Carnival (The Traveling Series #4)

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Aw, so cute!”

  “He’s in love, give him a break!”

  Dan smiled happily.

  “There’s a ton of people I’ve got to thank today—all of you lushes for showing up! Lisanne’s family for taking me in when I was just an asshole with a dream, especially Pops for telling me where to get the best baffle cores for my Harley, and Harry for . . . yeah, we’ll keep that a secret, huh, brother-in-law? Rodney, for putting up with sharing a house all through college—thank you for looking after my girl through high school, dude! I’d like to thank all the guys in 32o North, the hottest indie band in history who’ve just hit number 97 in the charts with their debut album Elephant Shoes!”

  More cheers rang out.

  “To our gorgeous bridesmaid, Kirsty, who for some reason is still hanging around with a loser like Vin Vescovi from the Saints . . .”

  Loud boos rang out as Dan named his old college buddy who now played for the Falcons’ biggest rivals, the New Orleans Saints, and Vin took an ironic bow.

  “I’d like to thank my boss, Mr. Arthur Blank, for letting me play for such an awesome team, but especially Dan Quinn, our Head Coach. And my teammates—you guys rock! Falcons for the trophy!”

  Everyone cheered and clapped. Daniel smiled as he gazed out at his friends, then paused and looked across at me.

  “My brother and I had a pretty good start in life. We had some awesome parents, Rebecca and Adam, and I wish like hell that they could be here today to celebrate, and maybe they are in spirit. I’d like to think so. Things started to get rough when I realized that I was going deaf. But this guy over here,” and he pointed at me, “my asshole brother, he took me and Mom to ASL classes twice a week for two years, never missing a single one.”

  And he signed, Love you, fucker!

  I laughed and signed back, Save it for your wife!

  “He looked out for me when Mom and Dad died. It was a bad time, but he was always there for me. He had some dark times, too, but he never stopped caring.”

  And then he turned to Lisanne.

  “But most of all, I’d like to thank my beautiful wife, Lisanne Maclaine Colton, for lowering her standards and agreeing to marry me. You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet, baby doll. I love you.”

  Applause and cheers rang out as he leapt off the stage and swept Lisanne into a Hollywood kiss, making her laugh and blush.

  “You fucker,” I muttered to his face as I walked past. “How the fuck am I supposed to follow that?”

  Dan just winked at me and grinned broadly.

  I stood on the stage, gazing out at the sea of people in front of me. I’d had a speech all worked out in my head, but now my words had deserted me. I searched the room until I found Sara. She smiled up at me, and somehow I knew what I wanted to say.

  “Dan has been a pain in my ass from the day he was born.”

  People started laughing and I saw Lisanne’s grandmother choke on her Brandy Alexander.

  “He shared my bedroom, played with my toys, and Mom used to make me take him along when I went to my friend’s slip-and-slide every summer. When he was ten, he started hitting on my girlfriends, and yes he embarrassed himself as much as you’d imagine. I don’t think Gloria Estancia ever recovered from you trying to play tonsil hockey with her, brother! You’ve gotta let a chick breathe, you know what I’m saying?” I took a deep breath as guests laughed and drank an ironic toast. “When the doctors told Dan that he was going deaf and that it would be permanent, it was a difficult time for all of us. The kid was an amazing musician. No one could play guitar like Dan.”

  The room fell silent.

  “His dreams were stolen. So how does a fourteen year old kid come back from that? By being strong, by finding new dreams. So yeah, I took him to sign language classes because I respected the hell out of him. And if he couldn’t be a musician, maybe he could be a jock, and we spent a lot of hours in the backyard tossing a ball. I guess it worked out okay for him.”

  A few people laughed.

  “The poor kid had tragic taste in women, so I’m really thankful that he finally came to his senses—either that or Lisanne felt sorry enough for him to take him. You’re an amazing woman, Lis, and I’m really happy that you married my little brother. Welcome to the family.”

  She raised her glass and blew me a kiss.

  “As an older brother, I was supposed to be the smart one, but I’ve learned so much more from Dan. About what a man should be and how he should treat the people that he loves. He’s taught me not to give up when times are tough—and he’s taught me that Calvin Klein underwear really do make your package look bigger.”

  Asshole, Dan signed at me.

  “So, ladies and gentleman, please raise your glasses in a toast to Dan and his gorgeous, if lacking-in-judgement, new wife, Lisanne. Ladies and gentleman: Danisanne!”

  Everyone raised their glasses and the band started playing Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars. I caught Dan’s confused glance and then saw Lisanne mouth the name of the song for him. Joy and sadness ached in my heart as I thought of the journey they still had ahead of them. For all of us.

  I jumped down from the stage, intending to make an indecent proposal to Sara, when a man in a sharp-looking suit tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Hello, Zef. It’s good to see you again. Great speech! Seymour Michaels, No Limit Films, as I’m sure you remember.”

  He held out his hand, but I just stared at him, a frown on my face.

  “Yeah, I remember you. How exactly did you get yourself invited to my little brother’s wedding?”

  He gave a self-deprecating smile.

  “I’m working with Arthur Blank, the Falcons’ owner, on a documentary about the team . . . and their new superstar quarterback.”

  “Figures,” I sighed.

  Dan had been desperate not to have any business people at his wedding, people who weren’t friends, but it looked like a few hangers-on had slipped through the system.

  “The Daredevils are doing well,” Michaels said, following me as I pushed past the guests who were dancing and drinking. “I’m glad to see that Kestrel made a full recovery from his injuries.”

  “Are you?” I turned, asking him sharply. “Because I seem to remember that when Aimee came to you for help, you wouldn’t lift a damn finger.”

  He frowned, as if my comment was a surprise to him.

  “Of course I was sorry about his terrible accident, we all were. But I wasn’t in a position to help him financially.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “You seem to think the streets of Hollywood are paved with gold, Zef, but financing productions is getting harder all the time; choices are becoming safer. That’s why you see so many sequels, prequels and remakes. I have to damn near remortgage my home to get the leverage every time I make a new movie. My wife has sleepless nights praying I’ll be able to pay it off.”

  “Yeah, whatever, man,” I shrugged, not wanting to get in a fight with him.

  “Anyway,” he said, forcing a smile, “I actually wanted to talk with the documentary filmmaker that you’ve been working with. Miss Hawkins was kind enough to tell me that KTM is sponsoring you and have some exciting plans. I hear that Sara Weiss is very talented.” He leaned closer. “I’m always interested in new talent.”

  I stared at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. On the other side of the room, Tera winked at me and raised her glass of champagne.

  “I’ll introduce you,” I grinned, and I walked over to Sara who was still discussing baby bumps with Aimee, and the difficulty of trying to find jeans that fit. “Hey, ladies, sorry for the interruption. Aimee, I’m sure you’ll remember meeting Seymour Michaels,” and I raised my eyebrows as she gave him a cold look.

  “Seymour,” she intoned, ice dripping from her voice.

  He ignored her tone and leaned in for an air kiss, choosing not to notice her cringe.

  “Mrs. Donohue,” the pleasure is all mine.

  “And this i
s Miss Sara Weiss, our documentary filmmaker who’s working with Tera Hawkins on publicity.”

  Sara looked as confused as Michaels; he just hid it better.

  He scanned her quickly, assessing her age and the bump, then glancing back at me.

  “A great pleasure, Miss Weiss. I’m a huge fan of your work.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, very much indeed. I was talking with Carrie Christie, the KTM Marketing Manager. She’s a huge fan of yours, too.”

  “Um, thank you very much. That’s really nice of you.”

  “We have so much to talk about, Miss Weiss. Or may I call you Sara?”

  He took her elbow as if he was about to lead her away, but I clamped an arm around her waist.

  “You can call her Miss Weiss.”

  “Zef!” Sara hissed, her cheeks glowing red.

  Michaels was too smooth to be put off his stride by my rudeness and he just laughed.

  “Ah, like that, is it? I see. And who could blame you, Zef. She’s lovely.”

  “What’s the pitch, Michaels? Make it quick because we want to get back to enjoying my brother’s wedding.”

  “Of course. Simply, I’d like No Limits to co-produce a film about the Daredevils, but not just another stunt movie. No, what I love about your work, Miss Weiss, is your ability to get inside carnival life itself. It’s such a unique world, movie-goers will love it as much as motorsport fans. Naturally, I can understand now why you had such unusual access, but that’s what will make it even more personal.”

  “What are you offering?” I asked as Sara stared, open mouthed.

  “Better equipment, a professional top-line editor, marketing expertise and distribution,” he said with a smile.

  I nodded and pocketed the business card he gave me.

  “Zachary Wade is her agent. We’ll pass it on.”

  “Marvelous,” he said. “And please pass on my felicitations to your brother.”

  He walked away appearing very pleased with himself.

  “What just happened?” Sara asked, utterly bewildered.

  Aimee laughed.

  “I think you just got invited to make a movie in Hollywood.”

  When Dan and Lisanne left using his boss’s private limo, the party went on for a few more hours. But Sara was tired and I was happy enough to leave with her.

  The whole evening had been fantastic, and Dan had even eased up enough to welcome Sara to the family, although I suspected that might have been more because of Lisanne’s insistence.

  Sara was excited about Michaels’ offer. I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I didn’t trust the guy. I hadn’t forgotten that he’d made promises to Kes before he smashed up his back, and I hadn’t forgiven him for not helping at the time. His explanation of why he hadn’t—yeah, I wasn’t going to take him at his word.

  Kes had blanked the guy so that had made an interesting conversation. But Kes was also smart enough to know that this could be a big deal for the Daredevils as well as for Sara. We had something that Michaels wanted—no need to roll over on our backs with our legs in the air.

  Zach assured us that he’d get some more details from his contact at KTM, and Tera said that she’d look into how similar co-production set-ups had worked.

  Even exhausted, Sara was high as a kite and I wasn’t going to take that away from her.

  We decided to walk the short distance back to the hotel and enjoy the cooler night air. It was way too late to take a ride on the SkyView, but we enjoyed strolling along the streets and gazing up at the giant Ferris wheel.

  It was strange how the symbol of the traveling carnival had become such a feature of cities all over the world. People still wanted that slice of magic, even though traveling fairs were being corralled into permanent locations: it gave me hope.

  We’d left the party a few minutes ahead of the others, wanting some alone time. Big mistake.

  The attack came out of the blue.

  One minute, I was walking down the street with my girl, still in my tux and her in a silk dress that clung to curves, every single one of them, and the next minute I was yanked backwards into a dark alley, face to face with Roy’s cyclops grin as his fist made contact with my jaw.

  “You haven’t got your tame midget to save you this time, Colton!”

  I crashed against the wall, wondering if my teeth were still in my mouth.

  I kept moving, reeling further than I needed to, letting him think that I was off balance when really I was just getting distance between him and his goons—three of them lurking in the gloom.

  I’d warned Dan about Roy at the pre-season game, then I’d let my own guard down because the club had seemed so safe and all the vibes were good. I was furious with myself.

  A spark of fear ignited the terror latent inside me when I saw one of the goons slip out of the alley and grab Sara, trying to hustle her toward a parked van.

  “Sara!”

  She let out a shriek that could wake the dead, kicking his shins with her high heels and generally making herself noticeable. Smart and brave—that’s my gal!

  I saw all that in a split second, my mind falling into the intense focus that I used for my stunts, when time slowed down and let me see the outcome of a jump before I’d landed it.

  And Roy’s ambush had a major flaw: yes, it was a dark alley where no one would see us, but he was 6’ 4” and weighed 300 pounds—it didn’t leave him much room to maneuver.

  I let his punch drop me to my knees, then I launched a foot sweep that knocked his legs out from under him, hearing a satisfying crack as his ACL snapped. Justice or irony? I didn’t care. When he slammed into the sidewalk like a giant redwood that had been felled, I could have sworn I felt the ground shake.

  He was sprawling backwards, half in, half out of the alley. People were stopping to stare, a few pulling out cell phones, but whether that was to film the action or to call the cops, I wouldn’t want to bet. So I made it real clear for them as I stepped over Roy, grinding my heel into his ugly face as I went.

  “Dial 911! Call the police! Sara, hold on, baby! Hold on!”

  I didn’t know if anyone was listening, but Sara’s screams were muffled now as the goon pressed his hand over her mouth. I could see her wide, frightened eyes, and people were yelling at him to put her down, but too afraid to directly intervene.

  Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw goon number two lunge at me, the glint of a knife flashing under the neon streetlight. I stepped backwards, sucking in my belly and saluting my tailor as the knife caught in the lightweight wool.

  He tugged it free, swearing as he shred my jacket. Moving quickly, needing to put him down and get to Sara, I caught my arm around his throat and ran his head right into the brick wall of the alley—quick ‘n’ dirty.

  I heard footsteps pounding up behind me, but it wasn’t the police who came to help: it was my brothers.

  Sprinting along the street, still in their tuxes, Kes, Luke, Zach and Tucker piled in. And then I saw two huge football players hurtling along behind them.

  Roy should have waited until he’d caught me completely alone, but he’d gotten impatient, and he’d gotten sloppy.

  A fourth goon who’d been sidelined at the back of the alley tried to make a break for it, but Kes was after him like a wolf, loping behind him and bringing his prey down swiftly.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  I hurled myself at Sara’s attacker, vaguely aware that he was screeching in a high-pitched voice. She gave his balls another twist and ducked out of the way as I grabbed his arm and wrenched it up his back.

  Sirens were wailing and people were shouting; the two footballers were sitting on Roy as he thrashed around, swearing a blue streak, blood dribbling from his nose where I’d smashed his nose.

  I was half expecting to be arrested along with Roy and his henchmen, not having the best relationship with American’s finest, but when the guys on your side are two of the most famous running backs in the history of Georg
ia state football, it’s definitely a bonus.

  Sara threw herself into my arms, shocked but furious instead of fearful.

  She was shaking, from the adrenaline, I thought.

  “Is it over now? Roy, is it over? Because I can’t risk Peanut getting hurt . . .”

  I pulled her closer.

  “He can’t touch you. He’s going down for a long time. It’s going to be okay, Sara. We’ll be okay.”

  She seemed to throw off the shock quickly, although I knew that could sneak up on you in the quiet of the night. That would come later, but for now she was loud and voluble, talking the ears off a police officer who was trying to take some details.

  Roy and his fucktards were bleeding all over the sidewalk and Kes dragged the man he’d caught, his arm wrapped around the fucker’s throat.

  My jaw was sore and I thought Roy had loosened a couple of teeth, but the worst damage was to my jacket which hung in ribbons. I was annoyed about that—Sara said it looked hot on me.

  We were at the police station for less than half-an-hour before the Falcons’ management sent a high-priced lawyer to look after their investment, and by default, me and the others. Another forty minutes after that, and the news was that Roy and the our attackers would be charged with everything from attempted abduction to aggravated assault, with no chance of bail.

  Not bad for a night’s work. Not bad for years of looking over my shoulder.

  We were free to go.

  I slept for most of the five-hour flight back to LAX and woke up stiff and sore, but happy to have Sara’s head on my shoulder, happy to be heading home.

  Seeing Dan get married had felt great, but seeing Roy laying on the ground and then being arrested was almost as satisfying. I hadn’t realized how much thoughts of him had haunted me over the last seven years.

  But the real kicker was that the moneyman behind Roy, Savannah’s very own Mr. Big, had hung him out to dry. The police had let us know that the usual high-priced lawyer who represented the city’s dirt-bags had refused to take Roy’s calls.