A Fear of Clowns (The Greasepaint Chronicals)

by P. S. Power

  The bigger man even smiled. It wasn't a large thing, and came with a head shake.

  "Sorry, no. Even the cops don't get in, most days. I could set up a viewing for you, if you really want to have a go at it, but that's all they'd get too, without a warrant. If we let everyone see what we do here then some of them might get ambitious, and try to pull one over on us. Not that I'm not proud of our work, but it's pretty dull stuff, most days. A few card counters and the occasional gimmick, people trying to control the slots with electromagnets and things like that. People thinking that being clever in their theft makes it better than if they stuck a gun in someone's face and just took it."

  Not that gambling was all that good of a deal. The idea was a stupid one, Jay knew, but didn't mention it. This man didn't invent the idea. For as long as humanity had walked upright there had been something like it. The idea that, thanks to luck, or chance, one person might gain without work. As they said, the house always won, which had also always been the rule. No one set up a game that didn't know they'd end up walking away with most of the cash from at the end of the night, at least the majority of the time.

  It was a thing that he'd never gone in for. Maybe it was just that Jay didn't like to take too many risks, preferring things that he had a real chance to influence, either through skill or preparation. That reminded him that he still had a job to do, as ill-defined as it was. He didn't know for certain, but there was a sense about the day that left him thinking that most large places ran their acts a bit more tightly than the Placemont was doing right then.

  "Ah, well, this humble hobo had best be back to work. I... Didn't get your name." It was on the tag, as Mr. Michelson, but it didn't hurt to make a bit of small talk now and then.

  "Greg. You're..."

  "Jason Hadley. Or," he gestured down at himself, to indicate his brown jacket and oversized tie. "Joey the Clown, the Clown of a Thousand Faces. Pretty much if you see someone running around here dressed too funny, it's probably me. For the next few days at least."

  The man grunted and turned away, seeming a lot more friendly, now that it had turned out that the clown was just what he seemed and not a super secret private eye or whatever would be sent in to gather information.

  Michelson smirked a bit.

  "Have you seen what most of these tourists wear? I'll see you around then. We can see about setting up that viewing if you're really interested? I have some police coming in tomorrow for it anyway, and it won't hurt to have a 'private consultant' in the background." Then, as if it were settled, the man just strode away, his footsteps heavy, and a bit hulking.

  Hunger was growling at him, but he didn't stop to find food, hitting the main floor again, and passing out more buffet coupons and hints about what was hot. Ginger was still there, serving drinks, watching him suspiciously. She smiled too though, as if getting that he'd changed, and was the same clown as before.

  The place was a lot busier just then, which meant that he was needed back on stage at nine, the main show. That was his plan at least, and no one stopped him or suggested they were up instead. Carlos and Wendy were actually back stage before he came off, leaving the audience seeming happier this time. It was the same act as earlier, with his humble character mainly telling stories, and working off color commentary into them. They were made up, after a fashion. Tales from his time on the streets that could be delivered with a punch line. That and some slapstick, with him falling down, or nearly so, and a few prop gags. One of them was a variation of the handkerchief bit that he'd done earlier, except the when he pulled the bit of cloth out, it was only a tiny red corner to it, with an obvious patch on it.

  "What can I say, times are hard!" It got a chuckle, which had been enough. Thankfully, after thirty minutes he was able to get out from in front of the curtain, Carlos and Wendy signaling him from the side area with big motions.

  "Dang it, I've been fired!" He hunched over, saying it with a goofy sounding voice that got people to look at him in shock, then laugh. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's all welcome The Great Mantooth, magician extraordinaire!"

  Clapping he backed off the stage, going to the other side, so that Carlos, who was dressed in a tux, along with a top hat on his slightly oversized head, and a cape that was made of black satin, could flow out to greet the audience. It was well done, and like always the man captivated them all, nearly instantly. No one even heckled him. They had Jay, but as they'd mentioned, he sucked. That could happen when you didn't really have an act.

  Max, the slightly better rested looking manager, seemed to have gotten some sleep and cleaned up. His face was bare now, and while still too round, making him look a bit like a hound dog, his eyes were a clear blue. Waving his hand, he motioned for Jay to come over, actually smiling, as they got back into a dressing area, and closed the door softly, so they could talk without disrupting the show.

  "That was freaking brilliant, kid. Unique too. A bit like an old time vaudeville thing, yeah? I hear you also worked the floor all day? The pit boss was keeping an eye on you. Said that if I didn't keep you on he'd put a curse on me. He will too, so, what do you say? We can set you up for a gig? You did a good job with the introduction there, so how about you do that too? We have two more acts on for the night. A song and dance group, doing covers from fifties mainly, and a ventriloquist. I have paperwork for them, so you won't be doing it blind. Kind of a position doing everything, but it pays medium." That got things shoved into his hands, which left him smiling.

  It sounded like, of all things, he'd just gotten a real job. It wasn't in his chosen field, but a clown could do worse than something like that.

  "Sounds good. Let me study this then? So I don't mess it up?" He kept to his stage voice, which didn't even get a funny look from the man. He worked with show people, and either got the idea, or was willing to accept that Jay had serious mental problems that caused him to stay in character when he was dressed for the part.

  The man took his hand, in both of his and shook it hard. Like a preacher trying to convince a person that he was truly holy on Sunday morning, no matter what he'd been out doing the night before.

  "Great! I'll get with you in the morning about the acts then. We need to hire at least four more, so we can spread things out. Losing everyone at once... You heard what happened?" He looked at the ceiling, where there was a camera set up. In a dressing room. Every place was watched there, to prevent theft. It probably had to be.

  "Card counting scam with at least ten of the performers in on it. Hushed up because you... we, had to let all of them go, just in case?" If he were getting a real position there, it would be best to proclaim himself part of the team as early as possible. Almost everything in life was really an "us and them" sort of game, and knowing that let him proclaim a side early. In this case it was the one that would pay him.

  "That's the situation. Who told you? We're going with food poisoning, to protect the innocent, if anyone asks. Also, if you can make sure people know they all ate somewhere else? We've had three days of people walking around wondering what the heck our cooks are doing back in the kitchens, which is unfortunate. They're good folk, back there. We're a family here. A giant, mostly dysfunctional and sometimes thieving one, but still... We look out for each other."

  "Got it. Greg mentioned something about sitting in on the video breakdown for the police tomorrow? I don't want to shirk my floor duties..."

  Max gave him a confused look, and then shook his head. "Give us four hours on the floor, and an hour on stage, with MC duties, four days a week. The rest of your time is yours, strictly speaking. We can, if you want, talk about management stuff too. I need a real assistant. First I want to see if you prove out, but if you do a good job... Well, let's just say that Carlos and Wendy both think you walk on water. That carries weight in this area." Then, after patting him on a brown hobo jacketed arm, the man left, so that Jay could get ready. He had to do that in the hall, since the five women who came in needed to change for their act. At least, he started
to move out of the way, since there wasn't room otherwise.

  "Hi, I'm doing your intro, I have the name of the group here, the Rhondettes Extravaganza?" He pointed at the paper, still in character, which got the forty year old looking redhead that seemed to be in charge to turn around, her shirt off, showing that she was wearing a bra at least. It was pink with small silk flowers on it. He made a point not to stare. That had to be unprofessional.

  "Rhonda and the Rhondettes Extravaganza. Jeeze." She looked at the sheet of paper and then rolled her eyes. "At least you asked first. Our last number is 'Remember me'. That says it's 'I Will Follow Him' which isn't even in our act anymore. Old info, from the last time we worked here. I'm Rhonda, by the way. Can you get a star for the door here? With my name on it?" It was said in a teasing fashion, so he nodded.

  "Cut from old newspaper? Us hobos gotta make do."

  She smiled and started to strip down, as if it didn't matter that he was standing right there. That meant it was time to get out of the room and make changes to the schedule, so that he'd hit the right cues. The lighting guy, who turned out to be a sturdy woman named Gloria, passed him a pen.

  "I'll need to get used to carrying my own. Thanks. Um," he was whispering, but rewrote the instructions on the pad that the woman had, not speaking out loud. That way she'd know the cues too.

  There were problems of course, since he hadn't put in his own introductions between sets, or planned anything out. After Carlos and Wendy cleared the stage, he just stumbled on and pretended not to know why he was there for a minute.

  "Um, some guy told me that if I did this I could have a sandwich. I'm soooo hungry. I haven't had a bite all day." Thankfully Max, who was in the back of the room called out, giving him something to work off of.

  "I'll bite you, if you don't do the introductions!" Everyone reacted, shocked by the pretend abuse.

  "Rhonda and the Rhondettes Extravaganza! Let's all clap... or that man will beat me!"

  Then he stumbled away, since the lights went out, waiting for the women who were behind the red curtain.

  They had music too, but that was all messed up, and out of order, since no one was running the sound system. The whole thing was an embarrassment, and halfway through it looked like Rhonda was about to walk off. She actually threw her microphone down, making it squeal angrily, and turned to leave, her pretty face red and disgusted looking. Jason couldn't blame her at all. It was the last minute nature of things he guessed, since all the ladies were really good singers. The timing was just all messed up, and the songs were being played out of order. Grabbing a push broom he swallowed, and patted Gloria on the shoulder.

  "Can you give me a spot, when I get center stage?" He didn't know what he was really going to do, but the music had stopped all together, and Max was hurrying to the back. Hopefully he knew what to do about it.

  Sweeping his way forward, all the ladies stopped moving and stared at him. It was rude to interrupt an act. It had to be, since it would normally be show stealing. Rhonda was good though, and grabbed onto the thread he was offering, her ruby red lips smirking. She put her hands on her hips and thrust them forward just enough that the audience could see it was all part of an act.

  "What's with the cut rate music? Aren't you supposed to be back there running things for us, Joey?" That she knew his name surprised him a little. He hadn't told her his performing moniker, he didn't think.

  "I was, but the sandwich that guy gave me had limburger on it. I'm on strike, until I get some processed American, or at least Swiss. That man who hired me is so unpatriotic, everyone knows that bologna is best with American! What do you say folks, am I worth a decent sandwich, or not?" The reaction was mixed, but loud, and the ladies were on his side, wanting to get their act under way. They all went back and forth for a bit, with the audience mainly voting for him to be paid with something more tasty than smelly cheese, by the end. Mainly thanks to the Rhondettes making pretend eyes at him. Max finally came out, his face fixed in a scowl. He shook a raised fist in mock menace.

  "You bum! Get off the stage and let my performers work. Or I'll limburger you so hard!" It wasn't well done, but got things going, and the second they were off the lights changed, as if it had all been planned, and the music started to play correctly. The man didn't even speak, just patting him on the back before walking away.

  The shows went on until two, with the ventriloquist, who was a grown man that worked with puppets called Benny Sims, his main character being Mongo, drew the whole thing to an end for the night. Jay had to go and close it down, but everyone seemed pleased enough, given how sloppy it had all been.

  He wasn't the only one to think so either. Max was back stage when he got there, along with everyone else. Without thinking, Jay moved toward Wendy, who'd smiled at him, her face pleasant. He got a little one armed hug from her. She didn't normally do things like that, since he tried to be a bit standoffish with her. The last thing he wanted was for Carlos to think he was trying to steal his wife. Gloria, looking like a blonde linebacker trundled over to them too, leaving Max in the center of the group of people.

  "Thanks everyone. Things were a little rough, but we can smooth that out. Let's call a two o'clock practice here tomorrow? Just a quick run through. I really appreciate you all coming in on short notice like this. Jason, I called Greg and he said that you can meet him for lunch in the second meeting room? Noon. Then we have a few acts to look at. Rhonda, Rhondettes... You're all troopers. That screw up was my fault. I was tired when I put the play list in the computer and screwed things up. It won't happen again. Gloria, perfect work. Like always. Again, thanks everyone." Then he walked away, seeming a bit like a man trying to make an escape.

  People muttered, but no one walked out, which was a good sign. It meant that they needed the work, or at least didn't feel like they were being abused too much.

  Carlos walked over looking dapper in his business suit. Not everyone got to wear a tux to work every day.

  "Jay! That was some good work. Have you eaten anything today?" There was real concern in the words, which was warranted, as it turned out.

  "Half a bagel, before I left this morning. I hear I get paid in sandwiches though, so things are looking up!"

  Benny, who'd packed things up already, gave him a dirty look and walked over.

  "Damn, are you always on then? I don't suppose I can get some help carrying things to my room? You're like the stage manager, right?" There were three big boxes, all with handles, but the man clearly didn't want to leave them there behind the curtain.

  Jason nodded, even if it wasn't exactly right. He'd been hired, and that meant doing whatever he could to make himself valuable, didn't it?

  "Close enough! Let's get that done, then get something to eat? I could change first." This got him to glance at Carlos, who nodded.

  "That's a plan. Let's all meet in twenty minutes? In the restaurant on the first floor. They still have a buffet set up for us. Max set it up."

  Everyone changed, and he helped get Benny to his room, which was only three doors away from his own. That meant, by hurrying and scrubbing a bit more roughly than normal, he wasn't too late. Hobo makeup was just lighter than the full face kind. Easier to remove.

  So, pink faced and tired he got into the restaurant, and settled next to Benny and one of the Rhondettes. The ventriloquist was flirting with her pretty outrageously, but she was giving as good as she got. Her name was Micki, which he tried to remember, placing the name to the face and repeating it several times in his head. Then he tried to do the rest of them, after getting his plate of food. It was good, but he barely noticed it. Mainly because everyone started complaining almost instantly. Well, not everyone. Wendy was fine, just eating a salad without dressing, and Carlos munched small portions of a more well rounded plate of food, but the rest seemed bitter suddenly.

  Rhonda complained about her music, her voice slightly angry. "That shouldn't have happened. Even a high school production would have better sound tech tha
n this place. The lights were good, but that bull with Joey shouldn't have been needed at all. Not that you didn't save my tush out there. I was about to quit, and I actually need this job."

  Micki smiled, "our tushes, plural. It's good to see a pro at work like that. Not that it excuses that mess. First day though, so like the man said, we can fix it." That was nearly positive, compared to what everyone else did next. Which was whine and complain, mainly at him, since he was sort of like someone important now.

  Rather than complain back, he ate, and listened to what was being said. Benny was the worst, being that he wanted a personal assistant to help with his gear, a free pass for a massage in the salon, which was a thing that Jay didn't even know they had there, and some of that cocaine that Max had mentioned earlier. When he finally wound down, Jason tilted his head.

  "I'll ask about an assistant, and help you move things myself for now, so you won't be stuck. I'll look into the massages, for everyone, since that could be a cool perk. As for drugs... No. I won't help with that. No judgments, but I've had problems with booze and even drugs are too tempting for me. So you get the drill there, if you want that kind of thing, either get it yourself or don't do it." That would have to be in the morning, since he'd been up for nearly a day already. Yawning he explained, and then stood, to get to bed. It was going to be an early day, after all. For him at least.

  Jason didn't have an alarm, but the clock in the room did, so he set it for nine-thirty, hoping to get six hours of honest sleep. The bed was soft, and even the idea that hundreds or thousands of others had used it, probably for things he didn't want to consider really, didn't faze him at all. What were hotels for, if not to sleep in the filth of strangers? Life on the street had cured him of any squeamishness that his middle class upbringing had left him anyway. You did what you had to.