“I remember,” I said. “Kes used to do that all the time.”
“No one does this for the money, that’s for sure,” said Zachary. “Hell, not everyone even earns minimum wage, but it’s still better than saying, ‘You want fries with that?’ Some kids come for the summer and live off of Ramen Noodles, saving their money for when they go back to their lives. Some use what they earn to pay their way through college. I’ve got one Psych Major who swears he learns more here than he ever does in a classroom.”
I couldn’t help laughing—and I suspected he was right.
“I’ve seen 41 states,” Zach continued, his face relaxed, “and I plan on seeing the others one day. It’s more than the paycheck. We get to see America. Ollo says that we’re adventurers, not tourists.”
I smiled. “I like that. It’s sort of how I felt when Kes asked me to come with him: like I was about to discover a new world.”
Zachary leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Your wish is my command. Welcome to my empire,” and he gave a villainous cackle.
I pushed him away and laughed.
“Anyway,” I said, “it must be like trying to wrangle kindergarteners to get everyone set up.”
Zachary shook his head. “It looks chaotic, but it’s not. We’ve got a pretty slick system. Everywhere we go, the midway is laid out the same. Al, the ride foreman, it’s his job to place the rides in the best positions. You want visitors to see them from as far away as possible, especially in flatter country like northern Iowa. So the tall rides like the helter-skelter and Ferris wheel go at the end of the midway. That’s how you draw people down the middle and encourage them to spend as much as possible on the way to the big attractions.
“But that’s not the only reason. It can take up to 36 hours to get everything up and running and ready for those damn inspections. We get them up fast, and we can do the takedown even faster. The rides are always first to leave the lot, so they can be put up first at the next site. Last to move out are the house trailers and sleeping quarters. It also gives the wives and kids the chance for a few hours sleep before we start putting up the show in a new location.
“Right now, there are about 150 carnies on site, and more will come in the next 24 hours because it’s such a big event.”
I looked at Zach, evaluating. “Because of Kes?”
Zach smiled. “He’s a huge draw, definitely. He could earn ten times as much money sticking to the cities, but he does this for the nostalgia, I think, and to help us out. Because he pulls the crowds, it means all the guys have got a chance to make good money during the season. Kes is a carnie at heart and he’s loyal. He’d do anything for the people he cares about.”
I smiled softly. “I know.
“So, Carnival 101. There are times we do what’s called a Circus jump. That’s when we close on Sunday and open on Monday or Tuesday. Basically, we go 24 to 48 hours with no sleep and we work our asses off. You’ll see—we’ve got a few of those on this tour. So here’s a tip for the future: never visit a show that opens on Monday. Let everyone else find out which bolts they didn’t tighten on the Ferris wheel.”
“Good tip,” I breathed, cringing as Zach laughed at my expression.
“Weather is our biggest problem: could be the heat, and trying to get enough water pipes laid for everyone; sometimes it’s the rain, and the trailers getting bogged down and the shows being rained out. Then the rides need to be maintained: we carry spares of most things, but sometimes we have to order in specialist pieces. And, don’t ask me why, but carnival rides have unusual tire sizes, so it can be a pain in the ass to find replacements in a hurry. Thank God for the internet! You can order just about anything.”
“It’s some family,” I said, looking around me.
Zachary nodded, more serious now he was in work mode.
“It’s our home, so I’m careful about who can come along for the ride. I do criminal records checks for all the staff, even if they’re just seasonal. Gotta be careful with so many kids around, if you know what I mean.”
I was a teacher, so I knew exactly what he meant. The hoops we had to jump through to allow adults to help out in school could be crazy, but we always took it seriously.
“But it’s not just casual labor,” Zach explained. “You’ve got to have people who know what they’re doing for the big rides. It takes about six hours to set up the Ferris wheel, and I need a crew of seven to erect the roller coaster. It’s got 300 pieces and takes eight hours. The track sections are lifted into place by hand and held together by steel pins. Some pieces weigh more than 300 pounds. It can get dangerous.
“When we’re not operating rides or getting visitors to try the games, we still have to make sure that the concession stands have hot dogs and cotton candy, that the generators have fuel, as well as ordinary things like cook food for the family or do the laundry.”
“Do you think the attitude to carnies has shifted?” I questioned, “or are people still like my parents were?”
Zach shrugged.
“Both, I guess. There are places where we get treated like dirt. But other places we’re welcomed year after year. For some small towns, the carnival is the highlight of their summer—hell, the whole year.”
“I totally get that,” I sighed. “I only felt alive for those two weeks each summer. I used to get so excited when the trucks rolled past my house.”
Zachary smiled. “I thought that was because it meant Kes was coming.”
I laughed. “That, too. But the first time, oh it was wonderful! I was so impatient to see it all go up. But my parents were very disapproving: to hear them talk, it was Sodom and Gomorrah come to Fairmont. I would never have been allowed near the carnival if it weren’t for the fact that it was my birthday and I got to choose how we spent the day. I chose the carnival.”
Zachary frowned. “We always hit Fairmont in the summer.”
“Yes?”
“So it must be your birthday soon?”
“Oh that. I never celebrate it.”
I could see the puzzlement on Zach’s face. “Why not?”
I shrugged. “Well, as we seem to be swapping sad stories … after Kes left, I never felt like celebrating my birthday again. I associated it with being miserable, I guess.”
Zach put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a warm hug.
“It’ll be different this year, Aimee.”
I gazed around me, almost needing to pinch myself to believe that I was really here. The setting sun glinted off the Ferris wheel’s steel frame, and the sounds softened around us as pink-tinged clouds turned Camelot into a blaze of color.
“Welcome home,” said Zachary.
“Stop it!” I said, swatting his shoulder. “You’ll make my mascara run.”
“I knew I had it in me to make a woman cry,” he teased. “Come on, let’s get back to our lord and master before he accuses me of running off with you.”
He held out his arm and I took it, laughing, as we strolled back along the midway. He introduced me to everyone as, “Aimee, Kes’s friend.”
“Why are you doing that?” I asked, when he’d done it for about the fourth time.
He shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable.
“Wait! Did Kes put you up to this?”
Zach cleared his throat and looked away.
“Zachary! Tell me!”
“He just wanted everyone to know that you were protected.”
My mind flew back to the first time I’d met Kes. Dono had implied the same thing when he met my Mom.
“What does that mean? That I’m ‘protected’? Who am I protected from?”
Zach sighed. “It’s an old carnie thing. Back in the day when it was a real them and us mentality, some townspeople were good to us, so they were protected. That meant no grifting, no scams—they were safe—and all the carnies respected that.”
“Okay, I’m confused. You’ve just been telling me how traveling shows have cleaned up their acts.”
“We hav
e. Kes is putting the word out that you’re one of us.”
“You look shifty. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Jesus, Aimee! Do you work for the FBI?”
“I teach third grade—we train the FBI. Spill.”
Zachary grimaced. “He didn’t want any of the guys hitting on you, okay?”
I started to laugh. “Are you serious? Kes has put out the word that I’m, what, untouchable?”
“Don’t laugh,” smiled Zach. “He takes it very seriously.”
“Oh my God! I think I just fell through a crack in time. What century does he think we’re in?!”
“You should be flattered,” Zach whispered, a huge grin on his face. “He never told anyone that Sorcha was protected.”
My mood soured. “Yes, well, she looked like she wrestled grizzly bears in her spare time and sharpened her nails on unsuspecting lumberjacks. I’m not surprised she didn’t need protecting.”
Zachary laughed. “It’s going to be a wild ride.”
I gave his arm a squeeze. “Yes, it is.”
When we arrived back at the sleeping quarters, a large bonfire was blazing away. A group of carnies who’d just arrived came to see Zach, so he excused himself to get them situated. Tucker and Zef were chatting to a couple of the women I recognized from my brief tour. Tucker gestured for me to come over, but no one else looked welcoming, so I just waved and pointed to the RV, heading inside.
Kes was standing in the living area talking to a scary-looking man with a bald head and tattoos spiraling down his neck. Kes grinned but didn’t introduce me, and the man stared coldly.
Feeling unwelcome with Tucker and co, feeling unwelcome in the living room, I retreated to the bedroom, deciding to unpack my case for something to do. Kes’s bed filled most of the room and the cabinets were all tiny. The largest storage area seemed to be under the bed, with a narrow closet for hanging a few clothes.
But when I opened the closet door, several sparkly dresses were hanging in the space. For a happy moment, I thought Kes had bought them for me, but then I realized that these were Sorcha’s.
I was furious. Kes hadn’t even bothered to empty the closet of her clothes.
He chose that moment to walk in the door.
“You’re an asshole!” I snapped.
“I walk in the door and that makes me an asshole?”
I flung open the closet door, cracking it against the bed, and gestured wildly with my arms.
“No. That makes you an asshole!”
I would have stormed out of the room, but that would have meant crawling across the bed and tackling 200 pounds of pissed stuntman. As that didn’t seem like a sensible option, I simply stood with my hands on my hips, waiting for an explanation.
“Oh,” he said flatly.
He grabbed the clothes from the hangers, piled them into his arms and stomped out, leaving me speechless and furious.
I followed him as far as the RV’s door, then watched open mouthed as he tossed the pile onto the bonfire. A ragged cheer sounded from all around, and for a moment Kes’s eyes glittered in the firelight, the flames throwing weird shadows across his sharp cheekbones, his expression dark and devilish.
Then he prowled toward the RV, his eyes fixed on mine, and a look on his face that told me a storm was about to hit. I backed away and he slammed the door behind him, muting the laughs and catcalls that followed.
He didn’t even speak as he grabbed my hand and towed me into the bedroom, physically lifting me from my feet and tossing me onto the bed.
Then he ripped off his t-shirt and pinned me to the bed with his body, the heat pouring from his skin and through my thin blouse, heating my blood and burning my flesh.
When he kissed me with a bruising thoroughness, I thought I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Then he sat back on his heels, his eyes black in the unlit interior, and stared at me.
“She’s history. We’re not discussing this again.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
“My place. My rules.”
“Fuck that!” I yelped. “I’m not some serf you can order around! Right now I’m pissed enough to…”
His lips were on mine, then on my cheek, trailing down my neck.
“You’re not pissed,” he whispered. “You’re turned on. I know that because I want you so badly I could come in my pants right now.”
I snorted with laughter. “Wouldn’t be the first time, Kestrel.”
He smirked at me. “I know. That’s why I said it. Fuck’s sake, Aimee, I only want you. The clothes are gone.”
“Okay, fine, but there was no need to go all caveman on me.”
“I kind of got the impression that you liked that?”
“Not with an audience!” I coughed. “Not with a bunch of strangers watching!”
Kes shook his head. “They’re not strangers; they’re family.”
“Your family, maybe. But they’re strangers to me.”
He shook his head again. “You don’t get it. You’re with me—that makes them your family, too.”
A warm feeling spread me through at the idea that Kes wanted them to think of me as family. But he wasn’t off the hook either.
“And what’s with this notion of me being ‘protected’?”
He shrugged. “That’s just the way it is.”
I huffed with frustration. A huff that turned into a moan as he kissed my neck then flicked his tongue across my breastbone, dripping down into my cleavage.
I gripped his biceps then pulled him closer, sliding my hands over his satiny skin.
The feel of his erection digging into my hip made me pause.
“We can’t,” I whispered.
“Why not?” he mumbled as his hand disappeared up my t-shirt.
“Because everyone saw us come in here—they’ll all know what we’re up to.”
“So?”
“So! I’ve only just met them—it’s embarrassing!”
Kes chuckled. “No secrets between carnies, Aimee. We all live too close to each other for that. Cut one, we all bleed.”
“How sweet. But I don’t want my new family to know that we’re in here fucking, five minutes after I met them.”
“They won’t care,” he said, squeezing my nipples hard enough to make me gasp.
“I care,” I said, as my voice wobbled unconvincingly. “And there are kids out there, Kes! We can’t give them the wrong impression.”
This time he laughed loudly.
“I never knew you were such a prude!”
“I am not!”
“Jesus, Aimee! These are carnie kids. They live in trailers and RVs like us. They’ve heard their parents fucking a thousand times. They’ve seen the stallion take the mare when she’s in heat, and believe me, once you’ve seen that, every guy has performance anxiety.”
I laughed a little when he said that, but he wasn’t finished.
“Do you remember when we were kids and you asked me how I knew that Madame Cindy was Dono’s girlfriend? I heard them. I knew what sex was before I could say the word. These carnie kids are just like that. We’re not doing anything wrong, we’re not hurting anyone.”
His tone had started off light and amused, but had become more serious and insistent as he’d gone on.
“Maybe I am prudish,” I said quietly. “It was the way I was brought up. I just happen to think that making love is a private thing between two people: not a public display of your testosterone, unless you’re doing it to make that stallion blush.”
He sighed and shifted onto his back. “Did I imagine you rubbing my cock while we were laying in the field at the carnival when we were kids?”
I didn’t answer, but fiddled with the hem of my t-shirt.
“You want to wait until everyone has their backs turned, pretending that they don’t know what we’re doing in the privacy of our own home?”
“Yes, exactly.”
He turned his head to smile a
t me. “My funny girl.”
I smiled back, and he reached out to wind his long fingers around mine. He brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed them one at a time.
It was the sweetest gesture, and I fell a little more under his spell.
“Come on,” he said quietly, tugging me to my feet. “Let’s go get something to eat, and you can meet some more of your new family.”
Smiling, brimful of happiness, I followed him out of the RV. A cheer went up and someone yelled, “Four minutes and 23 seconds. Is that a record, Kestrel?”
He shot me an annoyed look as if to say, I told you so!
I couldn’t help laughing, which probably didn’t help.
We sat around the bonfire, roasting hotdogs on sticks, and from all the RVs, delicious cooking smells filled the air. Women came to our bonfire with armfuls of food: salads, cold pasta, baskets of bread, huge bags of homemade cookies. Bottles of beer were opened and loaded plates were passed around. Someone played a guitar, and the offerings poured in.
I was surprised how traditional the roles seemed to be. Zachary said it was about physical strength: guys were stronger when it came to wrestling the large pieces of machinery into place for the rides, but I thought it was more than that.
I’d so often thought of carnie folk as following an alternative lifestyle, and they were, but it had its own set of rules, too.
Everyone wanted to see Kes. All the men wanted to shake his hand, all the women wanted to kiss his cheek. Each time, he stood and greeted them by name, with a laugh and a smile for everyone and a hug for the chosen few. Each time Kes would introduce me and simply say, “This is Aimee.”
I smiled and waved, a little embarrassed to become the focus of so much attention. I saw people throwing me searching looks. They weren’t unfriendly, just questioning. No one mentioned Sorcha—at least not in front of me.
The older carnies wanted to talk about Dono and the good ole days; the younger ones wanted to talk about Kes Hawkins, stunt rider. I had a sense of the old world meeting the new, and finding some synergy in the carnival’s magical alchemy.
The Traveling Man Page 24
