“Is this some sort of joke?” Gary stood up, angered now.
“Do I look like I’m joking to you, Mr. Peck?” The man stepped directly under one of the spotlights overhead as he came forward and revealed the rest of his face. The dark blue triangles above and below his eyes, the small red dot on the tip of his nose, dimples painted above a broad painted grin, the eyes Gary had seen before, that looked as cold and murderous as the steel on a knife. The smile was gone from his mouth, his lips peeled back in a snarl of clenched teeth. “Do I look at all like I’m joking?”
“You’re kidding, right?” There was a tremor in his tone this time, a revelation of the growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
“The girl. Tell me everything you know about her.” It wasn’t a request.
“I barely even knew her.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Look, why don’t you get your stupid clown face out of here before I call security?”
“Well you could, but the security guards are in a meeting right now. Orientation time for the new guys. It could be a while before you get a response.” The smile started creeping back. “And because there’s a cast party being held over at the Hilton; time to interview all the dancers and jugglers, even the acrobats.” The man tossed something in the air that flipped and wheeled in an arc. He caught it with his other hand threw it back in the air, only now there were two somethings. Both moving too fast to be clearly identified. Another toss and there were three. After that they simply moved through the air with the skill of a long time juggler. “I’m not part of the cast for this little show. I wasn’t invited.”
He’d forgotten all about the casting party. His stomach dropped a bit as he thought about it. He was supposed to be there, but he’d lost track of the time.
“I have to leave.”
“You were invited, weren’t you, Mr. Peck?”
“That’s why I have to leave. Maybe you can catch me later and we can discuss the girl you want to know about.”
Three hard rubber balls flew toward him, one after the other, and slammed into Gary’s face, his left shoulder and his solar plexus. The first one struck above his right eyebrow and staggered him back as easily as a haymaker from Muhammed Ali. The second reduced his left arm to a numb, useless lump of meat. The third knocked the wind from him and Gary stumbled before crashing back to the concrete floors.
“Poor Gary. Finally invited to a party and he forgot to attend…”
The clown stepped closer as Gary tried to gather his wits and stand back up. The shoe on his foot was old and scuffed, with heavy treads. The man brought it down and stomped Gary’s fingers hard enough to break the nail and bone of the index and middle digits.
Gary let out a scream that was little more than a gasp as the pain washed through him.
“Too late for parties, Mr. Peck. Tell me everything you know about the girl, before I have to start getting inventive.”
Gary looked into the face above him and started talking.
He knew a lot more than he intended to tell the stranger. In the end he told the man everything. He’d have told the stranger anything at all to make the pain stop.
The clown got very, very inventive.
***
Tia finally started learning names around the same time she saw the cast being interviewed. She couldn’t believe how many people had come to the party. Hell, she couldn’t believe the spread of food and the free drinks.
Her body still ached from the hard session of learning routines, but it was a good pain, the sort that meant she was accomplishing something. Not just dreaming, but doing. It was a wonderful thing.
Leslie had been there right along with her, making sure she learned every step and being as patient as a saint while she was at it. She’d heard stories about how catty performers could be, and she wasn’t naïve enough to believe the tales weren’t true, but it was nice to not deal with that in her first ever show.
The press was all abuzz with questions, most of which revolved around the disappearance and later confirmed murder of the star of the show. While there were a few photographers who wanted to take her picture, Tia knew she was not the main attraction for the night. That was Leslie, the new female lead and the only thing that seemed higher as a priority than getting as much information as they could about her, were the rumors of what might have happened to Elizabeth Montenegro.
The stories were everywhere and most of them were asinine. There were tales that she’d somehow gotten involved in the mob, and a few tall tales about her being murdered for drug money she owed. According to Mark Blake, one of the jugglers who was on stage for all of five minutes every night, the girl had been a coke fiend. Anything was possible, she supposed. As horrible as it sounded, the only thing the woman’s death meant to Tia was a chance to become a part of the show, and that was still a staggering change in her life.
There were more people moving with the show than Tia would have guessed. In addition to the main characters of the story, there were half a dozen women who dressed up as cats for the lion tamer, easily fifteen different people dressed as clowns, and a score of secondary characters to add color and flavor to the entire affair. There were several actual acrobats who performed the sort of stunts that would have made her pee herself if she even considered them, and what amounted to enough stage performers to populate a real circus. Then there were the people behind the performances, an on call doctor, two trainers, the choreographer and his assistant, a fairly large group of musicians, the stage hands, a lighting crew, and on and on. She’d never had any idea how big the Carnivale was until now and the scope was damned near staggering.
And she loved it. She might never get to know all of them, but she didn’t care. There was magic on the stage and some of it seemed to carry over into the atmosphere around her. Even dealing with a bunch of reporters and being at a party where the microphones and cameras were everywhere and practically rabid with questions, she felt energized.
She also knew she better enjoy it while she could, because later, she was supposed to go over the entire routine again.
The choreographer—and she still couldn’t remember his name to save her life—smiled in her direction and Tia smiled back.
“Sometimes dreams come true.” She was speaking to herself, but one of the reporters walking by heard her and smiled.
“I’m going to quote you on that.” He winked as he walked past and Tia laughed even as her face flushed with surprise. She had no idea anyone was listening to her as she spoke.
He kept his word. The next day there was a picture of her on the front page of the entertainment section in the Washington Post along with a quote.
From that moment on, Tia’s life went into a whirlwind of activity and a sudden plunge into the waters of celebrity.
Someone decided she was photogenic, and the quote, along with the picture of her and Leslie standing together and smiling, caught the attention of the media. Within a day, she was a media darling. Within a week, she would have her first performance on stage.
Right after Leslie had her accident.
Life on the Road: Part Four
My first time on the stage was something else. There were about ten of us dressed as clowns, and most of the others had a lot of time and practice behind their moves. Dexie the Dunce was a bumbling idiot on the floor, falling on his ass and rolling across the ground in ways that seemed impossible. Tumbles was the exact opposite, moving with insane grace as he did rolls, splits and tumbles that would have been hard for a lot of professional gymnasts. They were the two ends of the spectrum and they both got laughs like there was no tomorrow. I watched them for a few minutes before finally getting the nerve up to walk out into the ring.
Next to the rest of them I looked like a fucking amateur, which was fair, because that’s exactly what I was. Every step I took in the ring was exactly the wrong one, and half the time I wound up scrambling to get out of someone’s way. I guess it worked well enough for th
e audience, who was laughing at every move I made, but I didn’t much like it and I know the other clowns were annoyed. So, I decided to do something different. I walked out of the ring and started doing a few simple magic tricks. Listen, when it comes to the easy stuff, it’s all sleight of hand. Once you get that down, it’s just a question of what you use to keep the rubes entertained. I used a few quarters, a long runner of scarves I’d tied together before the show, and four wild roses I’d picked from the field behind where we were set up for the show.
It was better for me out of the ring, and that’s where I started staying. None of the other clowns minded at all, and a lot of the locals thought I was something pretty special, especially the girls who got the roses. You know how you pick the right girl to give a flower to when you’re a clown? Simple. You pick the one who isn’t smiling. They need them the most. My choices usually came down to the sad-faced girls or the ones who, for whatever reason, made me think of Millie.
After the first time out, it became easier to be a clown, and Halston not only liked but also encouraged my forays into the audience. I think he’d always been afraid someone would react poorly to a clown up in the stands, but it never happened on my watch. Well, once or twice, maybe, but that was later, after I died.
When we were traveling, I practiced my routines. They needed a little work, but I was already a pretty damned good escape artist. Within a month or so, I was ready for the big time as it were.
But before I could go on stage in that capacity, I had a month of time as a clown to deal with. It got comfortable very quickly, that make up. Every town we went to, big or small, started with building up the tents and stands—most of the stands were owned by individuals who took care of them alone or hired someone to help, but everyone worked on the canvas tent—and ended with a parade through the town proper to advertise our presence.
I’d always assumed people would be happy to see a circus, but that wasn’t always the case. In a surprising number of towns, people came out to cheer and to watch as we did a few tricks, but in just as many, the people who looked at the Alexander Halston Carnival of the Fantastic scowled and merely stared as if they were watching a funeral procession.
I was a little taken aback, but Carter explained it to me. “It’s the religious folk. A lot of them see us as a temptation.”
“Temptation? What? To laugh and have fun?”
“We aren’t like other people, Cecil. We live on the road and we don’t attend church regularly.”
“So because we don’t wear our Sunday best we’re bad people?”
Carter shook his head and I could see his smile even past the one he’d painted on his face. He stopped for a moment and did a spectacular series of back flips and I took the cue from him and started juggling four throwing knives I’d borrowed from Lou Hawkner, who also did a show involving sword swallowing and some amazing work with knives and moving targets. Carter was definitely more impressive.
When he was finished, we started walking again, heading down the main street of Alberta, Illinois where the cheers and jeers over our arrival were a fairly even mix.
“Okay, Cecil. I’m going to point this out, because maybe you’re not getting the whole picture. After this, we don’t talk about it. It’s something that happens, but we don’t discuss it, understood?” I nodded my agreement. “There are girls here who perform with snakes, and do exotic dances, and read fortunes and all sorts of other stuff, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Some of them make money on the side.” I stared blankly. I had no idea what he was talking abut and I said as much.
“They sell their services.” I’ll admit it; I was rather ignorant. It must have shown on my face. Carter sighed and leaned in closer. “Ten dollars on the side and the men get to fuck them.”
“You’re kidding me.”
He shrugged. “It’s how they make a living. Sometimes working on the road isn’t so easy, okay? It’s not all the girls, at least that I know of, but it’s what they do to make ends meet.”
“So people get upset with them for it?”
“People always get upset when a woman sells herself. You have the men, who buy it, deny it and condemn it as the devil’s work. You have the women, who are angry because their husbands are sneaking off to be with strange women, and you have the losers who look at any girl with a nice rack and take it for granted she’s there to spread around discontent and maybe herpes.”
I shook my head. I’d barely met any of the girls on the tour with me, except as a nodding acquaintance. I wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man. Frankly, they scared the hell out of me. I never knew what to say or do, so I avoided the situation when I could. Still, I couldn’t imagine any of them selling themselves. Well, actually I’d had a few fantasies about one or two of them and didn’t much take to the idea that any man could have them for the right money. It went against the way I was raised.
“Don’t be that way.”
“What way?”
“You’re being a rube.” Carter’s voice was soft.
“What’s a rube?”
“Someone who doesn’t understand the circus. A mark, a shill, a rube. Someone who comes in all smiles and happy, and leaves the circus just as happy but a lot poorer.”
“I don’t get it.”
“They leave poorer because they’re naïve, Cecil. They come in thinking the world is black and white, and it isn’t.” He stopped talking again and we both went into our routines. There was a certain rhythm to it and I was gradually picking up on it. The people on the street stared at us and a lot of them were smiling, delighted by the distraction from the tedium of the day. “You’re an escape artist. You’re also a clown when you have to be. Miriam the snake charmer is a snake charmer and a dancer; she’s also a whore when she needs to be. It’s the way it’s done and the way it’s always been done. That doesn’t make Miriam any different than when she’s being a snake charmer.”
He’d pointed out Miriam because he knew I already knew her. We’d talked a few times and somehow got stuck working together on putting up the tent. She was a nice lady, maybe ten years older than me, who was pretty when she was helping pitch the tent and absolutely beautiful when she was fully made up. Yes, I’d had a few thoughts about her, even knowing that she was much older, but I’d have never considered doing anything about them. When I was around her she was just Jane Hanover, from Massachusetts and when she was working she was a different woman entirely.
I nodded my head and gave thought to what he’d told me. We were all out there to make a living and so far, the pay hadn’t been spectacular. I could see where a woman might be tempted to do whatever it took to make ends meet and to set some aside for the future.
I could also see where it would cause problems in some towns. Chicago might have been tolerant of prostitution, but the farm area where I was raised? They’d have driven anyone guilty of that sort of activity out of town in an instant and half of them would have been quoting the Good Book along the way.
Sometime later, when we were back in the field we’d rented for the circus, the atmosphere was different. Most of the people who showed up were glad to have a chance to spend a little money and have a night out. I suppose the only entertainment otherwise was the cinema I saw in the town proper, and the movie they were playing there had been out on screens for a long while. The people came in droves, and I did my part to entertain them.
The weather made it a little harder to do, however. There were violent storms in the area and the winds were enough to make the walls of the tent rattle and snap like the sails on an old wooden ship.
Because the weather was so bad, several of the sideshows were moved under the big tent, shoved into corners and placed wherever they could fit. A few of the others were forced to stay outside, and in most cases they went ahead and closed up.
I saw the freak show for the first time that night. I’d known it was there, and I’d seen a few of the attractions as they walked along and ate, but I’d onl
y been with the carnival for a few days and I still hadn’t met everyone.
The freak show was in a smaller tent, jet black, and oddly intimidating in the middle of the light and splendor. Admittance was only permitted to adults or kids who had supervision. Even then, there were parts where anyone under age was forbidden access.
I spent my off time—between the main attractions in the center ring handling their performances—near the entrance to the freak show. My curiosity had gotten the better of me and I wanted to see the wonders that the signs proclaimed. I wanted to see the Succubus and the Hound of Hell. I wanted to know exactly what the Amazing Snake Man looked like, and what made the Ape Man of Darkest Africa so special. It was simple curiosity, of course. I’d lived a very mundane life and even after seeing some of the more unusual specimens out in the open, there were plenty I had not had the chance to observe.
Curiosity has always been one of my biggest flaws, or greatest assets, depending on whom you ask.
After my seventh time hanging around the outside of the tent, the man who ran it—his name was Ames, I believe, but it’s been a long time—smiled at me and gestured for me to come closer. “Listen, kid, you work here. So no charge if you want to go through, just always ask first, okay?”
I thanked him and he nodded his head. The lion tamer was on stage and would be for a while, so I slipped inside with Ames’s blessing. I walked from the world I knew into a place of terrible magics.
Chapter Five: Looking for Millie (Part Five)
Riding down the highway in a car beat the hell out of taking the bus, so when I was finished with the boys, the car came with me. Oh, I’m not quite dumb enough to think it wouldn’t be reported, but there were a few hours at least before that became a serious problem. I’d stashed the bodies in the trunk, and I knew enough to understand that the world hadn’t changed completely in the fifty years since my death. Kids still broke curfew and their parents still let them.
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