Lucky and the Crushed Clown

by Emmy Grace

  Allanda pushes her puffy bottom lip into a pout. “That’s a shame. You don’t know what you’re missing.” She gently sways her shoulders back and forth like a little sex kitten.

  Speaking of kittens, I suppose it wouldn’t be prudent for me to scratch her eyes out.

  Pity.

  I never guessed that my one foray into the circus might put me in desperate need of anger management. Let’s just hope I don’t also need a good attorney.

  9

  Liam is wrestling the enormous wooden wheel on its stand to the end of the trailer. I’m of little help. This is one of those brute force kinds of things. Mr. Grouchy seems more than up to the task, though. Although his muscles are clearly bunched and working, he moves the monstrosity with surprising ease.

  I startle when I nearly back into something. When I jerk around, I see that it’s a someone.

  It’s the guy from the stilts.

  Minus the stilts.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I say by way of greeting.

  “No big,” he replies. “You can run into me any time.” His soft greenish eyes are alight with masculine appreciation. Age doesn’t seem to matter when it comes to my lucky charm. Only gender.

  All males are subject to it.

  Except, of course, for Liam Dunning.

  I smile and stick out my hand. “My name is Lucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He takes my hand and shakes it for longer than is necessary. “Jonah. The pleasure is all mine.”

  He grins, and one thing I know for sure is that girls closer to his age had better watch out! This guy is probably dangerous to young ovaries.

  Even though Jonah makes his living walking around on stilts, he’s got this cocky, flirtatious, slightly bad boy thing going on. With his dark blond hair and light eyes, he almost reminds me of James Dean—snug white tee, faded blue jeans, wiry muscles. He’s even taken it a step further with an earring in one lobe and an abundance of tattoos. All he’s missing is a cigarette and a leather jacket.

  “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?” I say it with zero malice. More an observation than anything else.

  “Trust me, I’ve got good reason.”

  Good Lord! If I had a daughter, I’d move her one state away from him.

  Minimum.

  “You helping or getting out of the way, kid?” Liam isn’t swayed by Jonah’s charm. In fact, he looks mildly irritated by it.

  Then again, Liam looks mildly irritated by most things, like me.

  And sunshine.

  And air.

  “Sure, I’ll help.” Jonah sends me a wink. “Excuse me, beautiful.”

  I want to tell him not to waste his time, but I don’t. He wouldn’t understand, and it would probably only make a guy like him try harder. Egos are strange and fragile things.

  “No rush. We appreciate your help.”

  Jonah helps Liam heft the wheel down to the ground. He seems surprisingly strong.

  What is it with the men around here? None of the guys I dated back in Louisiana were this kind of strong and capable. They were more like useless playboys. Not that those are my type. It just happened that I was young and gullible, and then I got in a bad habit.

  “I hear you two will be doing an act,” says Jonah.

  “Yep. Knife throwing.”

  “Will you be spinning in that?” He nods at my outfit—the short skirt and the flattering bustier. I’m sure he’s wondering what might pop out or be revealed if I’m turned upside down whilst wearing it.

  Naughty, naughty.

  “I won’t be spinning at all. He will.” I nod at Liam.

  Jonah glances around in surprise. “Never seen a guy on the wheel. Isn’t that kinda like being the sub?”

  Sub.

  As in submissive.

  Liam a submissive?

  Fat chance of that!

  Liam might be many things, but submissive is not one of them.

  Color blooms in Liam’s lean cheeks. It’s like watching mercury rise in a thermometer.

  I’m literally seeing Liam’s temper flare.

  “Kid, lemme tell you something. If you don’t know in the first five minutes of being around me that I’m no sub, then you don’t know what a sub is. Maybe you should stick to references in your age bracket.”

  Jonah throws up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man. No offense.”

  To this, Liam growls and looks toward me. “Where does this thing go?”

  Allanda chooses that exact moment to return. I wasn’t even aware she’d left. I was too distracted by watching Liam maneuver heavy objects and then become flustered by a veritable toddler.

  “I’m back. Sorry.” She smiles at Liam. “Nice job. Come on. I’ll show you where you can put that to practice.”

  I fight the urge to grumble about how she’d better only show him where to put that wheel and nothing else.

  I’m about to start off to follow them when Jonah stops me. “Why don’t you let me show you around while they get that set up?”

  “Oh, uh…” I glance over at Liam, who’s wearing his thundercloud. As usual, it kind of makes me want to giggle. Man, he’s grumpy. But in the most adorable way.

  At least that’s what I’m beginning to think.

  Allanda grabs Liam’s arm. “That’d be good, Jonah. I’ll help Uri.”

  Liam doesn’t seem to like this arrangement one bit, so I add, “I’ll meet back up with you in a few minutes. I’ll grill Jonah about life here with Fancy’s Flyers.”

  Liam only grunts, but I know he gets what I’m saying. To Jonah, I’m a new “one of them.” One of the family. Plus, he seems to like me. If I could get him to open up about the people around here, maybe spill some dirt, it could advance our efforts to solve the possible murder of Rodney by leaps and bounds.

  Jonah takes my hand and wraps it under his arm and sets it near his elbow. A very gallant and old school gesture that I find sweet. My lips curve up into a grin when we start off toward the semi-circle of tents and trailers.

  “I bet you’ve never met a girl you couldn’t talk into just about anything, have you?”

  His grin is full of mischief. “Nope. And I don’t want to start now.”

  “Uh huh,” I say with derision. “Cool your jets there, stilts boy. Let’s just see how the day goes.”

  We stroll along, more like we’re on a promenade somewhere in jolly old England rather than in a gypsy-esque settlement that smells like smoke, armpit, and the butts of various exotic animals.

  “So, tell me everything. How long have you been with the circus?”

  “My whole life. My mom was born and raised into it, so this is all I’ve ever known.”

  “Is she the tiny lady I saw you with before?”

  “Yep. That’s her. Shari is her name. She’s a flyer.”

  That explains the size. I’m sure it’s much easier for an acrobat to be caught and flung, and to spin and twirl and tumble through the air when they’re small. I can’t imagine a tall or heavy person doing it with much success.

  Unless, of course, success is spelled s-p-l-a-t.

  “So, you two have always been with Fancy’s?”

  “No. We started out with an operation out on the west coast.”

  I nod. “Does she have friends or family here?”

  “No. She followed a guy. You know how that story goes.”

  “Ah. That old tale. I guess we’ve all got one.”

  It goes without saying that mine entails more the running away from a guy rather than the running toward.

  “I don’t. Yet.” He emphasizes the word, causing me to glance up and over at him. He’s smiling down at me like the incorrigible flirt that he is.

  “Does this ever turn off? Or do you run like this all the time? The Energizer bunny of flirts?”

  “I can go all night long.”

  I roll my eyes and mutter, “Good grief,” even though I’m half laughing.

  We lapse into a comfortable silence for a
minute, and I take the opportunity to segue into polite digging.

  “So, Jonah, tell me about the folks here at Fancy’s. I’ve met Allanda and Boudreau, and you, but that’s it.”

  “That’s all you need to know,” he teases. I give him a playfully withering look and he adds, “We have a pretty typical set up, I think. Clowns and animal trainers and a bearded lady and a strong man and an exceedingly handsome guy on stilts.”

  “I’ve gathered that much.”

  “What else is there to know?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know. Tell about them as people. Does everyone get along around here? Because I want to be a part of a family.”

  I use that word because the way Allanda stressed it.

  “We all get along most of the time. Everyone knows the way things work and as long as we abide by that, there’s no trouble.”

  “That sounds perfect,” I observe. “Almost too perfect.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s always one that spoils it for the rest.”

  “Right? Who’s that person around here?”

  “It isn’t always the same one.”

  “Who was the last one to spoil it? Allanda?” I specify her because it’s less suspicious that way. It makes it seem like I’m just jealous. Which I am absolutely not.

  Not much anyway.

  “No, she’s pretty good about staying in her lane. Now her ex, though…”

  “Who was her ex?”

  “Rodney. He was the senior clown. You know, the one who…” He tips his head back toward the big top tent.

  “Oh. That was him?” I widen my eyes.

  “Yep. He was trouble if you ask me. Didn’t treat people right sometimes. No one likes that.”

  “So, he had a lot of enemies then?”

  “A fair few.”

  “Why did Allanda stay with him?”

  “Beats me. Some women have terrible taste in men.”

  “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

  “I’ve known a couple who have fallen for him. He was trash.”

  The little antennae on my radar start twitching. That sounded an awful lot like malice. Even though, to be honest, I can’t see this young man actually hurting anyone.

  “Did you ever have a run-in with him?”

  “Nah. We stayed out of each other’s way.”

  “Oh. That’s good.”

  “I think Allanda was the only one sorry to see him go, though. If she even really was.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jonah stares off into the distance, carefully avoiding my eyes. “He managed to tick her off a time or two. They split up more than once. Word around here is that she—”

  When he doesn’t continue, I prompt as gently as I can. “She?”

  “Never mind. I don’t need to fill your head with all the gossip. You’ll figure out who people are soon enough.”

  “Allanda mentioned something about Pike. Did it have something to do with him?”

  “Part of it, yeah. Pike’s a good guy, though. He’d never hurt anybody.”

  I nod, taking it all in. “Sounds like Rodney was maybe a little bit of a bully, too.”

  Jonah’s smile is small and knowing. “Oh yeah, that. He might’ve been at one time. He went to school with the strong man, George. Evidently, they had some issues back then, but not anymore. If Rodney tried to bully anybody, George would’ve whipped him.”

  “So, the pet rat thing with Pike, that was an accident?”

  “You heard about that, huh?”

  “Allanda mentioned something about it.”

  “I guess Rodney was the only one who would know that for sure.”

  “But you don’t think he’d do something like that?”

  “He was a Grade A jackhole when it came to women, but I don’t think he was the type to do something like that on purpose.”

  “Did you ever see a good side to Rodney?”

  “Once or twice,” is all he says.

  I don’t get to ask any more questions. Jonah starts introducing me to people. Some of them I saw night before last. Others are new to me. The bearded lady, the strong man, another clown and two contortionists. Several acrobats. This circus is well rounded.

  It’s as Jonah is taking me back toward the main tent that I see the elephant being led to a large dirt area. A man is with her. I can only assume it’s Pike.

  “Oh, an elephant!” I exclaim. “I love elephants.”

  I don’t have to fake my enthusiasm as I pull Jonah toward it.

  Not at all.

  I don’t wait for Pike to make the first move. I walk right up to him and extend my hand.

  “I’m Lucky, the new knife thrower. Can I pet your elephant?”

  That could go on record as the worst porn-sounding pick-up line in the history of the English language. I feel my muscles want to draw up into a cringe.

  If I could have a do-over button for phrases I wish I hadn’t uttered, I’d likely use it right this minute.

  Both guys are gracious enough not to make any comments about my request. I just dodged a bullet for sure with that one.

  I turn my attention to Pike. He’s about what I expected. Tall, handsome. Looks closer to my twenty-nine years than the twenty-six Allanda said he is.

  His blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and his face boasts almost as many piercings as his bare arms boast tattoos. He doesn’t smile. He just looks at me. His expression is dark and hooded, moody. He seems hesitant. Not in a backwards way, but maybe more a cautious way.

  Skeptical.

  Gun shy.

  When Pike doesn’t respond to my extremely bizarre request, Jonah jumps in. “Earth to Pike. Are you gonna answer her, bro?”

  Finally, he nods. “Yeah, you can pet her.”

  I turn toward the gigantic creature. “What do I do?”

  “Lola, come,” Pike barks.

  The elephant turns in that slow, lumbering way that an animal that weighs as much as an entire village of Oompa Loompas does. She takes three steps toward Pike then stops.

  “Bow,” he commands.

  The elephant painstakingly bends first one front leg then the other, and then dips her head like she’s bowing.

  “You can pet her now.”

  I glance at him once more for reassurance before I move deliberately toward the big gray hump of Lola’s head. My heart explodes with happy when I reach out to touch her ear. It twitches and that single flop is enough to generate a breeze that tickles my cheek.

  “That means she likes it.”

  “What does?”

  “When she waves her ear.”

  “You like that, Lola? What a good girl,” I croon to her as I move to stroke the broad space between her eyes. She makes a noise that’s a split between a sigh and a groan. I assume it’s a sound of pleasure.

  “You should be doing this,” Pike says.

  “Doing what?”

  “Working with the animals. You’re good with them.”

  “I love them. I think they can feel it.” A smile is curving my lips. I’m enjoying this as much as Lola, if not more.

  “They can. People think animals are dumb, but they’re wrong. They’re smart and they’re better than a lot of people. If someone ever hurt her…”

  I step away from the elephant, turning my attention to Pike. His expression is more open and, in it, I can see fierceness. Protectiveness. It wouldn’t be too hard for me to imagine him becoming enraged over someone mistreating this sweet elephant. Or another animal.

  A pet rat for instance.

  I realize with a well-hidden shiver that there’s a fifty-fifty chance I might be in the presence of Rodney’s killer.

  10

  Before I can comment, I hear my name being called in a familiarly gruff way. I pivot in the direction it came from, and I see Liam standing at the edge of one of the tents, motioning me over.

  I smile at Pike. “Looks like I need to go. Guess I’ll see you around.”

&nbs
p; He nods.

  I wave to Jonah. “Thanks for the tour. See you later.”

  “Count on it,” he says and dips his head, too.

  I jog off to meet Liam. “What’s going on?”

  “We need a theme,” he says with no small amount of irritation.

  “A theme? What kind of theme?”

  “The kind of theme that we should’ve had before now,” he gripes. “A theme for our act.”

  “Oh. I didn’t…I haven’t thought of one. I thought the knife thing was the theme.”

  “Well, you need to come up with something to add to it. Apparently, just throwing knives isn’t interesting enough.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since she told me this three minutes ago. The others had shticks. You need a shtick.”

  “What kind of shtick?”

  “A unique kind of shtick.”

  “I don’t have a shtick.”

  “Then get a shtick.”

  “First of all, we need to stop saying shtick,” I declare. “Secondly, like what were some of the others?”

  “The last one did it blindfolded. You need to do something like that, but so help me God, you are not throwing a knife at me while blindfolded.”

  “I wasn’t going to suggest that. I feel like seeing the target is fairly important,” I add snidely.

  “Especially when the target is me.”

  My mind starts racing. “What can I do to make it different?” I muse absently.

  “I don’t know, but you need to come up with it fast.”

  Physically, I’m following along where Liam leads, but mentally, I’m thinking and pondering and formulating. It’s when we pass the lion cage that an idea occurs to me. “Oh! I think I might have it.”

  Liam turns to me. His expression is one of part interest and part dread. “What?”

  “My cat, Lucy-fur, does this thing.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “Sometimes she’ll jump on my shoulder and then run down one arm, back up, and then down the other arm. I don’t know why she does it, but I could probably make that work somehow.”

  “You want your cat to run up and down your arms while you throw knives, sharp knives, at me?”

  To say Liam looks skeptical about the feasibility of this plan is much like calling the Baltic Sea a pond.