by Emmy Grace
And, of course, like always, it makes me want to laugh. I don’t know why his discomfort amuses me so much, but there’s no question that it does.
“It won’t be as bad as you think. Actually,” I say to reassure him, “it might be really cool.”
Air hisses out from Liam’s flared nostrils. “I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this crap.”
“Because you’re as determined to get justice for victims as I am.”
“I’ve been that way for years and never once has it brought me to a circus where I’m expected to let a deranged female throw sharp objects at my head.”
Deranged female?
Well.
I give him a toothy grin. “Maybe not, but I bet many have wanted to.”
He jacks up one eyebrow. “You just keep those impulses under control. Think you can do that?”
“I’ll certainly try,” I say sweetly.
Too sweetly.
“And try not to hit flesh.”
“Oh, stop worrying. That’s what stitches are for,” I say glibly as I walk into the clearing ahead of him.
I smile the whole way.
To one side of the area is the wheel. There are other people back here, spread out as they practice their crafts. The contortionists are stuffing themselves into boxes while the strong man lifts an absurd amount of weight, and a portable fire pit closer to the wheel boasts a few metal sticks in it. I assume those are for Allanda.
I can just imagine how the ad for such a purpose must’ve read.
For the girl who will swallow anything, why not give her fire this year?
Many of the artists probably practice inside, like the flyers and the lion tamer. I doubt they’d be able to safely conduct their acts out in nature. At least not without someone breaking their neck and being eaten.
Speaking of people breaking their necks, Allanda comes strolling past us. She’s obviously changed clothes. Probably for Liam’s benefit. Now, she’s wearing a studded leather bikini and black furry boots that stop just below the knee. The heels are six inches tall if they’re a centimeter.
If Satan were Hugh Hefner, this is what he’d want his bunnies to look like.
I might hate her a little bit right now.
“Think of a theme yet?” she asks as she passes, her hips moving dramatically from right to left as she walks.
“As a matter of fact, we have,” I blurt. I know I’m probably one step away from stomping my foot and saying Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but she doesn’t seem to have any problem getting under my skin. And all she has to do is show up. Or breathe.
“Oh?” Her brows are raised in question.
She doesn’t seem the least bit threatened by me. If anything, she’s nice and pleasant, which is how I should be acting. Not like a spoiled toddler that doesn’t want to share.
Even though I absolutely do not want to share.
“Yes. I have a cat that does a trick with me.”
“I can’t wait to see.”
“She just isn’t here yet. I thought we’d practice without her first.”
“Okay. But you should really practice your entire routine as much as you can before your first show. Stage fright is no joke.”
I don’t tell her that I had my experience with public performances during my last escapade, when I had to reenact a dance scene from one of my favorite movies. With a real movie star. I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to show her up, but it was kind of a big deal.
Okay, maybe not to anyone else. And maybe not at the time. But in retrospect, it was pretty cool
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I wait until she has swished herself out of earshot before I turn to Liam. “I’ll call Regina and see if she can bring Lucy-fur over here.”
“It’s not bad enough that you’re going to let a cat crawl on you while you throw knives at me, but that cat’s name is Lucifer? You’re out of your mind.”
“It’s Lucy dash fur. Fur like her coat.”
“I don’t care how you spell it. You named your cat after the devil and now you want to involve her in this insane stunt?”
“She’s not that bad.” Liam stares at me with enough cynicism to choke me and the cat. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”
“Because that’s never bit me in the a—”
“Hey, Mr. Negative, when have things ever not worked out?”
He doesn’t respond for a couple of really long minutes. But then, finally, he sighs with all the theatrics of Regina and agrees. “Fine. Tell her to bring the cat. I have a feeling we won’t be here very long anyway. Might as well make the time count.”
I smile my widest, most encouraging smile. “It’s going to feel great to prove you wrong, Uri.”
Liam just grunts.
As usual.
I don’t know what gets into me when it comes to pushing Liam’s buttons, but I just can’t seem to help myself, which is why I add in a sing-song voice, “Uri Uri quite contr-uri.”
I snort.
He grunts again and then mumbles, “Lame.’
I shrug, unperturbed.
I amuse myself. That’s all that matters.
I dial Regina’s number, but she doesn’t pick up. I hold the phone away from my hear and stare at it like it gave me a wet willy. “Huh.”
“What’s huh?”
“She didn’t answer.”
“Is that so unusual?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. It is.”
“Maybe she had something going on today. A meeting or something with work. Or maybe she’s on the toilet.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. Who doesn’t take their phone into the bathroom?”
“Uh, normal people.”
“Says the guy who growls at perfect strangers.” I dial her number once more, but get the voice mail again. I feel Liam’s eyes on me, so I make no comment. I just glare at my phone until another idea occurs to me. “Miss Haddy!”
I dial her number. “Hi, Miss Haddy. It’s Lucky.”
“Hi, sugar pie. How are you this fine day?”
“I’m great, thank you. Miss Haddy, is there any way I could trouble you for a quick favor?”
I explain my need.
“I wish I could, but Malcolm isn’t here right now. It takes him a coon’s age to get ready for church.” Church! I completely forgot it’s Sunday. I bet I won’t be able to reach anyone to help. “And besides that, I’m allergic. My face would swell up and turn as red as a baboon’s butt if I handled that cat.”
That’s an interesting visual.
“Okay. No problem at all. I just thought I’d ask.”
“Why don’t you just run home and get it?”
“We’re supposed to be practicing and Lucy, well…” I turn aside in hopes that Liam won’t hear this part. “She gets a little temperamental when I try to take her somewhere. She pouts for days and I really need her to be agreeable. So, if someone else brings her, I’ll be the hero who saves her. She’ll just be happy to see me and all will be well.”
“What do you need a cat for anyway? I thought you were doing an act with knives?”
“I am, but we needed something special.”
“You’re throwing knives at a cat? I don’t think many folks will enjoy seeing that,” she says disapprovingly.
“Lord, no! I would never. I’m throwing knives at Liam. Lucy’s just going to help me. Sort of. It’s a long story. Anyway, I gotta go, Miss Haddy. Give my love to Malcolm.”
She agrees and we hang up.
“Love to Malcolm? Since when are you two that close?”
“Since never. It just popped out.”
“Popped out? Are you familiar with the concept of thinking before speaking? Have you even heard the term ‘self-control’?”
I shift my weight onto one foot, assuming my defensive posture. “I swear, Liam Dunning, you’re the most critical, skeptical person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
“You r
ealize that most people just call that sane and rational, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Help me think. I need someone to get the cat.”
“Mrs. Stephanopoulos?”
I quickly dial her number, but it just rings and rings and rings. “Gah! She probably already left for church or something, too.” I let my head drop back onto my shoulders. “What am I going to do?”
“There is one person you could call. She’d probably help, but…”
My head snaps up. “You can’t mean…”
Liam shrugs. “Desperate times and all that.”
My lips curve up into a sweet, sweet smile. “You know, you could go get her and bring her back here.”
“I’m not going to get your cat and wake up that crazy band you’ve got going on in your house.”
“Why not?”
“Number one, I don’t even want the cat here at all. Why should I be the one to go get him? Number two, I don’t want the thing mad at me either. I am the target after all. I say we come up with something else.”
“Like what?”
We both lapse into silence for what seems like an eternity.
Liam finally suggests, “Just call her.”
My lips thin in dread. “Only if you promise to split the cost.”
Cost, in this case, undoubtedly means something humiliating since the person in question is Felonious, the teenaged hacker-slash-torturer of Salty Springs. She won’t take money. She just makes you do awful and embarrassing things for information.
“We’ll see.”
I make a sound of frustration, but still I wake my phone and punch in the number.
Felonious answers on the first ring. “Maybe I should start charging you actual money. A girl could get rich off of you.”
“I’d much rather pay with that kind of currency.”
“But I wouldn’t enjoy it nearly as much,” she admits, a smile coloring her voice. “What do you need this time?”
“This is a different sort of favor.”
For the first time since “meeting” her, I hear hesitation. “What kind of favor?”
“Would you go to my house and bring my cat to the circus?”
A pause. “Well, I gotta give you points for creativity. I’ll probably never hear a question like that again.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“Is the cat mean?”
My desire to be honest wars with my need to have this girl’s help. That’s why I go with something that’s not quite the truth and not quite a lie. “She’s spirited, but she won’t hurt you.”
Please, God, don’t let her scratch Felonious.
Another pause. “All right. I’ll do it. But you’ll owe me big. I don’t make a habit of doing stuff like this for people.”
“I won’t tell a soul you’re doing it or what you look like.”
“You won’t know. I’ll come in disguise. You wouldn’t recognize me.”
“Even if I did, I’d never rat you out.”
“I know you won’t. You’ve seen me before and had no clue who I was. I’m sure this time won’t be any different.”
I’ve seen Felonious?
How very curious. I search every face in every memory that I can conjure since the day I arrived in Salty Springs. Admittedly, that’s not as many as I’d like. I probably need to start taking gingko biloba or something.
I scan every mental picture that pops into my head. I’ve seen a few teenaged girls here and there, but I would never have guessed one of them to be this diabolical genius child.
“See you in a few minutes then?”
“You might.”
And then she hangs up.
Liam looks at me in askance. “Well?”
“She’s bringing the cat.”
“What’s she making you do?”
“Making us do,” I clarify. “And I have no idea.”
Liam crosses his arms over his chest. “This should be interesting.”
Indeed, it should.
11
“Let’s at least get into position while we wait,” I suggest, heading toward the wheel resting on its stand near a back corner of this particular grassy area.
“Don’t miss!” Liam practically snarls. But even so, he goes right to it, steps up onto the base, and grips the handles that are meant to help him hold on if and when he spins. “Or I’ll climb down off this thing and throttle you,” just loud enough for me to hear.
I can’t help laughing. He’s complaining and threatening, yes, but he’s still doing it. He’s still going to let me throw actual knives at his actual body.
Liam the grouch is a pretty brave guy.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Maybe you should try it the first time without me moving. Or without me here at all.” When he starts to get down, I stop him.
“No, stay put. We’ll do a practice round with you stationary.”
I walk back a few paces, away from Liam and the wheel, and then turn to face him. I figure I’m about the same distance I was from Jon Bon Jovi’s delicious likeness.
I set my case on the ground and take the knives out, hefting one and then flipping it up in the air and catching it. “Don’t move.”
“I probably won’t even breathe until this is over with,” he mutters glibly.
In quick succession, I fire off knife after knife, sticking them in the wood above Liam’s head, at his shoulders, at his waist and one between his legs.
That’s the only one he blinks for.
He’s a typical man in that way. He has no desire for his family jewels to meet the business end of a sharp object.
I see his chest fall as he exhales.
My walk is all kinds of sassy as I make my way toward him to retrieve my knives. My grin is wide and proud and satisfied, and for good reason.
I did it!
And didn’t nick an artery.
Ha! Take that Grouchy Pants!
“Feel better?” I’m gloating. I can’t help it. At least I’m not doing a touchdown dance and hollering like a lunatic.
Although I really want to.
Liam steps off the wheel and shakes out his limbs. Every muscle was probably braced for a puncture wound. “Marginally.”
“Told ya I could do it. Maybe you’ll start trusting me now.”
“It’ll be a long time before I trust you, woman. You get into too much trouble.”
I ignore the woman part of the comment and shrug. I can’t really argue the trouble thing. It’s true.
“I think my prowess deserves a reward. How about you treat me to dinner at Ann-n-Ann’s tonight after this audition is over?”
Ann-n-Ann’s is owned and run by twin redheads, LouAnn and SueAnn Beasley. It’s the only diner in Salty Springs. And that’s not a bad thing. The food is great, so there isn’t much room for competition.
“Getting tired of your attempts at cooking?” Liam asks with a twitch of his lips.
“My cooking is fine. It’s not my fault you have dysfunctional taste buds and a woman-like constitution.”
“There’s nothing woman-like about me. Anywhere. And my taste buds were fine until I had dinner at your place.”
I hate that my brow drops down into a frown. That stings. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Surprisingly, Liam actually backtracks a little. “Okay, it wasn’t that bad.”
“That’s not what it sounds like.”
“I was just teasing, Lucky.”
“You play rough.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Since when?”
“I never do. You’re just…”
“Just what?”
“You’re so happy and…unflappable. I forget that you have other feelings.”
“I do have other feelings,” I assure him. “I have all of them.”
Liam steps closer to me, his tone gentle. “Then I’m sorry I hurt any of them.”
“It’s okay,” I reply in a small voice.
> A very small voice.
He did hurt my feelings a little, but it’s possible that I might just be milking it now. I mean, it’s not like Regina and my adopted mother and grandmother, Momma Leona and Beebee, haven’t told me this before. About my cooking, I mean. But for some reason, it makes a bigger dent in my heart when Liam says it, so I feel like a bit of emotional payback is in order.
Hence the guilt trip.
Shameless, I know, but he’s surly. He can take it.
“Lucky?” comes a voice from behind me.
I turn to find Jonah standing behind me, holding a black cat. And by the way she jumps straight into my arms, I know it’s my black cat.
“Oh! Hi, Lucy,” I croon, stroking her soothingly. “How did you get her?”
He shrugs. “Some guy came through to the back and said to give it to you.”
“A guy?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he look like?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Just a guy.”
“Describe him.”
“Short, black hair. Thin moustache. Skinny. Looked young, though. Too young for that much facial hair. With the way he was built, I wouldn’t think he’d even grown into his ’nads yet.”
“Maybe he hasn’t.”
“Friend of yours?” he asks.
“You could say that.”
Felonious.
That sly girl.
“What do you need a cat for?”
“She’s part of my act. I…she was at the vet getting her shots.”
I’m a terrible liar. Have I mentioned that?
Jonah doesn’t seem to notice, though. “Well, there you go.” He moves off to one side and plunks down in the grass. “Don’t mind if I stay and watch, do you?”
His admiring eyes are fixed on me.
“Yes, she minds,” Liam answers.
“No, she doesn’t,” I counter.
“Yes, she does.” He looks hard at me. “She needs to concentrate.”
I take a moment to consider this. “He’s probably right, Jonah. I’ll just see you later.”
He gets up and dusts off his pants. “You most definitely will.”
He holds my gaze until he’s several feet away.
When I turn, Liam is shaking his head. “Catnip.”
“You’re just jealous.”
He’s quick to deny the playful accusation. “I’m not jealous. He’s just a kid.”
