eyes at him. “Why the fuck would she know?” There’s no point. It’s none of her business. After this summer, she’ll go back to her life and be none the wiser.
Rewrite the Stars Page 11