Circus Wolf

by Lynde Lakes

  ****

  Hugh stuck his head into the office doorway. “Good news,” he told Boss Coleman, “Tigra is resting, but she’ll be able to do the evenings show.”

  “Great!” Coleman said. “Glad you came by. I need a clown for the Entrance Parade. Billy Cornwell has disappeared. Ever play around with clown make-up?”

  “No, sir. But if you provide the costume, I can probably improvise.”

  Coleman handed him a costume that was several sizes too big around the middle and too short. “Tigra is great with make-up and costuming, but we’d better let her rest. Bubbles, the exotic dancer can help you. She’s a make-up expert, too. She’s in caravan seven. You’d better talk to her right away. Unless you’re a quick change artist, you’ll probably have to wear your costume in the tiger show.” Coleman smiled. “With all the sensationalism in the newspapers about the tiger attack on Rolo, we should have a full house in spite of the unpredictable weather. Which means we can’t disappoint them on any level. Maybe a clown in the cage wouldn’t be a bad idea. I liked the tiger switch trick, but we have to keep the surprises coming.”

  The satisfied look in the boss’ expression and the calculating tone in his voice sent an uneasy feeling creeping through Hugh. Could the boss have poisoned Rolo to bring sensationalism to his circus, thereby increasing the revenue? Could he also be the thief?

  As Hugh headed back out into the fairground’s swarming crowds, he frowned at his thoughts. He liked the boss and didn’t want to think evil of him.

  Chapter Nine

  Hugh slowed his pace when he saw Vance Skull Kilman coming toward him; he had seen his aerial act from a distance and saw him around the grounds, following after Tigra, but he’d never talked to him. His long, high-cheek boned face with shadowy hollows and his musky odor reminded Hugh of the walking dead he’d known. Skully, as everyone called him, wrinkled his narrow nose as if he had also caught a scent and gave a poor excuse for a knowing smile through thin lips, showing long, extremely white teeth.

  “Where’s Tigra,” Skully asked.

  The biting chill to his voice scraped across Hugh’s nerves. That and the dead look in his eyes warned that, when it came to women, Skully was a user and opportunist. And possibly a killer.

  “She’s resting for tonight’s performance.” Tigra’s habit of not allowing anyone to do what she could do on her own and her dedication to her job could make her especially vulnerable to an advantage-seeking man like Skully.

  Skully sent him a gleaming white smile; he was probably considered a handsome man by the ladies. He wore his long, black hair in a pony-tail and, as an aerialist, the man had a tight flat abdomen, wide-shoulders, and appeared strong and fit. Hugh fought a pang of jealousy and hoped there wasn’t something going on between Mr. Highwire and the Queen of Tigers.

  As they did a sizing up dance, Hugh’s suspicions grew. He sensed something supernatural, cold, even icy about the man. He didn’t know where Skully Kilman fit into the trouble arising about them, but the vibes rushing between them were like dark, swirling flood waters of death. The aerialist bore watching. He definitely didn’t want him around Tigra. Hugh shook his head at his possessiveness; he was acting as if he owned her.

  He snickered at his arrogance; his internal self knew the truth. Inside he’d always be the once horribly deformed hunchback with no such rights to any woman. How dare he try to fool himself and others with his phony facade of confidence? Yes, he resided in a handsome strong body, but underneath he was still Hugo, the cripple.

  No! I mustn’t think the old way. The angel promised I was equal to any man in every way, and to honor her, I must honor her belief in me. To have any kind of life at all, I must believe in myself, sidestep negative thoughts, and avoid suspecting everyone of wrong doing.

  ****

  Hugh spent the next few minutes between annoyance, grim speculation, and building up his nerve to call on the entertainer called Bubbles. Time was fleeting. He didn’t want to bother Tigra, so he forced himself to tap on Bubbles’ caravan door. With her radio blaring, it would be futile to hope she wasn’t home. She answered wearing feathers, rhinestones and little else.

  He swallowed, broke out in a sweat, and couldn’t seem to avert his eyes. “Mr. Coleman sent me. He thought you might help me with some clown makeup.”

  Bubbles chewed hard on her gum and looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat. “Sure, honey,” she said with a hillbilly twang in her voice. “Coleman called and said he was sending you over. Just plunk yerself down and I’ll turn yer handsome, serious face into a grinning white-faced jester. How’s that?”

  “Sounds good.”

  In spite of her overt beauty, he saw the telltale traces of a hard life—lines around eyes that had seen too much, a mouth that had learned to curse like a truck driver and one that had kissed too many frogs. Poor girl.

  Her caravan was neat enough except for the counter strewn with a jumble of varied sized make-up cases. When he eased into the chair before the mirror, she bent over him, her breasts practically falling out of her skimpy bra. He leaned back as far as possible. She grabbed his face and pinched it between long fingers. Her dagger-like blood-red fingernails traced his skin, and against his will, the stroking sent heat to his groin.

  “Want a massage first? For you, honey, it’ll be free.” She traced her hand to his shoulders and found his knots. “Sugar, you’re so tense. I could firm you up and then send you on your way loose as a goose.”

  He cleared his throat. “Just the make-up job, please.”

  “In a rush to train with Tigra? I’ll bet she’s a real tiger in the sack.”

  Hugh frowned. “I wouldn’t know. She’s a professional with me and I appreciate that about her.”

  “You gay, honey?”

  “Please, Miss Bubbles.”

  “Okay. But for a guy who wants to play clown, you’re not much on clowning around.”

  She worked fast and rough, revealing her displeasure. As she fit a white skull cap over his head, she said, “It’s a shame to hide all that silky hair.” She yanked a hank through a hole in the top and dangled it down his back like a pony tail. She fingered it slowly then finally affixed false tufts of hair over his ears. She dropped her lipstick in his lap and when she retrieved it, she managed to stroke a finger across his cock.

  Hugh tightened his jaw, and with effort, concentrated on the make-up job.

  “You do good work.” He groaned at his choice of words after just being fondled.

  “What I meant is, you’re skilled with make-up.”

  “I’m skilled in everything, honey. Remember, when you need a massage I do a thorough job.” She tilted her head. “If it’s Tigra who scratches your itch, just remember Rolo. They were hot for each other until his popularity grew to almost match hers. Think about it. Isn’t it strange an expert trainer like The Queen of Tigers couldn’t stop her assistant from getting mauled and chewed up like raw steak?” She leaned in closer, giving him the feeling she was on the verge of adding something else then cut herself off.

  Did she know something? The switch of tigers in last night’s act could have ended in disaster. He could have been eaten too. How much control did Tigra have on how the act played out? I’m thinking crazy, letting a jealous woman stir me up.

  ****

  Tigra dialed Coleman, her hands steady now. “Boss, I wanted to assure you, I’ll be fine for tonight’s performance.”

  “That’s my girl, always the show woman. Knew I could count on you. We’re short a clown for the entrance parade. Billy Cornwell didn’t show up for the clown meeting and didn’t return after his trip to town last night, so I asked Hugh to fill in.”

  She wasn’t surprised. Every few months Billy got mixed up with a woman and went off on a drunken romp. Why the boss put up with him was a mystery. “What about my act?”

  “Hugh can do both. But he may have to wear a clown costume into the cage tonight.”

  “He’ll have to change. I don’t want
a clown upsetting the tigers. They’re still upset about Rolo and Candy.”

  “Come on. You can handle it. It might even add spice to the act.”

  “It’s spicy enough. I want to talk to Hugh. Now.”

  “I saw him leave Bubbles caravan just a few minutes ago.”

  Her eyes widened and her stomach flip-flopped.

  Coleman was quiet for a moment. “It’s not what you think. I sent him to her for make-up.

  When I last saw him, he was wearing a ruffled clown costume, white-face make-up, and his trademark moccasins were heading toward the canteen.

  ****

  Slamming closed her cell, Tigra felt hot annoyance rising in her gut. She rushed outside to look for Hugh. She didn’t know which made her angrier; Coleman changing her act, or the fact he’d sent Hugh to that hussy Bubbles. With the costume in the mix, it was more important than ever to get in at least half an hour of practice with Hugh and the tigers. She frowned, mulling over her conversation with the boss. Coleman had done nothing to directly arouse her suspicions, but his attitude about Rolo dying seemed callous and revenue centric.

  She spied Hugh sitting on a bench with a little toe-headed barefoot boy of about seven. He wiped away the child’s tears with a long length of rainbow scarves tied together. The freckle-faced child with the tear-stained face had the saddest expression she’d ever seen. Hugh made funny faces and when the child stopped crying and laughed, Hugh hoisted him up on his shoulders and headed into the crowd. Rather than catch up to Hugh, she followed behind, enthralled with his ability to comfort the child so quickly. Hugh had a number of sides to him and she found them all intriguing. He caught up with a frantic-looking couple, who apparently was the boy’s parents, and talked with them a moment, shook their hands, and then headed back toward his caravan alone.

  Again, she couldn’t help but wonder who this man was and what made him tick.

  ****

  Tigra caught up with Hugh.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “The moccasins,” she said. “And Coleman told me about your new getup and makeup job.”

  “You don’t like the clown outfit, right?”

  “What I like isn’t the point. Just don’t spook my tigers. Now let’s get to work. We’re short of time, but we must practice the highlights of tonight’s performance a minimum of three times to keep us safe and the tigers protected.”

  She worked Hugh hard and admired him even more when he didn’t complain.

  Finally, time ran out and they had to stop. Tigra looked at her watch and said, “Up for a cup of juice or water before the parade starts?” She could use some water, but no sugary stimulants. Maybe a lemony magnesium drink would be best, if the snack shack had some. She needed to stay calm and in control. Her goal was merely to engage Hugh in conversation for a few minutes and learn more about her intriguing new assistant.

  He winked. “Sure. Why not?”

  They headed for the refreshment tent with its red and white awning.

  “Magnesium water for me,” she told the counter boy.

  “Sorry. We’re out.”

  “Then, I’ll have a bottle of Arrowhead Springs water.”

  “Make it two,” Hugh said.

  After they were seated across from each other, she lifted her bottle as if in a toast. “To your good health. This water is reportedly bottled from the local mountain springs.”

  “Interesting, but I find you more interesting. I have to ask, what enticed a classy, talented lady like you to join a traveling circus?”

  She intended to quip that she liked to travel and loved animals, but his seriousness and something indefinable in his ridiculous clown made up face and unsmiling eyes and the unreality of the moment, made her want to give him a touch of something real of herself. “My foster dad was a ringmaster and I was raised in a circus atmosphere.”

  He smiled. “Awesome. But you said foster dad. What happened to your birth dad?”

  She dug her nails into her palm. “I doubt you really want to hear about him.”

  “Oh, but I do. Please.”

  She glanced at her watch and sighed. “He was a thirty-year old absent, philandering Scotsman who traveled the world. He met my mother while in Africa and promised to marry her and take her to the United States where she could live like a queen. Her father, a chieftain who practiced witchcraft, became enraged when the lying scum failed to keep his promise and deserted my mother who was only fifteen at the time. Not knowing she was pregnant, the chieftain cursed him and his offspring. ”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  Tigra forced a laugh and glanced at her watch again. “We’ll save that saga of my life for another time.” She shredded a napkin with her dagger nails. She wasn’t willing to reveal the rest: that when her terrified pregnant teen mom, with no means of support, bore a cursed, growling tiger-child that she dumped her in the hills where the ringmaster found her.

  She only knew the early history because of Madam Mystic. Or had the wily African mystic lied? The colorful crystal-gazer was known for her wild tales.

  None of it mattered now. But it was lucky for her, the ringmaster was fascinated by her duality and he took her into his heart and raised and educated her as his own. “That saga is too long a story for the short time we have. But we have time to hear about you. Why did you join the circus?”

  He grinned. “You’re right. My story is short and straightforward. I love animals and travel. I’ve read about the world and now I want to see it.”

  She doubted his reasons were that uncomplicated. Everything about him carried a web of mystery. She pointed to her watch and stood. It was time for him to join the rest of the clowns for the night’s opening pre-show parade. “Have fun with the clowns, but don’t wear yourself out. I need you sharp and alert for our act. And if you have time, ditch the clown garb. It seems to agitate the tigers.”

  She watched him jog away, looking foolishly hugable.

  Telling Hugh even that small amount about her life had stirred memories of her ringmaster dad. He was more like a granddad and she called him Grandy. Unmarried and childless, he opened his heart to all children. Especially her. His many wondrous stories of the animals and his travel experiences made her content to call the circus home. Grandy was knowledgeable about every phase of the circus, the good and the evil, and taught her all he knew. Raised in a circus atmosphere, her empathy and understanding of the animals made her a natural trainer and handler. Grandy had always kept her secret and no one knew of her duality, except the mystic, who for her own reason never spilled the beans. Tigra felt a wistful smile tug at her lips. It was natural for her to stay on after Grandy died. She’d wondered about another life, but never longed for it. Now she was more curious than ever about Hugh. The more she learned, the more certain she became she’d only scratched the surface.

  Chapter Ten

  After the parade, Hugh headed for the center ring in his clown costume. For a lead-in, he did a cartwheel and a handstand and walked forward upside down. The crowd laughed and pointed. He decided to play it to the hilt and build on their expectations. He righted himself and pointed toward the cage and shaking his head, he pantomimed a violent No! Stalling, he did some somersaults and flips. He gestured to the cage and took a step forward then jumped back shaking his head. The full-house crowd laughed and a man shouted, “Go get um’, clown man.”

  The spectators were hungry for slapstick thrills and he felt their tension mounting. Can I pull this off? He remembered the little toe-headed boy and figured he was in the stands somewhere. It had been a great feeling to make the youngster laugh.

  His hand hesitated on the door of the Center Cage. “For you, kid,” he said.

  He’d barely stepped inside when the animal hatch banged open and Stripes charged into the cage. He felt a small measure of relief that Tigra had decided to hold back some of the tigers. Probably because of the trouble they had this afternoon due the clown costume. Good thinking, Tigra. One a
gitated tiger is enough. Stripes rushed toward him with his orange and black powerful body in muscled motion. Stripes growled, his mouth wide and hungry-looking.

  Hugh sucked in a long breath and snapped his whip. With a huge paw, Stripes swatted at the whip and whisked it away. Oh, God. Big decision. Run, or stay and try to hypnotize the beast. What if I morph? Sometimes tough situations brought on the change. The quickest way to save my life, secure my secret, and keep the act going is to stick with humor. He grabbed the cage bars, and quick like a monkey, he performed a hand over hand upward climb, squealing like a Banshee. When well out of reach, he hung upside down and made funny faces at Stripes. The crowd went wild with laughter.

  Stripes stood on his hind legs and lashed at him with clawed, slashing fore paws. Hugh climbed a little higher and stuck out his tongue. He heard the uproarious laughter of the crowd. So far so good. But am I making Stripes more dangerous to Tigra? Until this second, he hadn’t thought of that.

  He heard Tigra’s strong young voice ordering Stripes back. When the tiger turned and growled at Tigra, his heart skipped a beat. It’s now or never. He dropped from the side of the cage onto the beast’s back and rode him like a mad bull. The crowd went wild. Then someone went against the plan and released the other four tigers into the cage. Tigra looked stunned, but continued as though, that too, was part of the performance. Hugh let loose with a gush of air in great relief when the four tigers turned and leapt up on their pedestals. They pawed the air. Now what? He grabbed his chain of rainbow scarves from his pocket with his teeth, wrestled the tiger to the ground like a bull, and hogtied its paws with the link of colorful ribbon. With Stripe’s strength and sharp teeth, the silk would only hold for an instant.

  Hugh grabbed Tigra’s curvy firm body, wrapped only in those enticing strips of fur, up into his arms and thrust her into the smaller cage and slammed the door. He leapt on top of the large cage, cage two, covered it with the drapes, waved his hand across the top and shouted, “abracadabra”. He prayed she would disappear the way she’d appeared in the previous show. Before the tigers could leap up and get him, he leapt higher onto the bars of cage three, caught hold, climbed to the top of the main cage and again, played the antic-filled, screeching monkey. The crowds went wild with laughter. He was breathing hard and needed a moment to catch his breath, but this was no time to rest on his laurels. He had to finish the act. He dropped down and removed the drape. Sure enough, Tigra was gone and another tiger crouched inside the cage.