by Gwenda Bond
To make this relationship one true thing . . . if I could.
A few minutes later, the crowd erupted into sustained applause, which meant Dez was finishing up. A fact confirmed by Brandon descending the set of steps that led down from backstage a few minutes later. “Sorry, cutie. He gave you the slip.”
“What?”
“He went off into the crowd, signed a few autographs, and bolted. Must’ve known you’d head back here.”
“Where can I find him?” I asked.
“Nowhere tonight. He’ll let you find him when he wants to be found.”
Argh. Boys were maddening.
I pressed Brandon. “Is that guy gone? Dez isn’t going after him, is he?”
He hesitated. “He’s gone. And Dez wouldn’t go after him without me.”
That was a relief, at least. “What happened?”
Brandon tilted his head back and stared up at the starless black sky. We were alone, so there was no reason for him not to answer. Then he said, “He’s my brother. You’re not.”
“You two are brothers?”
Brandon looked back at me and snorted. “No, but we might as well be. And that means you need to leave it alone.”
“So you’re not going to help me. Do you have the phone tonight, or does he?”
He shrugged. “He does, and now I have to go clear the stage. Leave him be tonight, ’kay?”
I didn’t bother answering. He headed up the stairs again, and I was already tapping out a text message to Dez: We don’t have to talk about why you have a black eye if you don’t want to, but I want to see you.
I waited a long minute, staring at the screen, willing him to respond. Nothing.
So I added: I care about you. ♥
That did get a response: Your mistake.
I tried a couple of times more: Tell me where you are. I’ll come meet you.
Brandon returned with a duffel bag, undoubtedly full of knives. “Just leave him be. No one wants to see their girl when they just got beat down. He’s got bigger things to think about tonight.”
After waiting longer than I should have, I gave up and went to bed, deciding I’d track him down tomorrow. I just hoped he was okay when I did.
He dodged me the whole next day. Didn’t respond to the texts I sent. And then he didn’t show up to be my assistant. Raleigh loaned me his, and I had to admit she did an excellent job.
But Raleigh had made it clear she couldn’t do it permanently.
I could find another person to fill in as my assistant, no question there. But I wasn’t willing to give up on Dez. Despite his managing to dodge me after his act again, twice. He wasn’t going to escape from this escape artist so easily.
Nonetheless, locating Dez was proving far more difficult than it should have been. He was a no-show at the dinner mess. And I had no idea where he slept—something that should have occurred to me before now. He’d always come to me, and I’d never thought to wonder.
I waited until after the evening’s last show and wandered around the Cirque grounds through a relatively sedate night, looking for the fire-pit-slash-party edge of camp. My best bet to find him.
A few people had their RV doors open or sat outside in clustered camp chairs, drinking together. I searched each mini-gathering I passed for a familiar grin. Finally, I found one—if not the one I was looking for.
Brandon was at a card table set up for a poker game along the edge of the grounds. The only places that I hadn’t checked yet were the province of the big trucks and equipment haulers arrayed behind the poker game. The table was a mix of workingmen and a few people I recognized from the Cirque performer families. The Garcias’ quiet father was there. I was relieved to see that Dez’s family friend wasn’t.
I didn’t want to interrupt, but I had little choice. I tried to be as inconspicuous about it as possible, circling around to kneel behind Brandon.
I tapped his shoulder, and he grunted. “What?”
“Where’s Dez?” I asked.
He shrugged the shoulder closest to me and said over it, “How would I know?”
I sighed. “Can we talk for a sec?”
“Nope,” he said, “I’m busy. Your boyfriend will have to wait. If he still is.”
“Can you at least tell me where he might be? Where do you guys stay?”
That stiffened his arms for a second before he relaxed again. “Keep walking,” he said, “and you’ll see.”
He didn’t glance at me or follow up in any way, so I stood to leave. “He means back that way,” a random guy watching the game told me, pointing toward the big semis.
“Got it,” I said, though I didn’t.
But I could hardly march back in the direction of the Cirque now—I didn’t want to leave this unfinished with Dez. Maybe the two of them had a cute tent they pitched back here or something. That wouldn’t be so bad, even if it meant the lack of a real roof overhead.
There was a line of porta-potties back here, and outdoor showers hooked up to a water line. I passed them and made for the big trucks. Surprisingly, there were lights on in the backs of the semis closest to the makeshift plumbing. Multiple sliding doors ran along the side, some open and some closed.
The first open door showed a glimpse of a single-sized bunk with rumpled sheets crammed against a partition, a pole for hanging up clothes, and no other room to speak of.
These semis weren’t for hauling equipment. They housed miniature living compartments.
I checked in each open door as discreetly as I could, nodding to crewmen as I passed. Most of them, already asleep, didn’t nod back. The doors were left open to admit night air. No one had air-conditioning, though a few had fans rigged up in the corners.
Dez wasn’t in the first truck, so I kept going to the next. The same story along this line of sleeping compartments—a few people sleeping, others with their doors closed.
I neared the end of the truck. One door closed, and one last open one.
“Dez?” I asked softly, sensing he was near. Hoping he was and hoping he wasn’t. I knew he probably didn’t want me here.
“Shit,” he said.
Guess I was right.
I paused. I couldn’t see him yet.
Obviously, I didn’t care that he lived in this tiny space. That these semis existed was another part of circus life I hadn’t known about. I hadn’t even considered that Dez didn’t have a nice place to stay. My alternative to the Airstream had been my convertible, and I’d thought that wouldn’t be comfortable enough. I was a pampered princess, I realized, in a way I’d never understood before. I felt ashamed of my obliviousness.
I took another step.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said.
He was sitting up against the makeshift metal wall behind a small cot, like he’d been staring out into the nothingness of the night before I arrived.
He reached over and pulled the chain on a desk lamp sitting precariously on top of a battered red dictionary on a shelf over the bed.
The light revealed a swollen eye with impressively, painfully multihued bruising around it. There was also a tint of red on his cheeks. Him blushing instead of me, for once, and I hated it. I hated what I suspected was the reason for it.
“Don’t you dare feel embarrassed.” I paused. “Can we talk here? Can anyone hear?”
I knew a little about my dangers, but I didn’t know the first thing about Dez’s.
“Brandon’s out running a game,” he said. “No one else would be able to. But I’m not really in a talking mood.”
“Too bad.” I eased onto the cot and swung my feet up, sitting cross-legged beside him. He didn’t mirror my posture, leaving his legs stretched out beside mine. Not touching, but so close that it had to be a decision for them not to.
“You came to break it off, didn’t you? I can save you the time.” He raised his hands and made sarcastic air quotes. “‘We aren’t right for each other. Two different worlds. Fun while it lasted.’”
Th
e words were clipped. I’d never seen him like this.
“Wrong. I came to tell you that I don’t get brushed off this easy. Dez, I may be stupid. I know I shouldn’t want this, but . . . I don’t want to break anything off. Not with you.” I took a breath. If I was brave enough to seal myself into a coffin . . . “I came to make this real.”
He shifted forward, away from the wall. Toward me.
“And I came to see if you’re okay. Why’d that guy hit you?”
He surged forward, and his other hand cupped my cheek, and he kissed me. His lips crashed into mine, but it was a pleasant pain. This kiss had darkness in it, and frustration, and wanting. And it felt true. True in a way our others hadn’t. In the way I wanted with him.
I kissed him back the same way.
Danger, danger, my brain said. My heart beat back its response: Shut up. Shut up and kiss the boy.
I pulled back first. “Why was that guy here again? He doesn’t seem like much of a family friend, doing this.” When Dez’s expression darkened, I added, “Not to such a pretty face.”
I gingerly touched the unmarked skin below the bruising. And then I moved beside him, our bodies touching from our shoulders to our calves, hanging off the side of the little bed. We faced the small sampling of clothes draped over the top of the bar, including his tanks. The only nicer piece of clothing there was the suit from our date.
“I don’t think our families are much alike,” Dez said. “Can’t we just go back to kissing?”
Ha. You have no idea. “We can, as soon as you explain. How you grew up . . . that’s not your fault.”
“I should have texted you back,” he said.
“So make it up to me. Tell me now. Why did that guy hit you?” I didn’t ask why Dez would let him. That guy had given off a deep feeling of wrongness about him during my one close encounter. I wouldn’t encourage Dez to fight him.
“I owe him something. My dad owed him something.”
“Money?”
“Worse. Loyalty.”
That was worse. A sudden thought occurred to me. “You aren’t here looking for a magic coin, are you? One that belonged to the Garcias?”
Long moments stretched with no glib reply. Probably I shouldn’t have asked. Could Dez be one of them? The Praestigae? It was impossible, right? But . . .
“You should be careful who you mention that to,” he said.
I wasn’t letting him off the hook. “Should I have mentioned it to you? What do you know about it?”
“What do you know about it?”
“You realize you’re acting really weird, right? Are you looking for it?”
“No, but I’ve heard a lot of chatter about it,” he said. “The way you do in places like this. Rumors about last season, about this famous coin surfacing that means easy street for anyone who has it. There are people who are convinced that it exists and that it gives good luck. People always want something valuable.”
In some ways, it would have been less complicated if he’d said yes, he was looking for it. My mother needed it. He might even have had the answers I longed for. Of course, my mother was also convinced that the Praestigae finding out about me would be a disaster.
“How did you hear about it?” he asked. “From Nancy Maroni?” He dropped the name casually.
That set off a string of doubts: He wasn’t lying to me now, was he? He could have just pretended that he’d never even heard of it. But he hadn’t—which meant he probably wasn’t looking for it. Or he was lying to me again and I was a terrible judge of character making a huge mistake.
No, I want this. Him.
“I heard it belonged to the Garcias,” I said. “And they’ve heard that people are looking for it.” Except that possibly made it sound like they told me about the coin, and implied that I thought it was real. That was too much to give away. But the leap he made was a different one.
“Then they don’t have it?”
I shrugged. “How would I know? And why do you want to know anyway? Do you believe what you’ve heard? That it’s real, and that it can do, um, magic?”
I had no idea why I was asking him this. I was begging to get caught.
“Sure.”
Not the response I expected. I straightened. “You do?”
He put his hand on my cheek again. “I keep telling you, where I come from, it’s not like wherever you’re from, lovely Moira. We believe in fairy tales. Magic coins, fair ladies, evil witches, tyrant kings, and benevolent queens.”
“Very funny.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking. He had mentioned the rumors about Nan to me too. “Anyway, handsome prince, you promise you won’t disappear again? That you’ll be honest with me?”
“I’ll do my best.” One side of his lips quirked, and then I got a full grin. “I’m happy you didn’t come to break up with me.”
I thought when he moved again, it would be to kiss me. But he pulled at my limbs, until we lay down beside each other in the little bunk, spooning, his front folded against my back. We could just barely fit, sideways. The embrace should have felt stifling. Instead, I felt safe.
More of this, my heart said. But danger, danger, said my brain.
Dez pressed a kiss to the crown of my head, and his fingers traced a lazy circle on my hand.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
“I’m glad our cards are on the table,” I said, wishing mine were.
I didn’t try to read the meaning of his sigh against my hair.
twenty-one
The hardware store aisles gleamed around us, packed with hammers and wrenches, nails and bolts. Normally, I’d have ordered what I needed for my new escape illusion from one of Dad’s suppliers. But that had been a lot easier when I was having things shipped to the condo or the theater, and then peeling them off as needed.
“What are we here for again?” Dez asked. His eye was almost back to normal, with only faded bruising around it. A red line where his cheek scab had been.
He’d ridden with me on the drive here to Kansas City for our shows through the Fourth of July. In fact, we’d spent an insane amount of time together over the past week. I should have been sick of being around him, and wanting to be alone, if only for a few hours.
But I wasn’t and didn’t.
I was in deep trouble with this beautiful, rakish boy. Hanging out with him almost made me forget about the revelations from my mother. And Dad’s secret warehouse. Almost. Nothing kept me from worrying about my magic and what would happen if I couldn’t control it during the illusion I was planning.
Becoming a magician was still the most important thing in my life. I’d poured all my excess energy into developing this new escape. My most spectacular yet.
And, yes, the riskiest. But I wasn’t telling anyone that part.
“Lovely Moira? I asked you a question,” Dez said. “Are you obsessing about my good looks again?”
“Something like that,” I said.
He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. Easy and familiar. Which had the combined effect of being disconcerting. I was falling for him too hard. The girls at the theater would have urged caution, even if Dita and Jules seemed to approve. (Jules especially—he’d gotten her right at the start with the flowers and the solo Ferris wheel ride.)
Dez swept his arms to indicate the entire store around us. He was in his usual tank and beat-up jeans. “So, what are we here for? Because I would like to be somewhere else. Somewhere with just the two of us.”
“Shut up,” I said, knowing my cheeks had gone up in a flare of May Day red. His arms were distractingly delicious from all that knife-throwing. “You’re assisting me today. We’re working.”
“Ready and willing. So . . .”
I started walking up the aisle again. “Chains. We’re here for chains.”
When he didn’t respond right away, I looked over my shoulder. He was standing in the middle of the aisle. “Kinky,” he said.
My cheeks, my cheeks, my cheeks are on fire. We don’t
need no water; let me do a disappearing act. Poof.
“They’re for my new illusion, gutter mind.”
“Oh,” he said with a shrug, and advanced. When he got close, he spoke into my ear. “I love messing with you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Romantic interlude over.”
Besides, we were at the section of locks and chains. There was a display of various chains hanging lengthwise. I ran my fingers over them, testing the size of the links and the weight of each one thoroughly.
“This one’s nice.” I wrapped the promising silver chain with tight links around my forearm and tugged to see how it felt.
“You’re going to use those?” he asked. “Why call it an illusion and use real chains?”
“An escape illusion. This is for the escape part. What else would I use? I left my good chains at home.” I didn’t look away, thoroughly absorbed in deciding which would work best. This new illusion was going to be grand, outdoors, and bar-raising for me—assuming I was able to convince Thurston to let me do it.
He had let Jules walk above cities, so I figured it should be fine. I just had to pull it off perfectly when I demonstrated it for him. That was the key to getting his approval.
“Um, you could use fake chains? Some sort of magic-shop fake ones? Or just stand on the ground and do card tricks?”
“Gross,” I said. “That’s not the kind of magic I do.” I paused. “I mean, I do employ certain tools and tricks, but you need the major elements of an escape to be real these days. People are too savvy to believe what happens behind a curtain is real now. They want to see something they never thought they’d see up close. Like a girl escaping from chains”—I smiled—“while suspended upside down from a burning rope.”
I looked around the store. “Speaking of which, we need to pick up some heavy-duty rope too.”
“Suspended from how high?” His arms were crossed in front of his chest.
“I thought I’d start with a dozen feet.”
“Oh, just enough to break your neck.”
I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the chains in front of me. “I don’t plan on doing that. Why the sudden attitude change? You helped me get my break.”