by Diane Kelly
A cool breeze lifted my cape as the children around me cheered.
I shifted another bean bag to my right hand, took aim again, and sent another bean bag into the air with an underhand toss. Plunk! This bag, too, went directly into the milk can.
“Two down, one to go,” the man said. “Looks like your magic spell is working.”
I sent the final bag toward the milk can. This one hit the rim, seemed to hover for a moment, then slid down through the hole. Plunk!
“Three for three. That’s impressive.” The man pulled a black cat down from the overhead display and held it out to me. “Happy Halloween.”
“Thanks!” I took the cat from him and turned to find a small child who looked to be about three looking up at me. She was dressed as a ballerina in a pink leotard, ballet slippers, and frilly tutu. Her big brown eyes went from my face, to the cat, and back again. I held the cat out to her. “I think this cat wants to go home with you.”
Her face brightened. She gingerly took the cat from me, then clutched the animal to her chest, a grin on her face.
“Say ‘thank you’ to the witch, sweetie,” her mom told her, giving me a smile, too.
The little girl blinked her big eyes. “Thank you!”
Having found the cat a home, I continued around the festival grounds, surreptitiously scanning the crowd for Guff as I walked. A flash of blue caught my eye. Was that him? Nope. Just a banner on a kettle corn stand. Darn.
As I rounded the corner by the hay bale maze, a small gathering drew my attention. The people had formed a circle around a duo of performers though, from this distance, it was impossible to see who the performers were. All I could see were colorful juggling pins arcing through the air in the center of the crowd.
I eased up on the outside of the group and craned my neck to see around a man with his young son on his shoulders. The first performer I spotted was a female clown in a pink polka-dotted suit. She had bright pink lips set in a white face, with exaggerated false lashes on her lids. She caught one of the pins and sent it twirling end-over-end into the air over her head. A second later, she caught another pin on its way down and sent it sailing back toward her partner. As she let go, she quirked her brows, pursed her lips, and blew a kiss to her partner. The group broke into laughter.
I craned my neck in the other direction to see who Polka Dot was flirting with. A tall woman blocked my line of vision for a moment, then the performer took a step forward to catch an errant pin. Guff. He put a hand in the air, pretended to snatch the kiss the other clown had blown to him, and slapped it to his cheek.
Who was the woman? Was she his girlfriend?
Clearly the two had practiced their routine, so she must be someone he knew well. Though I knew it was silly to feel this way about someone I’d known for only two hours, my heart nonetheless sank in defeat. This was the last time I’d let myself get worked up over a little harmless flirting.
Might as well go home now, right? There was still enough time left in the day to list my magic props for sale on eBay.
Chapter Four
Let’s Roll
As I turned away from the group my stomach rumbled, reminding me that the bowl of stale Lucky Charms I’d had for breakfast had long-since vacated the premises. I still planned to leave the festival, but figured there was no sense passing up a free lunch beforehand. I ventured forth, making my way first past a series of picnic tables to the food booths. The smells of frying foods and roasting peanuts greeted me. The stands offered a wide variety of options, everything from the standard corn dogs and greasy funnel cake to a food truck with a full sushi menu. Now you’re talking.
I stepped up to window and perused the menu board posted overhead.
A Japanese man in a white chef’s jacket looked down at me. “Hello, witch. What can I get you?”
“Got anything made with eye of newt?”
He chuckled. “Sorry. We’re fresh out.”
“I’ll take an avocado roll, then, and a bottled water.”
He handed me the water bottle and I stood aside, waiting as he prepared my roll.
A man and woman with three children ranging in age from five to ten years passed by.
“Loved your show!” called the woman.
“Thanks!” Tears pricked at my eyes but I blinked them back. It was too late. Even if people did enjoy my show, I couldn’t make a living at it. Time to move on, I reminded myself.
I resumed my wait, watching as the chef rolled up the rice and avocado inside the seaweed paper and sliced it into small round pieces.
“Here you go, witch.” The chef held out my sushi roll, which nestled in a white cardboard container along with a dollop of green wasabi and a pile of pink ginger.
“This looks great.” I took the food from him. The sushi couldn’t cure my heartache, of course, but it could cure my hunger.
I fished a set of paper-wrapped disposable chopsticks from a bin on the counter, grabbed a napkin, and turned to seek out an available table. Instead, I ran smack dab into Guff’s chest. Oomph. “Sorry! I didn’t see you there.”
Nonplussed, he glanced down at the meal in my hand. “That sushi roll looks delicious.” He looked up at the chef. “Would you make one for me, too?”
“No problem.”
Guff returned his attention to me. “Mind if I join you for lunch?”
My face heated but, fortunately, the green makeup would mask my excited blush. “Why not?”
Once the chef had assembled the second roll and Guff had paid for his food, we aimed for a nearby picnic table and took seats opposite each other. I glanced around for the pink polka-dotted clown, but she was nowhere to be seen. Hmm . . .
As always, I put far more wasabi on my roll than advisable. The next thing I knew my eyes were watering and my sinuses were on fire.
Guff plopped a sizable dollop of wasabi onto a piece of his roll and did the same, grimacing against the pain. When he recovered, he chuckled. “That stuff packs a wallop.”
I toyed with a second piece. “I saw your juggling act. You and the pink clown are really good. Do you work together regularly?” Okay, so I was fishing for information. Sue me.
“Sometimes,” he said. “We went to clown college together.”
“I guess everyone’s the class clown there, huh?”
He pointed his chopsticks at me. “You’ve got a quick wit, Ally.” He ate another bite of his roll. “Actually, Dotty was the valedictorian of our class. She aced everything from juggling, to balloon art, to make-up.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I flunked the hula hoop. Never could get the hang of the thing.”
“So you’re no good with your hips.”
He cast me a heated look. “Depends on the context.”
I raised a teasing brow in return.
He took a sip of his water and eyed me intently. “Why were you asking about Dotty?”
I shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Curious?” He narrowed his gaze. “Or jealous?”
I rolled my eyes, pretending he was off the mark when in fact he’d hit it right on the head. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I have to flatter myself,” Guff replied, tossing his hands in the air. “Nobody else will. Rubber noses and oversized shoes don’t exactly invite compliments. People magazine isn’t going to name me their sexiest man alive.”
“Well, you put on a wonderful act,” I said, “and you’ve got a great smile. How’s that?”
He quirked his brows. “I’ll take it. And in return may I say that you are really working that wart. I can hardly contain myself.”
Now it was my mouth fighting a grin. I could really use a guy like him. One who could make me laugh and forget about my problems.
We chatted as we ate our meal.
“Is Ally your real name?” he asked.
“Yep,” I said.
“Short for Abigail?”
“Nope. Just Ally. How about you? Surely your real name isn’t G
uff Aws.”
“Guff is actually my last name.” He plopped another blob of wasabi onto another piece of sushi. “My first name is Jason.”
Jason Guff. Good to know. “How’d you get into clowning?” I asked.
“Summer camp when I was twelve,” he replied, taking a quick drink from his water bottle. “My counselor was eighteen and could juggle pine cones. I thought he was the coolest guy ever and I wanted to be just like him. Juggling was sort of my gateway drug. From there, I went on to stilts, riding a unicycle, making balloon animals.”
“You know how to make balloon animals?”
“Sure. How about I make one for you?”
“I’d love it.”
He reached into the pockets of his pants and proceeded to pull out an air pump and a handful of long, colorful balloons. He jacked the pump a dozen times to fill a yellow balloon, tied the end closed, and proceeded to twist the balloon in his hands. Whipping a black marker from his pants pocket, he drew lines across the back of the animal and added a mouth, nose, and pair of eyes on the face.
He handed the tiger to me. “Careful. He bites.”
“Do you bite?” Sheesh! The words had escaped my mouth before I’d had time to think about them. What had gotten into me today?
Fortunately, Guff seemed amused by my obvious come-on. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Lest more unintended quips leap from my lips, I shoved another piece of sushi into my mouth.
Guff eyed me. “You’re awfully confident for a woman with missing teeth and green skin.”
I swallowed the bite. “I could say the same for you. Most men couldn’t pull off that much makeup unless they were in drag.”
He took another sip of his water. “So,” he asked, “what do you do when you aren’t performing magic?”
I shrugged. “Waitress at a sports bar or sit on my apartment patio and read mystery novels to Tommy.”
“Tommy?” Jason stiffened, holding a piece of sushi aloft. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“No. He’s my orange tabby cat.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I have a mutt,” he replied, “and I’m a mystery fan, too.”
So we were both sushi enthusiasts, pet lovers, and whodunit fans. I wondered what else we might have in common.
I pinched another piece of my avocado roll between my chopsticks. “Is your family supportive of your clowning?”
He angled his hand in a so-so motion. “My mother thinks it’s cute. My father thinks it’s an embarrassment. My brother can’t say much. He works at a telemarketing company, selling aluminum siding. What about you?”
“Pretty much the same,” I said. “They don’t get it at all, but they try to be supportive. Every once in a while they ask me when I’m going to get a ‘real job.’” As if entertaining people, making them happy and allowing them to forget their problems for awhile wasn’t a real job. Ugh. Of course now I could tell them I’d given up on magic.
“Did you grow up here in town?” Jason asked.
“Lived here all my life. Graduated from the performing arts high school.” I’d elected to attend the magnet school to pursue my interest in theater, which had later evolved into illusions.
“No kidding?” Jason asked.
I nodded. “Graduated in 2009.”
He raised his palms, incredulous. “I graduated from there in 2005.”
So he was only four years older than me. Good to know. Looked like I wasn’t flirting with someone’s grandpa or a college kid after all. “We just missed each other.”
“Shame,” he said. “I bet you were a cutie. I probably would’ve hit on you.”
With my braces and glasses and poor posture, I certainly wasn’t the most attractive girl on campus. Still, I was fierce on stage, inspiring more than one of my male classmates to a hopeless crush.
Jason went on. “I played Grandpa Vanderhof in You Can’t Take it with You.”
“I was Rebecca Gibbs in Our Town.” A minor role, but one with some important lines nonetheless.
Jason snapped his fingers once and pointed at me. “I saw that! I was home on a weekend trip back from college. You were great!”
So he knew what I looked like under my makeup, but I still had no idea about him. “Small world, huh?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe fate was trying to bring us together.”
Hmm. “That’s awfully philosophical for a man wearing a rainbow wig and a rubber nose.”
Chapter Five
Sack Up
As we finished our meal, an announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Head on over to the west end of the festival grounds folks. We’ll be starting the Halloween Olympics shortly.”
“Halloween Olympics?” Jason gathered up our trash. “Let’s go check it out.”
“Why not?” I was a horrible athlete, but what did I have to lose at this point? I’d already given up on my dream to become a world-famous illusionist. Might as well round out the day by sucking at sports, too.
Jason tossed our garbage into a can nearby and we followed a stream of people heading toward the western end of the fairgrounds where a makeshift sports field was outlined with white chalk and orange flags that flapped in the light breeze.
A man with a bullhorn stood next to a woman with a bin full of burlap potato sacks. “Our first event will be the sack race,” he announced. “If you’d like to join in, come on over, grab a sack, and line up behind the white line.”
Jason cut a hopeful look my way. “What do you say?”
“I’m game,” I said. “But I should give you fair warning that I’m no good at sports.”
“That’s perfect,” he said, “’cause sack racing isn’t much of a sport.”
Jason grabbed my hand and pulled me along behind him. I supposed I could have put up a fight, but frankly I liked the feel of his warm, strong hand in mine. I would’ve let the guy lead me all around the festival grounds if he wanted.
Jason let go of my hand when we reached the woman distributing the sacks. “Two please.”
She handed him two sacks, and he turned and gave one of them to me. Pop! The rough burlap rubbed against the latex, putting a quick end to my balloon tiger. I held up the tattered remnants and made a sad face.
Guff lifted a shoulder. “At least this latex failure doesn’t have consequences.”
The guy might look like a total doofus in his clown suit, but he had a witty sense of humor and sure knew how to lift a girl’s spirits. I tossed the popped balloon into a trash bin.
We made our way to the starting line, taking a spot between a group of teenage boys and a group of teenage girls engaged in trash talk.
“You’ll eat our dust!” hollered a boy with blond spiky hair.
“Don’t be so sure!” yelled a girl with a dark pony tail. “I won all district in the long jump last track season.”
Jason and I climbed into our sacks and he helped me tuck the loose ends of my cape inside so I wouldn’t trip over them.