A Fear of Clowns (The Greasepaint Chronicals)

by Power, P. S.

  Jason nodded, his face not turning into a smile. In show biz circles that was the kind of thing that could lead to hard feelings, he knew. A bit of petty backstabbing and undermining could go a long way, and grudges, despite what Max had just said, were held, more often than not. People weren't perfect that way. Especially show people.

  "I'll live. She's got a good act, and I think the audience likes the extra variety. I'm in though. Let's get together and go over the weekend stuff, early tomorrow?"

  "Great, ten o'clock, in my office?"

  "I'll be there."

  The next week went an awful lot like he would have expected if Jay had considered it all first. What with the new acts having problems, most of which were just timing issues, because every change in life had that kind of thing, or personality conflicts that needed to be smoothed over. One of them, part of a juggling act, showed up drunk on Saturday, which meant that Joey had to go on in their place. He was too sloshed to be throwing fire and knives around, and everyone knew it, except the man himself. That didn't go over well, but Max didn't fire them for it, just calling the man out for not being ready to work. He even repeated what he'd said about performers being there for each other, if only to Jay. It was like he wanted to really make sure he got it.

  The guy, Steve, did manage to hold things together the next day, so his wife and brother weren't left without a job because of him. The other problem there was that she, Sandra, was sleeping with the other guy too, and not in an agreed upon fashion. They didn't have some kind of weird three person marriage. It was just cheating. That was something that could blow up on them, but wasn't his business. As long as it didn't affect the show. It left him feeling edgy and upset anyway, being too close to some of the things that he'd dealt with in life. At least Carl hadn't been his brother. Poor Steve.

  The days were all different, but a pattern emerged, with him hitting the main floor to meet and greet early each day, dressed in various bright costumes that tended to both draw the eye and leave people feeling a bit wary of him at the same time, and then introducing people for the evening shows, taking one half hour set every other night. It meant working up new material, since repeating himself seemed like cheating, even if almost everyone else did it.

  It wasn't until a full two weeks later that he finally got some time off. Max felt like things were stable enough, and wanted to get some time himself, eventually, which he could do now that he had Jay. He sent his employee first, passing over a nice fat envelope before he left. Actually it was pretty thin, having a check in it, but the thing was for enough money that he could afford to move, and even survive for a few months, if he wasn't picky about his new digs. Things were finally looking up.

  His little bug, which had been sitting for weeks on end, never moving at all, needed to be jumped before it would start. He took that in stride, and decided to actually splurge and have a mechanic look at it, before he went back to see Carlos and Wendy. It needed it and spending a few hundred dollars now would beat being stuck in the desert, halfway home.

  To his old home, he hoped. Not that he wanted to leave his safety net behind. It was time though. Time for him to rejoin the adult world of the employed and sensible.

  He picked a small shop that was the first one he passed. There were no glowing signs or shiny anything, but that left him feeling better about it. If they weren't cheating people, they might not have extra funds for things like that.

  The mechanic seemed quiet, and understood what he wanted, suggesting new tires first, then putting the whole thing on the lift. The belts needed to be done, but they had all of that, or could get it for him in town, inside about an hour. It wasn't until the man crawled underneath that his tone changed.

  "Um... You might want to take a look at this." Mike, which is what his shirt claimed his name was, scooted over on his roller board, as Jay got down to look where he pointed.

  At first, expecting it to be some form of bee hive or wasp nest, or even a snake, he didn't recognize what the man meant. Until he pointed directly at it. The thing was small, about the size of a pack of playing cards, and gray. It had a single antenna sticking out of it too. All in rubber coated black.

  "A tracking device?" Jason knew he sounded incredulous.

  "Looks like. What did you do?"

  Jason knew the answer, after a fashion. He'd married the wrong woman, that's what he'd done.

  Chapter seven

  Jason drove back to Brickston going the speed limit, exactly and with as little variation as he could possibly manage. Mike had offered to pull the thing for him, since it was just stuck on with magnets, like one of those little hidden boxes designed to carry an extra key, in case you were prone to locking yours inside the vehicle. Jay was tempted by the idea, but left it there. It took an act of will to do that, and now he felt even more watched than he had before.

  The deal there was simple though. If the Sheriff's Department had done it, and had any kind of legal warrant for it, then it was illegal for him to tamper with it, no doubt. If they didn't, well, that wouldn't keep them from claiming that his doing anything to it wasn't theft of public property. The only thing he could do was leave it in place and just try to be good. Anything else would create more problems for him. He guessed, once he'd moved full time, that he could mail it back, from well outside their jurisdiction. It was tempting to just turn around right then, since he didn't have anything he really needed left at Carlos and Wendy's, but he'd promised them that he'd be up. They didn't know that he was planning to pack all his things up right then.

  It was a surprise. Hopefully a good one. After all, getting rid of the bum that lived in your wood shed had to be a relief. Okay, so it was a nice stone shed for tools, and he was a clown, but the idea held. They didn't need him there, eating their food and messing things up.

  So he made himself drive carefully, waiting for the lights to flash behind him. That they didn't, even once he got passed the county line just left him feeling edgier, rather than not. He'd been gone for weeks, so his friends the deputies would be going into withdrawals by now. What with the lack of him being there to harass. Carl too, no doubt. His favorite target and punching bag had been out of sight for so long the man had to be feeling insecure by that time.

  The trip took hours, since he was careful, and that meant slow. The new tires left him feeling more secure, as did the fact that all the worn belts had been replaced, just to make sure nothing would break. The fluids had been changed as well, which meant the whole thing had taken hours, and he was pulling in late in the day. Near dinner time. The first thing he did was get his car settled in its spot, next to the Van, on the paved drive. Then he went directly to the main house, and had to resist knocking. It had been long enough that he didn't feel right, just walking in, but Wendy had always insisted that he should, even from the very first day.

  "Mom, dad... I'm home." He drew the words out, letting his voice lilt and become playful. It got Carlos to come from the other room, near the back. His workroom. It made some sense that he'd be in there, given they'd all been working full time for a while. They'd need to rebuild stock, and make sure they fixed any wear or degradation that the tricks and props had undergone. Jay needed to do the same, though it wasn't as pressing, since most of his things weren't perishable, like the bottles that The Great Mantooth used. Those had gone after the first few days, and the act had just done without that trick.

  "Jay! We wondered if you were going to make it today. It's only a two hour trip." He didn't seem that concerned, even when Wendy popped her head from the kitchen, her face looking slightly moist from the heat.

  He shrugged, and made a face. It was one that probably didn't seem all that upset, just annoyed.

  "I stopped and got new belts and tires, did the fluid thing. Found the official tracking unit on my car that the Sheriff left for me. All that. Then I drove the rest of the way like I had a driver's test examiner in my passenger's seat. You know how it goes. Big brother watching makes for good driving." T
his came out dryly enough that Carlos just looked at him quizzically. Wendy however frowned.

  "Wait..." She spoke a bit harshly, then cleared her throat before going on. "Did you really find that, or-"

  "For real. In the right rear wheel well. Here, I'll show you. I feel almost important or loved, really. I mean think about it, they didn't get you your own tracking unit, did they?" They all trooped out to the driveway, after Wendy took things off the stove so nothing would burn. At least that was what Jason assumed she was doing, noticing that she ran into the other room before dashing back, jogging with her legs straight, like she were being watched.

  They both crawled on the ground to have a look, but didn't touch the thing. Not after he explained his thoughts on the matter. Carlos whistled, and spoke in a low tone, as if it might just be a bug that could hear him.

  "Sweet. I knew that some people had the occasional issues with clowns, but I didn't know it would get you on the national terrorist watch list."

  Smiling, Jason nodded.

  "Part of the Clarabelle act of nineteen sixty-nine. You remember, the one about preventing the spread of clowns, mimes or other makeup bearing creatures?" It was a reference to an old television show, and he wasn't certain that either of the others would have ever heard of Howdy-Doody, but both smiled.

  He'd come across the program during his research into his new profession. That part would probably have seemed strange to most people, but it was the kind of thing he did. Carlos had suggested being a clown, so instead of simply learning a few tricks and slapping some greasepaint on his chin, Jay had spent weeks going over everything he could find out about the topic. It was why he'd picked the working name of Joey. Clowns were called that sometimes, particularly in circus circles, because the original clown, the first one credited with white face and a big lace collar, was named Joseph Grimaldi.

  So, Joey the Clown had been created.

  They all went in, not talking, knowing what the real reason for the tracking device was. Harassment. The Sheriff was a creep that couldn't stand...

  That part still eluded Jay's understanding. What had he done to the man that would cause him to keep coming at him like that? Telling people about what Carl had done? It might have been a small problem, but nothing had come of it. Not really. The only person hurt in the whole thing had been him. Maybe Alex. She was at least as innocent in the whole thing. Carl and Lynn had both not only been guilty, but other than the loss of a free meal ticket, him going away hadn't harmed either of them.

  So it didn't really make any sense. Not years later. Even if Carl had been left fighting for his marriage, he'd won on that score. His job had been left intact and everything. It was like the man just couldn't stand the idea of anyone escaping from under his thumb.

  Too bad, if that was the plan. Jay was just about gone. Gainfully employed, and about ready to start a new life.

  He didn't mention that, just going in and helping Wendy in the kitchen. She was getting dinner ready for them all. It didn't take a lot of work on his part, so he made the salad. Wendy was a vegetarian, and included veggies at every meal. It made for strange breakfasts at times, but helped her keep such a trim figure. She needed to do that, since her job required it of her.

  Forty minutes later they were settled at the dinner table, like they normally did in the evenings when the other two were in town. It was homey and polite, since they ate together, like a family might have.

  Carlos didn't insist that they pray or anything, but always bowed his own head first, and mumbled to himself. Always. Even at restaurants. It made for an interesting show, when he was in public and did that in full regalia, complete with cape and tux. Wendy didn't, not even at home, but she sat respectfully, so Jason had always done the same.

  God wasn't real, but he didn't care if his friend had a buddy that he couldn't see. It was a tradition, and if it left him feeling better about life, or gave him hope, then Jay wasn't going to try and steal that from him. Doing that would be cruel, as well as annoying. People that believed in God knew that it wasn't real after all. They chose to pretend, because it made them feel better. The smart ones had to be doing that at least. Except that Jason knew that wasn't true.

  The capacity of the human mind to fool itself was vast, and underselling it could cause problems. Plus, he could be wrong. It wasn't likely on that score, but it wasn't impossible. What if God simply hated him for some reason? It might explain a few things about his life.

  Wendy took a bite of green leaves, which had nothing on them at all, and spoke after she got it down. Jay marveled a bit at her ability to not only eat plants like that, but seem to enjoy it.

  "So, Jay, among the employed now! We really thought that Max was bringing you on part time. This is an improvement. Good for him. He needs the help." She ate more then, since plain salad as a main portion of her meal meant that she had to tuck away a lot of it. It just wasn't calorie dense enough otherwise.

  Carlos looked at him and smiled.

  "That's the truth, isn't it? I still can't believe what he did with Felicity. I mean, I can, it isn't like it never happens, but I thought that he was better than that. He hasn't... given her any more problems?" There was real concern in his voice about it and Wendy looked at Jason closely, as if trying to read his face for signs.

  "No. At least I'm trying to keep on top of that. She works with me a few days a week, passing out coupons. I have her wearing a fairy costume. People love it. Everyone loves Tinkerbelle. My part is the hard sell. Still, even if people find me scary, it works for them, most of the time. Disconcerting, but they know that a clown won't just be hanging out, so it marks me as working there." Jay ate too, for a bit, and then nodded, having his salad plain, like the others did. "Max has been good though. He hasn't even tried to fire me for hitting him. I keep waiting for that shoe to drop, but really, it's like he doesn't even care about that."

  It was weird, and really had worried him, but Wendy made a face and then put her fork down on the edge of her plate, delicately.

  "You're kidding, right? He probably get's punched six times a year by various people. Normally without half as good a reason. In that kind of job you have to learn to suck things like that up. It will happen to you eventually, too. Some drunk, or one of your performers high on something will take a swing or two. If you go to the police every time you get a bruise no one will work with you. The same goes for Max. Besides, from what Carlos said, you had a good reason. I can't believe that Max would try to use his position to force someone that young to be his girlfriend." Her voice was sincere, and she took another bite, as if what she'd just said wasn't totally missing the point. If Max had really been going after an honest relationship, Jay wouldn't have hit him.

  He was about to correct her when Carlos looked up from his own plate, his eyes a little sad. That was all. It was enough for Jay to get it. He hadn't told her about what had really happened. Probably not about him hitting the man too. It made Jason seem like a bit of a hothead, but so did what really happened, so he let it slide. It was pretty clear that his buddy was protecting someone by lying about it all. Probably Max, actually. Wendy might not be an Amazon warrior, but she could spread rumors with the best of them, and that would hurt business. His, as the case would have it, since his fortunes were tied to Max pretty solidly for the moment. They'd also promised Felicity that they'd never mention what had happened to anyone, so word wouldn't get around. It could simply be that Carlos was taking that very seriously. It was a real enough point.

  "Yeah. That was low of him. I'm keeping an eye out for her. For everyone I can." It made sense, after a fashion. It wasn't like a family, but things worked better when you tried to be there for other people. It was still hard for him to trust anyone, after Lynn, but that didn't mean it wasn't the better way to be. Or that the people he helped were actually worthy of his efforts. The problem hadn't been that she'd been evil though. Not really. If she'd started out that way, seeming bad, he never would have trusted her. The difficulty
was that she'd seemed so normal the whole time. They hadn't had a perfect marriage, but their problems had seemed like the kind of things that everyone had issues with. Who was supposed to take the garbage out, or watch Alex. Now it was clear that she'd dumped a lot of that on him, but at the time he hadn't thought much of it. He was just doing his part to be a good husband.

  That's why it hurt so much now, and made him wary about everyone else in the world. If she'd been faking their entire life, and had never loved him, despite what she'd said, then who else was?

  He got a grateful look from Carlos, and Wendy nodded at Jay, not really paying attention to the interplay. Most people didn't. He'd learned to, on the street. Reading faces was important when you didn't have resources. You learned who you could approach for a handout, and who was going to yell at you, or even attack.

  The topic shifted, thankfully, to other things. Finally, as they nearly finished with the meal, Jay smiled.

  "So, I was thinking that I'd clear out of your shed, finally. Get the lawn gear back where it belongs. I really want to thank you both, for putting me up all this time. I'd probably still be on the street, if not for the two of you."

  They both looked at each other, and then at him, with Carlos biting his lips a bit. His hairless face lined around the eyes.

  "We... Hadn't thought about that. I guess we both assumed you'd just be staying. Are you planning to get a place here in town?"

  Smiling, he shook his head.

  "Nope. The Sheriff here wants me gone, it's pretty clear. I need to get out of the county at the very least. I've been looking at some places in Vegas, or around it really. For the time being I can just stay at the Placemont. It means picking up extra shifts, probably, being there all the time, but I've been on sabbatical long enough not to mind too much. I really should have left a long time ago, even if I didn't have the funds for it. This place, Brickston, reminds me of what happened. I wasn't dwelling on it like this back in the city." He really hadn't been. It had come to mind, a few times, but not like it did here.