The Hurting Circus

by Paul O'Brien

  “I’m sorry,” Lenny said.

  “Do you want to catch up? Is that it?” Kid said. “Here are the relevant points in my life: you killed someone and went to prison. Then you told your own fucking family that you wouldn’t see them anymore if they tried to visit you.”

  “I was ashamed,” Lenny said. “I was getting beat pretty badly and I didn’t want you all to see me like that. I honestly thought I was going to die in there. I wanted you to move on.”

  “Well, you got your wish. ’Cause we did,” Kid said. “Except for the times we nearly went under. We’re still trying to clear bills. Ricky and Babu had to give us money. They bailed us out. They kept us going even though their own families had no money. And where were you?”

  Lenny was stunned. “I didn’t know they helped you guys out like that.”

  “Helped us? They raised us. Still do,” Kid said.

  Lenny was totally taken aback by what he was hearing.

  “Are you my boss right now?” Kid asked.

  “No,” Lenny replied.

  “Then go.”

  “Luke.”

  “I’m serious,” Kid said as he opened his door. The wild noises from the hallway outside came parading in. “I want you to go. When the time comes, we’ll do business ’cause they tell me you’re my boss. But for now—”

  Lenny turned slowly and walked to the doorway.

  On the way home from the city, Lenny wanted to make a stop.

  He had gotten good directions, but his legs wouldn’t carry him to her grave. He wanted to say good-bye, but he might have already done that; maybe that was why he wouldn’t take another step. His mother was gone and he didn’t want to see where she had ended up. Some other day he might, but on this day, Lenny was happy just to stand at the gate of the cemetery. He said what he had to say to her from afar.

  He was done.

  As he walked through the parking a lot, he could hear the wheel of another car pulling up slowly behind him. “You ready to do some business?” asked a female voice from the car.

  Lenny turned and saw a face that was immediately familiar; he just didn’t know from where.

  “Get in,” she said.

  Then it hit him: Ade Schiller.

  She pulled in a little ahead of Lenny, opened the passenger door to her gray Mercedes-Benz two-seater, and said as he walked by, “You remember me, don’t you?”

  “I do. Nice to see you again, Ade.” Lenny didn’t know if this was a setup, if something or someone was about to blindside him, or if Ade was there to talk business. But he knew he was about to find out.

  She pulled the car up beside him again. “Ricky called me,” she said. “He said that you guys were interested in doing a deal, but maybe he was wrong?”

  “You’re not working with Tanner Blackwell, are you?” Lenny asked as he passed his father’s empty, waiting car. He didn’t want Ade or anyone else knowing what he was driving.

  Ade laughed at the notion. “I heard about what you did. You slapping that old bastard Tanner created as many friends as it did enemies,” she said. She patted the leather passenger seat for Lenny to get in.

  She was obviously older, but still beautiful. Lenny’s last memory of her was from when he had picked her up at JFK at Danno’s request.

  She parked and got out of her car. Lenny stopped too. It was a public enough place—he could see the entrance and exit clearly. Nothing seemed off enough to cause him too much anxiety.

  “I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I don’t have to wait for Ricky to get back from Japan to figure out what I want to do here.”

  “Ricky doesn’t talk for me,” Lenny said.

  “Yeah? Well, he wants my money to buy your territory,” she said, taking off her sunglasses. “How about I just give you the money, and you just walk away from all of this right now?”

  Lenny smiled. It hadn’t taken long for Ade to get to it. In a way, he admired that.

  “Well?” she asked.

  Lenny shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  “No? New York is nothing right now, you know that, right?” Ade asked.

  Lenny replied, “It’s still something, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, Tanner wouldn’t be chasing it, and Ricky wouldn’t be calling you.”

  “And Joe Lapine wouldn’t be funding it. You forgot that part,” she added.

  Lenny had no idea about Joe, but he knew enough to not let her see that.

  Ade continued, “You think I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “I’m sure you do,” Lenny said.

  Ade took out a cigarette pack, opened it, and offered Lenny a smoke across the roof of her car. He declined. She took one for herself, tapped the end of it on the pack, and lit it. “So, you’ve been to Babu’s place, slept in a bus shelter, and visited your father. Now you’re here. And you’re still not dead. What does that tell you?”

  “That you’ve been following me?” Lenny said.

  Ade laughed. “Well, not me personally. But yeah.”

  “Apart from that, I don’t know. What does it tell me?” Lenny asked.

  “That you’re safe. For now. If I can find you, then the bad guys can find you too. And you don’t want that to happen. Let me take all the heat from you.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Lenny said sarcastically.

  She took a big drag from her cigarette. “Most people in your situation would have gotten drunk and fucked a couple of whores or something after getting out. I admire that about you.”

  Lenny began to walk away.

  “You’re not thinking of staying in this business, are you?” she asked.

  Lenny shrugged as he made his way away from her.

  “It’s going to take years,” she said. Lenny stopped. She said, “To get this territory healthy again, and to get it making real money. It’s going to take years.” He turned around. “I’m just saying it, because I get the impression that you’re aiming for something quick.” She stood on her cigarette butt and walked toward him. “Even when you have the pick of the litter, it takes time to build stars, it takes time to build towns to see those stars, and it takes time for your TV to reflect that. And that’s with all the other bosses on your side.” Ade picked a pretend hair from Lenny’s shoulder. “Joe marked New York. There isn’t a wrestler in the world who is going to work with you guys. Do you think your TV is going to hold your time slot if you don’t have the wrestlers to fill it? How about the venue owners? What about the granddaddy of them all, the Garden? How long do you think they’re going to remain exclusive to you guys if you don’t have matches to go in there every month?”

  “I’ll figure all this out,” Lenny said simply. “I appreciate your time.”

  “You’re just a driver. You don’t know anything about this business. You need to act, Lenny. While it’s still safe.”

  Lenny was acting. Just like he hoped, all the players were revealing themselves.

  Lenny circled back after Ade was gone and got his father’s car. The city outside was different. The music inside on the radio was different too. It was more direct, it started with a bang that never stopped. Lenny was rocking the fuck out to “Dancing in the Dark,” cruising along 47th Avenue. He didn’t know all of the words, but that chorus—he could roar that chorus with the best of them. He beat the steering wheel in time with the drums and tried to not look like an absolute mental patient when another car was driving close by. Other than that, Lenny was on stage, and the world was singing along with him. Music was a great release, and a happy tool to help him forget—until he felt a movement behind his seat.

  Lenny froze. He thought he’d heard something earlier, but had put it down to the car being a little beaten down. This, though faint, was undeniable: someone was hiding on the floor in the back of the car. His first thought was to swerve the car into traffic; his second thought was a little less insane.

  He turned down the radio. He figured that, whoever it was, if they wanted him dead, he’d be dead by now. �
�Who’s there?” he said.

  There was no response.

  Lenny wondered for a second if he was losing his mind. “Hello?” he said. There was nothing. “I’m going to count to three, and then we’re both going headfirst into that bus!” Lenny shouted.

  “I’m sorry,” came the voice from the back.

  Lenny immediately knew the voice. “Jimmy?”

  Lenny’s younger son appeared in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry,” Jimmy repeated.

  Lenny was at first relieved, but soon became enraged. “What the fuck—” He turned right on 29th Street and parked the car under the shadows of a huge, abandoned factory. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lenny shouted. He got out of his seat, went around the back, and pulled Jimmy out of the car.

  His son was instantly ready to go: he put up his hands, prepared to fight. He looked like he was terrified, but his fists were so tight that his knuckles were white. Lenny saw himself in his boy.

  “What are you doing?” Lenny asked, trying to take his anger down a couple of notches. Jimmy didn’t answer. He was shaking a little, but he hadn’t dropped his guard.

  “Jimmy?” Lenny said, trying to get his boy to calm down too. He walked toward his son, but Jimmy unloaded with his best right hand, which missed by a mile. The fright of throwing a punch scared Jimmy even more. He then turned and ran into traffic.

  “Jimmy!” Lenny shouted, as he took after him.

  Jimmy sprinted and tried to make it to the end of the block. Lenny cut him off by grabbing his boy around the waist. Immediately, Jimmy tried to bite, scratch, and punch his father. He was wild—almost uncontrollable. “I’ll kill you!” the kid screamed over and over again.

  “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Lenny whispered into his ear as he held him tightly. He had his son wrapped securely enough in his arms that he couldn’t hurt himself. Lenny had no idea what was going on, but Jimmy was terrified, and even though there was no danger, he was fighting for his life.

  People were beginning to stare as they walked by. Lenny just sat on the edge of the sidewalk and held his shaking son. “I’m sorry,” Lenny said over and over. “I’m sorry.”

  Jimmy’s anger turned to tears and he struggled less. “You scared me,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. It’s the car. It’s seeing you in the car—” Lenny said. “I didn’t know you were there.” He began to sob. “I should have known you were in trouble. I’m sorry. I should have protected you and your brother.”

  Jimmy heard his father cry and knew that he was talking about now and before, all at the same time. They were the words of a man riddled with guilt, who had never gotten to say sorry.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Jimmy said.

  His son’s kind words only made Lenny sob harder. He released his grasp on Jimmy and hid his face in his hands.

  “I was only in the car today because I thought you were leaving. I don’t want you to go. I like having you around,” Jimmy said. His eyes filled, too, but he didn’t cry.

  Lenny laughed and wiped his eyes. “You know crying is for girls, right?”

  “You must be a big girl then,” Jimmy said as he stood up.

  “And you must be nearly a girl,” Lenny replied.

  “I’d rather be nearly a girl than a full girl,” Jimmy said.

  Lenny put his arm around his boy’s shoulder. He felt like he’d made some real connection with his youngest, but his oldest was still up for grabs.

  Babu lay in his darkened bedroom. It wasn’t particularly late, and the noise of the keys in the tray by the door let him know that there was nothing to worry about. He heard his wife’s footsteps as she walked directly to the room. She knew where he was.

  “Hey, honey,” she said as she opened the door and tried to let as little light from the hallway in as possible. She leaned in and gave her huge husband a kiss on his clammy forehead. “You’re not doing so well?” she asked.

  Babu’s tired eyes watched as she kicked off her shoes, took off her earrings, unclipped her bra under her blouse, and let it slip to the floor. She got in the bed on the little piece of mattress that was left beside Babu, and snuggled.

  She was a slight woman, and she was short, too. She had nothing to do with the wrestling business, and didn’t want anything to do with it. He had met her on a break in Hawaii, where she’d worked the bar. Babu had spent three weeks sitting in front of her. She had smiled a beautiful smile, looked tanned and relaxed and happy with life. He went there to die, though—at least he had thought so. Doctors had been telling him for years that it was only a matter of time before his body gave out on him.

  He lay there in pain, and wished that this was the night his body did give up. He was tired, constantly sore. He wasn’t half as happy, or half as spry. He found it hard to complain, though, because the closer he got to dying the more he felt loved and wanted.

  “I’m okay,” he whispered.

  She began to rub his chest and massage his huge fingers. She was used to this, and he was used to having her look after him. He was huge, and she wasn’t; he was in the wrestling business, and she wasn’t. He was dying, and she wasn’t.

  “Is it your back?” she asked.

  He could only nod.

  She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “That’s okay,” he lied. “I’m feeling better now.”

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I get you anything?” She sat up a little.

  “Can you wait just a little longer?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  His massive hand guided her head gently onto his chest. “Where does a politician go to check out books?” he asked.

  She smiled—it was joke time. “I don’t know.”

  “The lie-brary. Get it?”

  Her head rose and fell in sync with the movement of his chest as he laughed at his own joke.

  “Why did the Chinese male prostitute become a priest?” Babu couldn’t see it, but she was crying now. It was such a shame; he was such a big, strong man.

  “I don’t know,” she said, hiding her tears. “Why did he?”

  “Because he was hoe-Lee?”

  She laughed at that one; it was good. The more she laughed, the more he laughed.

  “I want to go here, when it’s my time,” Babu said.

  “Like this?” she asked.

  “Just like this,” he replied.

  Ava squeezed her husband’s huge hand. His talk wasn’t dramatic, or over-the-top; it was practical, and that was what made it all the more heartbreaking.

  “You promise?” she asked.

  “Promise,” he replied. “I will come home.”

  Lenny didn’t have any money to treat Jimmy, but that didn’t mean that Jimmy couldn’t treat them both. Babu’s ten-dollar gift bought them each a pair of new sunglasses and a candy bar. Jimmy felt cool as ice as he sat crammed in the driver’s seat between his father’s legs as they cruised slowly through the neighborhood in Edgar’s car.

  “Left a little,” Lenny said. “The key here is not to park the car on anyone’s back or head.”

  “Roger,” Jimmy said.

  “A tap more of the gas, and keep it left, here.”

  “Over and out.”

  Lenny leaned forward and checked out both sides for any signs of danger.

  “How are we doing?” Jimmy asked.

  “Coming up to Granddad’s place soon. Maybe you should pull in and let me take over.” Lenny took a quick peek in the rearview mirror. “Oh, fuck,” he said.

  Jimmy wobbled the car with fright. “What?”

  “My parole officer is behind us,” Lenny said. “What the fuck?”

  Jimmy started to panic a little. His driving became more erratic. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t think he—can you slip over, if I take a sharp right here?” Lenny asked.

  “What?”

  Lenny didn’t have time to repeat himself. He
pulled down hard on the steering wheel and pushed down on the gas, taking the car on a tight right turn. “Now jump over,” Lenny said.

  Jimmy quickly slid over from driver’s seat to the floor of the passenger side. Lenny looked behind him again, but there was no car there. They must have shaken their tail. Lenny put his foot down and took the next right, which put them behind the parole officer’s car. Lenny watched as Tad slowly freewheeled past Edgar’s house.

  “What’s he looking for?” Jimmy asked.

  “Nothing, son,” Lenny said. He parked and wondered, just as his son did, what the parole officer was looking for.

  Edgar stood in his tiny front garden, in his dirt-stained white shirt. He watched as his son and grandson came walking down the street in unison. They had a matching walk, and matching sunglasses. He would have been ecstatic, if he wasn’t plagued with the feeling that Lenny was bound to fuck it up again.

  “Lenny?” whispered Donta from the dark. “Lenny?”

  Lenny awoke suddenly to find a gloved hand over his mouth and a huge, shiny hunting knife an inch from his eyeball. “Wakey-wakey, Lenny,” Donta said as he grabbed Lenny by the hair and pulled him out of bed.

  Lenny slipped out of Donta’s grasp and slid backward along the floor into the corner of the room.

  “It’s up to you whether we wake the others in the house or not,” Donta said.

  “Who sent you?” Lenny asked.

  “Joe wants to have a talk. Are you free?” Donta replied.

  Another player coming out of the bushes.

  “Put the knife away,” Lenny said.

  Donta did just that.

  Outside, Donta opened the passenger door for Lenny and got in himself on the driver’s side. As he rode away from Edgar’s house, Lenny heard the faint voice of someone shouting behind them. Lenny turned to see his father running behind them with his shotgun in his hand. Jimmy was standing in the doorway of the house in his pajamas.

  Lenny tried to open the door to let them know he would be okay, but it was locked from the outside. Lenny pulled and pulled on the lever as Donta’s car left Edgar’s house behind.

  Donta dragged Lenny from the car and muscled him towards Joe, who was standing alone on the promenade.