The Traveling Woman

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  As soon as Kes opened the door, an older man in a suit looked up expectantly.

  “Good afternoon! How may I help you folks today?”

  “Hi, I’m Kestrel Hawkins. I’m here to see Mr. Marquez.”

  “That’s me! Good to meet you. And is this lovely lady your wife?”

  “Girlfriend,” Kes said, putting his arm around me.

  “Aimee Andersen,” I smiled, holding out my hand.

  “Ah yes, of course,” Mr. Marquez said smoothly as we shook hands. “I have the paperwork prepared for you. I hope the property was to your satisfaction.”

  “It was a shithole,” Kes said easily, making me smile. “We’ll take it.”

  Mr. Marquez looked a little confused, but showed us into a tiny office with two chairs crammed in for guests. He pushed some paperwork across the desk and handed Kes a pen.

  “If you could just sign where it says ‘signature,’ please.”

  Kes scowled, and I hurriedly scanned the page, finding the right place and pointing it out to him.

  If Mr. Marquez noticed anything odd, he didn’t say mention it.

  “And if you could sign as well, please, Miss Andersen,” he said.

  “Me?”

  “Why, yes,” and he looked at Kes. “I understood that the property was to be in both names?”

  “That’s right,” Kes said, handing me the pen.

  I took it, totally stunned.

  “You sign here, Aimee,” said Kes, smiling teasingly at me and pointing to the space next to his own signature.

  I put the pen down without signing.

  “Could you give us a moment, please?” I asked.

  Mr. Marquez looked surprised, but left the room and closed the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Kes asked.

  “I can’t sign this,” I said.

  “Why not? I thought you liked it?”

  “Kes, it’s too much!” I explained.

  He folded his arms across his chest, a familiar, stubborn look on his face.

  “You give up your whole life, your job and your friends to travel with me, and you think a shitty log cabin on a crappy piece of land is too much? Just sign the fucking paper, Aimee.”

  I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

  “You have a dirty mouth, you know,” I snapped.

  A slow smile spread across Kes’s face, and he leaned in closely, his warm breath brushing goose bumps across my neck.

  “You love my dirty mouth—you love what it can do to you when I lay you down on my bed and . . .”

  “Okay!” I yelped, casting an embarrassed look toward the door. “But are you sure? I mean, this is a lot of money and . . .”

  Kes looked bored. “Just fucking sign, Aimee.”

  “Fine,” I huffed, writing my name with a flourish.

  “You can kiss me now,” he said with a wink, “and you can thank me later.”

  I touched his cheek with my finger. “Thank you,” I said, pressing my lips against his. “I love you.”

  A soft tapping on the door interrupted us.

  “Everything okay in there folks?” Mr. Marquez asked, poking his head around the door.

  “Yeah,” said Kes standing up. “All signed.”

  “Marvelous!” said Mr. Marquez. “I’ll just need to take a 10% downpayment from you.”

  Kes handed over his credit card in silence. I winced, dreading to think how much this was costing Kes.

  “I’ll get the paperwork started and send it to your lawyer after Thanksgiving,” said Mr. Marquez. “Congratulations on your new home. I hope you’ll be very happy there.”

  We shook hands and left the office, proud owners (almost) of 200 acres of scrubby land with a falling-down log cabin and a millionaire’s view. Kes held my hand and grinned at me.

  And I couldn’t help wondering, How did I get to be so lucky?

  “I was thinking,” I said, as we waited for the pre-flight checks at Arcata’s miniature airfield.

  “Sounds dangerous,” Kes smirked.

  “Ha ha. I might die laughing. Oh wait, nope, not yet. Seriously, we can build anything on that land?”

  “Pretty much. I guess there’ll be planning regs, but I asked that Marquez guy to check into it, and my lawyer did some searches, as well. We should be okay. Why, what did you have in mind?”

  “It’s just an idea . . .”

  Kes smiled at me and raised an eyebrow. “Still listening . . .”

  “Okay, okay! It’s just . . . you know what you said about Zach and Ollo and the guys being family?”

  “Yeah?” he said uncertainly.

  “Well, what if we built like a mini commune or something? Like a main house with three or four log cabins around it. Zach could have one, and we could build an adapted cabin for Ollo; there’d be another one for the guys, and maybe one for guests so Jen and Dylan could stay, and your brother when he’s visiting your mom. I mean, I have no idea how much it would all cost, but I could get a job to help. It would be kind of nice, don’t you think?”

  Kes’s grin grew wider as I spoke, and then he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug.

  “That is a fucking awesome idea,” he said. “Not sure about having a cabin for the guys because I see enough of those fuckers the rest of the year.”

  I could tell he was teasing.

  “You really think we could do it?”

  “Whatever makes you happy, baby.”

  “But will it make you happy?” I persisted.

  Kes shrugged. “I’ve already got everything I want,” and he kissed my hair.

  “Aw, you’re turning into such a sap, you know that, right?”

  Kes laughed. “I thought I was being romantic. Women are supposed to like that shit!”

  “We do!” I grinned at him.

  The pilot interrupted to tell us that the plane was ready. I climbed in and fastened my seatbelt.

  It was too noisy to talk on the way back, but the idea kept playing in my mind. I wanted to give Kes his carnival family, and I wanted to make a home for him—for us. Balancing everything would be tricky, but I was sure we could make it happen. I felt guilty at the thought of spending his money on building a house when I couldn’t contribute. It made me even more determined to find a job that I could do online.

  It was late when we arrived back at the fairground, but Kes had one more surprise in store.

  “Take a ride with me?” he said, pointing to the Ferris wheel.

  “I’d love to!”

  I was brimming with happiness, my emotions overflowing from a day of drama, joy and pain.

  The line wasn’t long, but Kes still walked to the front, ignoring the irritated comments of people waiting patiently.

  “Donohue,” the hard-faced carnie greeted Kes.

  “Ride on the Eli for two,” Kes said, giving some complicated handshake.

  The carnie stared at me for a moment, nodded, then stopped the bucket in front of us, and we climbed in.

  “ ‘Eli’?” I questioned.

  Kes glanced at me, smiling. “Gotta learn the lingo, baby. ‘Eli’ is what we call the Ferris wheel. Ollo said they’re named for the Eli Bridge Company, because they made the earliest portable wheels.”

  He settled his arm around me as our bucket moved forward.

  “Even when the ride is permanent, we still call them Eli’s.”

  I snuggled against him, happy for his solid warmth against the cooler night air.

  The giant wheel turned slowly, raising us higher and higher. The lights of the town shone below us, the grid pattern of roads marked out by the streetlights, the darker area to the west, the parkland and hills. On the horizon, a gleam of orange like a rising sun, marked the city of Los Angeles.

  “I used to feel like I could see the whole world from the top of the Ferris wheel,” I said softly. “It still seems magical to me.”

  Kes pulled me tighter against his body. “I promised myself that if you came
back with me, I’d kiss you at the top of the Ferris wheel,” he said, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Can I kiss you, Aimee Andersen?”

  His eyes were so dark and serious, all I could do was nod.

  He lowered his face to mine, his lips brushing softly against the corner of my mouth, my cheek, my temple.

  I sighed as he found my lips again, our mouths melding together, tongues weaving and dancing with each other.

  I could feel the need building in him, but then he pulled back, keeping the kiss soft and sweet.

  “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he said, resting his forehead against mine.

  “I’m not just here,” I whispered. “I’m home.”

  The fairground was opening early for Thanksgiving. It didn’t usually get into its stride until the afternoon, but today everyone was up and about early.

  Almost everyone.

  I woke with Kes’s warmth surrounding me, pinned to the mattress by his heavy arm, his face buried in my hair. I stretched and his arm tightened around me.

  “Best day,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

  I smiled to myself. Each morning that I’d woken up in California, Kes had started every day with those words. It made me feel wanted. It made me feel loved.

  He shifted his hips, his usual morning wood pressing against my ass. Then I felt his warm lips kissing down my neck and I sighed with pleasure. Best day and best way to start the day.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Kestrel,” I whispered, as his weight pressed me into the bed.

  Not long after, we lay together, our bodies slick with sweat, my thighs sticky, panting as our hearts slowed from a gallop. Outside, I could hear voices calling to each other, the sounds of the carnies going about their morning chores. Zef and Tucker were rattling around in the kitchen, and I knew we had to leave our comfortable cocoon.

  “We have to get up,” I whispered.

  “Fuck that! It’s a holiday,” Kes complained.

  “You hate sleeping late,” I laughed.

  “Who said anything about sleeping?”

  “Again?” I asked, my voice incredulous.

  Kes didn’t reply; he didn’t need to—his body answered for him.

  Then Tucker banged on the door. “Get your ass moving, Ron Jeremy. We’ve got set-up to do.”

  “Fuck off!” Kes yelled, but Tucker banged on the door again.

  Kes vaulted off the bed and reached the door in two strides, his thick cock bouncing as he moved.

  He yanked the door open and without saying a word, punched Tucker, slammed the door and leapt back onto the bed.

  “Fuckin’ rude,” he said.

  I had to stop myself from laughing because the look on Kes’s face told me it was a serious matter.

  We managed to get up eventually. Zef was sitting playing on the X-Box, and Tucker was nursing a cup of coffee and a swollen lip when I walked into the living area.

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” I said brightly.

  Zef waved and Tucker scowled at me. I couldn’t blame him for being pissed.

  A few minutes later Kes walked in.

  “Mornin,’” he growled.

  “Fuck me! He’s joining the Marines!” Zef laughed.

  I turned around and blinked in surprise. Kes had shaved his hair off, leaving just a short fuzz a quarter of an inch long. He looked beautiful, but diamond-hard, and I knew the edges could be sharp.

  “That’s different,” I said.

  Kes shrugged. “It was getting in the way.”

  I ran my hands over his head, stroking the soft fur. Kes’s eyes closed and I swear he purred.

  “You know, it’s kind of sexy,” I said.

  I heard Tucker groan with annoyance.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” Kes rumbled against my neck.

  “No!” Tucker yelped. “Biggest gig of the year! Set-up! Work to do! Any of this ringing any freakin’ bells?”

  “Yeah, we should get going,” Zef said evenly.

  At the same moment, Zach and Ollo arrived to walk over to the racetrack, so Kes left reluctantly, snagging a slice of my toast as he went.

  While the guys went to oversee the placement of the ramps, talk to the tech team and go through a practice run, I wandered around the fairground. Even though it was just after nine o’clock, the lines to get in were long, stretching back toward the parking areas.

  The midway was buzzing, and I felt the same excitement as the kids who shrieked happily, and the teens who wanted to look bored but just couldn’t help enjoying themselves, becoming children again.

  The rides were going full tilt, especially the scary ones with names like G-Force and Evolution that threw you around, spun you upside down and shook you like a blender. There was a carousel, of course, beautiful and old-fashioned in a Venetian style. But as well as horses to ride on, there were tigers, zebras and even giraffes.

  I nodded to the team running the Super-G slides, and waved at the surly-looking man who ran the shooting gallery, surprised when he gave a quick wave back.

  I smiled at the college students who’d been hired to dress up as blue-skinned aliens from Avatar, as well as popular cartoon characters. I paused to watch some acrobats who were good, but ordinary compared to the things Kes could do. I might be biased, but I was being truthful as well. And then I couldn’t resist wandering over to the petting zoo, and stroking the lambs and baby rabbits, watching the llamas and goats being fed.

  Even at this early hour, the food vendors were doing great business. It wasn’t just hotdogs and cotton candy, but also burgers, fries, funnel cakes, chili dogs, waffle cones, corndogs, soft pretzels, caramel corn, deep fried candy bars and twinkies, candied apples, gelato, and because it was California, frozen yogurt, plus dairy-free and sugar-free ices.

  I breathed in the scents, soaked up the noise and excitement. It was real and it wasn’t; it was a series of carefully planned illusions, but the joy it created existed. Maybe magic happens when you let it.

  There was a different vibe at the Pomona Fairground compared to the carnival we’d traveled with last summer. Here, it was less of a family and more of a large club. There were too many people here to get to know everyone, although I didn’t doubt for a second that they all knew Kes. After all, he was the star attraction, even if you wouldn’t have known it from the way he behaved with everyone. But just like during the summer circuit, everyone wanted to be his friend and was drawn to him.

  I glanced at my watch, shocked to see how much time I’d spent just wandering around, lost in a world of color and wonder. Yes, it felt like home.

  I hurried back to the RV and threw together a quick lunch for the guys.

  They were all in good spirits and Kes was almost bouncing off the walls. He acted like he was high before a show, but all he needed was the thrill of performing, the thrill of a crowd.

  I knew for a fact that Kes had never even smoked a cigarette, let alone taken drugs. I couldn’t speak for Zef and Tucker, although neither of them did more than drink an occasional beer around him. After what happened to his mom, Kes was militant about what he put in his body.

  After lunch, Kes and the guys left to do a final run-through of the show. I could have stayed to watch, but the thought of seeing them throwing themselves through the air gave me chills. I found it easier to watch when I was surrounded by a crowd of people.

  I told Kes that I’d save it for a live show because I needed to start cooking if we were going to have any food at all for Thanksgiving.

  The guys’ show was scheduled for 5PM because they’d found that it gave those families who wanted to, enough time to eat first then drive to the fairground. It meant that our own meal would be in the evening, but I didn’t mind that. And I really did have a lot of work to do. My mom would have been aghast that the meal prep wasn’t already taking place. She’d be up at 4AM on Thanksgiving, and the stuffing and vegetables taken care of the night before.

  “What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?” I asked Zach.r />
  I’d recruited him to help me with preparations while the guys were doing final checks. Ollo was supposed to be helping too, but he’d mysteriously disappeared.

  Zach shrugged. “Pizza, beer and poker.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure! Kes is the best cook, but he told us to go fu— uh, to forget it if we thought he was going to spend all day cooking.”

  He looked at me sheepishly, but I just smiled at him.

  “It’s okay, Zach—I like cooking. And you guys have been so great, I don’t mind doing this. It’ll be fun. The oven’s kind of small though . . .”

  “It’ll be awesome, Aimee,” he said reassuringly. “It already smells fantastic in here. I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.”

  I shook my head, smiling at him. “I want to contribute.”

  Zach frowned. “You do contribute: every day! You have no idea what a fuck-up Kes used to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zach hesitated.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” I said quietly. “I know there were . . . women . . . lots of them. Kes told me.”

  Zach gave me a sad smile. “It wasn’t just that—he wasn’t happy. He’d be depressed one minute and almost manic the next. And with Sorcha, there was always this tension. It was tiring being around them, even though we were only on the same circuit for a few weeks. Their fights were epic.” Zach shook his head. “It wasn’t a lot of fun. I have no idea how Zef and Tucker put up with it.”

  “Beer and women,” I answered crisply.

  Zach nodded. “Yeah, sounds about right. But they’re happier now, too. It’s better when things are calm. That’s why the summer tour was so good.”

  He stopped chopping long enough to give me a hug.

  “Are you getting sappy on me, too?” I laughed.

  Zach grinned. “Is Kes getting sappy?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny. But there is something else . . .” I said shyly. “When we were up in Arcata Bay, Kes showed me the log cabin where he spent winter breaks when he was a little boy and, um, he’s going to buy it . . . so we can build a house.”

  Zach smiled at me, but didn’t say anything.

  “You knew!” I accused.

  He held up his hands, still grinning at me. “Yeah, I made the phone calls so the paperwork could happen, but the idea was all his. He was like a man possessed when he came back from New Hampshire—he was prepared to move mountains, pay any amount of money, to get that land.”