by Emmy Grace
“I don’t look anything like my father,” he deadpans.
“Oh, okay.” I try to keep at least a little of the sarcasm out of my voice.
They look so much alike. Mayor William Dunning Senior is just an older version of his son. Both are dark and handsome with light eyes and strong jaws. Same height, same build. But Daddy Dunning is getting some gray sprinkled in his hair and some fine lines around his eyes and mouth. Not unattractive at all. Liam will no doubt be just as devastatingly hot when he’s a hundred. Like Sean Connery. I mean, for goodness sake, will that man ever be not hot?
No. I don’t believe he will.
But clearly Liam wouldn’t appreciate me pointing out any of this. He already knows. He just doesn’t want to think he has anything in common with the man he doesn’t like very much.
“I wonder who else knows.”
“His mother, Shari,” I say. “Obviously.”
“Ya think?” Liam mutters.
So much sarcasm.
So much.
“I just meant that she clearly knows.”
“Are you sure?”
“Like, of course she does. I just meant…”
“You just meant?”
“I mean, she knows. So, there’s one person who knows anyway. You know what I mean.” I finish in exasperation.
“Do I?”
Now he’s just needling me.
“Don’t make me punch you in your wounded leg,” I warn, only half teasing.
Liam holds a hand down at his crotch region. “Oh wait. Maybe I shouldn’t protect what you’re aiming at, because you’ll probably hit up here instead.” He slides his hand up to his chest.
I inhale in exaggerated offense. “You’re a mocker, Liam Dunning. A dirty, dirty mocker.”
His lips twitch. “So I am, Lucky Boucher.”
“Now that you’ve cleared up that Shari knew, we need to find out who else knew. Maybe it was common knowledge. I wouldn’t be surprised. The resemblance is striking.”
“When he’s not in makeup.”
“Well, I’m sure he didn’t wear it 24/7.”
“Are you absolutely sure? Because I’m staring at a woman who’s wearing semi-permanent Day of the Dead makeup, and I’m pretty sure you’ll still be wearing it tomorrow.”
I touch my face. I’d forgotten about my makeup. How, I have no idea. Probably because I haven’t passed many mirrors.
I’ve passed out, but not passed my reflection.
How bizarre.
I angle my body toward Liam, snapping one fist up on my hip. “Why are you so infuriating today?”
As if to punctuate my mood, Lucy-fur growls from in the crook of my other arm.
“Maybe we should get back to this whole tuna thing. Have you forgotten about that?”
Dang it!
I had. It’s tucked in my hand, between Lucy and my boob. “You scramble my brain. Cut me some slack.”
At that, he gives one short bark of laughter. It’s ironic and sarcastic and booming and extremely attractive for some reason.
“Now we’re even.”
Is he saying I scramble his brain?
Interesting.
“Okay, so the tuna. Let’s go and find George and see if he will let me use his trailer to feed Lucy. That’s what I meant about the tuna.”
“Why would he do that?”
I sweep one hand up and down my body. “Are you forgetting I’m catnip?”
“How could I?” He rolls his eyes heavenward.
“Sometimes it comes in handy.”
“Now’s your chance to show it off then. Get us into his trailer, kitty cat.”
“Meow pleasure,” I say and then immediately cringe. “I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth.”
I hear Liam snort and then mutter as he turns to exit Rodney’s tent, “I can.”
I stick my tongue out at his back.
Lucky for us, George the strong man has his act near the end of the show. He does some things in the main ring and then has a small bit he does with Lola that makes it look like he can lift her. It’s sort of a magic trick, according to Allanda. Not like I’d have believed any man capable of that anyway.
At least not my rational self.
The child in me who still loves the circus would’ve swallowed it hook, line and sinker.
We head over to the place where I saw George earlier. He’s out in front of it, stretching the trunk-like arms that are bared by his very cliché one-shoulder leotard.
“You must be George,” I blurt with my most winsome smile.
George is tall, probably around Liam’s height, just extremely muscle bound. With his shaved head, bushy moustache, and pierced nipple, it’s hard to imagine him ever being bullied. But according to Allanda, he hasn’t always been this muscular. If that was taken away, along with his intimidating grooming choices, I could see him being a tall, lanky, scrawny kid. Makes me feel sorry for him. Even though he could clearly snap me in half like a brittle twig.
It takes a few seconds for his expression to soften and his lips to curl up under his facial hair, but I know the instant my lucky charm kicks in. His eyes drop to scan me briefly. I guess he has no problem with black leather, a black cat, and interesting face paint.
Of course, he is a circus performer. This look might be right up his alley.
“And this must be my lucky day,” George responds, stepping toward me. He seems completely oblivious to Liam, the dark and foreboding shadow to my right.
“George, I know I’ve only been here a day, and we’ve only just officially met, but everyone tells me that you’re a great guy, and since you have an act coming up, I wondered if there was any way I could ask a favor.”
I do all but bat my lashes, mainly because in all this face paint around my eyes, you can’t even see them.
“Sure.”
“My cat, Lucy, is part of my act, and we’ve been training all day. It’s her dinnertime. Is there anyway I could use your trailer for just a few minutes to feed her?” I hold up the packet of tuna and shake it. “I just need a quiet place. She does great when she’s performing, but she’s a nervous eater. Like her momma.” I laugh lightly.
“Oh,” he says, disappointment coloring his tone. I guess he was thinking I was going to ask him something much more of interest to him. “Yeah, you can do that.” His face brightens up. “Will you still be there when I get finished?”
He does all but waggle his thick brows at me.
Men.
Ew.
“For you, I’ll try.”
I nearly gag. Why are those with testicles so easy to manipulate?
Actually, that’s not a fair question. Not from me anyway. I know exactly why I can manipulate them so easily, and it really has nothing to do with their weakness, per se. Heck, it’s not really anything to do with me. It’s just part of Beebee’s blessing.
And when it comes to that, all bets are off.
He turns back to his trailer, reaches up and opens the door for me. I smile widely as I climb the steps. “Thank you so much!”
I notice that Liam has wisely moved away. He probably feels better out there making sure no one gets the jump on me than in here anyway. Especially since George is still out there.
Quickly, I rummage through the strong man’s cabinets until I find a plastic plate. That’ll have to do. I open the tuna packet and set Lucy-fur down to eat. I really did need to feed her. She’s worked hard today.
She attacks the tuna with gusto, picking up the first chunk and shaking it like she’s trying to kill it. She does that with a lot of her food and toys. She has a vicious streak.
Hence the name.
I’m just turning away to start nosing around when the door opens and Liam slips in.
“Find anything?”
“It’s been four seconds,” I defend.
Okay, it’s been longer than that, but not nearly long enough to actually snoop.
“What’s the hold-up then?”
&nb
sp; Good Lord.
I shake my head and start poking around the mess of things lying on George’s foldout kitchen table. “I figured you’d stay out there with George.”
“One of the others came by and needed his help moving something. I guess when you’re the strong man, you get that a lot.” Liam starts rifling through the crap scattered on the coffee table. “It stinks in here.”
“He’s a circus worker. He probably doesn’t spend much money on cologne.”
“I meant the tuna. You didn’t really have that on you all day, did you?”
“Of course not. I stole it from your house.” I hear the sounds of Liam’s search stop momentarily. I glance up and he’s sending me one of his most disdainful looks. “What? It’s just a pack of tuna.”
“Felon,” he murmurs.
I don’t respond to that, because technically, if I were ever caught, I would be tried and charged as a felon.
For many things.
Now that I think about it, I’ve picked up some bad habits since I started sleuthing.
We comb through George’s trailer, looking through drawers and checking under the fold-up couch, shuffling through cabinets and peeking under the bed. Liam even feels around the seams in the walls, but it seems George is clean. If he attached a transmitter to Lola’s ear, he got rid of every scrap of evidence. He doesn’t even have so much as a roll of duct tape, and truthfully, by the looks of this trailer, he should. This thing looks like it could fall apart at any minute.
I straighten at about the same time Liam does.
“Nothing.”
Liam walks toward me. “Yeah, me either.”
“Maybe I need to talk to Jonah again.”
“Not a bad idea. If you don’t get anything there...”
“Yeah, I know,” I say with a sigh. “Back to lovely and tragic square one again.”
15
I rinse off the plate Lucy pretty much cleaned and lay it in the sink. I scoop her up and turn to Liam with a smile. I’m thinking about food now, too. The smell of tuna made me hungry.
Before I can say a word, my phone rings. I take it out of the little hidden pocket in my skirt and groan when I see the unknown, yet not unknown caller I.D.
I know who it is alright.
“What? Who is it?” Liam asks when he notices my reaction.
“Felonious.”
This can’t be good.
“Hello?”
“You’re in luck, Lucky,” she begins cheerfully.
“I-I am?”
“You are.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m about to let you off the hook for the cat thing. You just have one tiny thing to do, and you won’t even hate it.”
With Felonious, one tiny anything isn’t one tiny anything, if you catch my drift.
“Uh-oh. What do you want me to do?”
“Introduce me to a guy.”
My mouth drops open. “Huh?”
“Introduce me to a guy.”
“A particular guy, or just any guy?”
“A particular guy, lame-o.”
I can all but hear her eyes rolling with all the drama.
“Who?”
“The boy who brought you your cat.”
“I thought you brought me the cat dressed up as a boy.”
“Not that boy. The boy who actually brought you the cat.”
“But—”
“And put it in your hands,” she clarifies with the exasperation that only a teenaged girl can muster.
I think for a second. “You mean Jonah?”
“The delicious one. Early twenties, tall, blond. Great eyes.”
Even now, I’m recognizing the similarities Jonah shared with Rodney. She might as well have been describing him, but Rodney was older. And I personally wouldn’t call him delicious. Either of them. Cute, sure, but my taste tends to run toward the darker, broodier variety.
A face immediately comes to mind.
Stop that, Lucky!
I make a noise of frustration. Both Felonious and Liam notice. Simultaneously, they ask, “What?”
“I…I bit my lip,” I mumble. Then, for good measure, I snap my teeth down on my lip for real. You never know when proof might be required. I’d rather bite my own lip than admit to the thoughts I was having.
“So, will you do it?”
“I don’t know. We’re trying to blend in here. I’m not sure—”
“Would you rather have me as an enemy?”
If she were any other teenager, I’d set her straight about such high-handed methods, but Felonious is a cyber evil genius. She could make my life a living hell.
More so than she already does from time to time.
“Fine. We were just thinking about getting something to eat.” Liam clears his throat. “I mean, I was thinking about food. I could ask Jonah if he wants to come with us to the diner. We could meet you there.”
“That could work.”
“I hope you’re not planning on coming dressed like a boy again, because I think Jonah swings more toward females.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she replies. “Duh.”
“You’re going to come as you?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, but aren’t you afraid we’ll tell the town who you are and what you look like?”
“No. You’re both too smart to cross me.”
It’s as if she can read my mind.
“How old are you? Because Jonah’s not in high school.” When she pauses, I add, “It’s not like I’m not going to see you in a few minutes anyway.”
“Seventeen. But I’ll be eighteen in six days.”
I can't really decline an introduction based on age then. That wouldn’t hold up, and I know it.
“You’re a seventeen-year-old tyrant. You know that, right?”
There’s laughter in her voice. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Anarchy!” she exclaims and then hangs up.
I turn slowly to Liam. “If I ever have children, I will never let them have a computer. Ever.”
He snorts. “Good luck with that. By the time you have kids, it’ll be Skynet.”
I raise my brows. “A movie reference? From you? Be still my heart.”
“The unplumbed depths of Liam Dunning,” he mutters caustically.
“You jest, but sometimes your seriousness worries me. You gotta loosen up. It’s not healthy to be so serious all the time.”
Liam stares down at me. He’s not wearing his customary stormy expression. This one is more contemplative. “I haven’t always been so serious.”
“No? I can’t imagine you any other way.”
“Life has a tendency to change a person. Sometimes not for the better.”
“You think you’ve changed for the worse?”
“Don’t you?”
“I have nothing to compare you to, but I don’t think you’re all that bad.”
“Stop with the flowery words. You’re making me blush,” he deadpans.
I huff a laugh. “Okay, that didn’t sound so awesome, but I don’t want to give you a big head. I don’t think you need any other women swooning over you.”
“So, you make a point not to swoon over me? Is that what you’re saying?”
Yes.
“Not at all.”
Lies. All lies.
“Because that’s what it sounded like you were saying.”
“Only you would think that, you sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot.”
“You…what?”
“It’s from 9 to 5.” I wave him off. “If you haven’t seen the movie, I don’t have time to explain it. We need to go.”
I’m more than happy to put this conversation behind me. It won’t do for me to talk to Liam about real feelings and swooning and stuff like that.
Arms length, Lucky. Arms length.
That’s what I need to focus on when it comes to Liam Dunning.
Arms.
Length.
W
e exit George’s trailer and go in search of Jonah. He’s nowhere around the yard, and his act was earlier. Unless he’s in a tent or trailer with someone…
As we’re heading back toward the entrance to the main tent, I get a glimpse of him standing at the edge of the curtain, watching the show. It’s the part where the flyers are swinging back and forth, flipping and soaring and catching each other, all while Allanda blows blazing columns of fire up at them. One flyer grabs another from a perch high in the rafters and swings down, down, down with her. On the upswing, he releases her. She tucks her body into a tight ball and somersaults in an arc above the orange flame, unfolding just in time to grasp the hands of the other trapezist, who takes her to a perch on the other side. Despite the height and quick movement, I recognize the female flyer in this part as Jonah’s mother, Shari. That must be why he’s watching.
I walk over to him and reach up to tap his foot. He looks down at me from his towering height and smiles. I motion for him to bend down, which he does with surprising nimbleness. If it were me trying to even stand perfectly still on those stilts, I’d have already broken five or six important body parts.
“We’re going to grab something to eat at the diner. Wanna come?”
“The diner?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s a local place. Good food.”
He shrugs. “Sure. Let me get out of these clothes.”
He’s wearing a red, white, and blue striped top hat, vest, and matching long, long, long pants that cover his stilts. The vertical lines only make him look that much taller.
“Yeah, since it’s not the fourth of July…”
He winks at me and lumbers off.
Liam steps in front of me, facing me and putting his left shoulder in line with my right one. When he speaks, his mouth hardly moves. “Why don’t you two go without me?”
“Why?”
“Maybe I can poke around while you’re gone.”
It takes a half a second for me to understand what he’s getting at. “You mean poke around in Jonah’s place?”
“I don’t think I’ll find anything, but we have to be sure. Or at least as sure as we can be.”
He’s right, I know, but it still doesn’t set well. Jonah seems like such a good kid. I can’t imagine…
But, then again, most murderers aren’t readily identifiable or else they’d all be thrown in jail on sight, so...
