Courting the Clown (3 page)

Nick looked at Sylvie, all three of them now silent and expectant, waiting for her reply. The trapped look in her eyes would have been funny if this wasn’t so damned important.

Sylvie looked between the three of them, lastly at Lana, who looked away and started kicking the snow as if she didn’t care what the answer would be. Sylvie met Nick’s eyes, and he ignored her obvious plea of “let me off the hook” and instead tried to impart all the need that his daughter wouldn’t let show. It probably wasn’t fair of him to put her on the spot like this, but he didn’t much care about fair right now.

She wouldn’t have the heart to say no. She couldn’t.

He held out a hand to help her to her feet again. “So, what do you say?” he asked when the silence had dragged on forever.

“I’ll think about it,” she mumbled. “I have to check my schedule,” she added and started to search her pockets. “So many pockets. I really should have business cards here somewhere. Susie said something about handing out business cards at every opportunity.”

Nick’s gaze was draw to Sylvie’s chest before he could figure out a way to silence his daughter. He could see Emily’s point, but that wasn’t the issue. Emily and her big mouth. Why didn’t children come with a rewind function? Or better yet, a delayed play-back and a mute button. Maybe it was something he could look into inventing.

“Emily!” he said weakly, knowing there was probably something he should be doing or saying right now to discipline his daughter. He’d just need a minute to figure out precisely the right reaction to comments like these.

Sylvie looked down on herself, bemused. She reached into her suit and removed the wig. “It’s just the wig I stuffed down into my suit, Emily. See.”

Emily craned her neck and stared at Sylvie’s chest. “Now you’ve gots almost no boobs.”

Nick grabbed his younger daughter and covered her mouth with his hand, feeling mortified. Sylvie did have all the essential parts. Despite the bulky costume, he’d noticed, but obviously his daughter had a different taste in cup-sizes.

He carefully removed his hand from his daughter’s mouth, and mercifully she stayed silent. He shook her gently, staring at her with his best stern-father look. The two of them would have to have a serious conversation when they got home. “Emily, you know better than that, don’t you?”

Emily meekly nodded, small white teeth gnawing on her lower lip as she looked between the two adults. She hated to apologize, although she really should be in practice by now.

“Well?” Nick said to his daughter, eyebrows raised.

The child looked at Sylvie and mumbled an apology.

“It’s okay,” Sylvie said. Her smile was brave, all things considering. She even reached out and patted Emily on the head – carefully, like she was petting a semi-wild animal at the zoo. Nick almost felt like chuckling. She really hadn’t been exaggerating her fear of kids.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Sylvie. “Kids... you can never know what they’re going to say. I am trying to raise them better than this. I’ll have a serious talk with her when we get home.”

Emily groaned and pouted. She flopped down in the snow next to where her sister was sitting, quietly creating a small arsenal of snowballs, and started one of her own. Nick kept a close eye on her. Lana would most likely use her snowballs to build a tiny family of snowmen. Emily, on the other hand, was likely to make someone scream.

Sylvie waved off his apology. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You know what they say - from the mouth of babes...”

“No, it’s not true at all. She must have been brainwashed by Barbie. You’ve got plenty--” Nick squeezed his eyes shut and felt like clamping a hand over his own mouth. He was no better than his daughter. He grinned sheepishly. “Oh boy. I can’t believe I said that. Sorry.”

Sylvie was keeping busy going through more pockets, probably still in search of that elusive business card. He couldn’t see if the bit lip indicated annoyance or if she was trying to keep from laughing. “No problem. I’ll live. And there’s no need to reassure me. A complaint from a five year old won’t have me running to a plastic surgeon. Ah, there they are.”

She’d located a small stack of damp cardboard rectangles and managed to peel one free. “Here is the agency’s card. Hope the print isn’t too smudgy from the snow. Call them, okay? See if they have a clown you and Lana would like.”

Nick nodded and fished around in an inner pocket until he located a pen. She motioned for him to turn around and used his back as a desk as she scribbled something on the card. “If the agency can’t help you, if nothing works out -- call me.” She looked at Lana, then her gaze slid to Emily and she bit her lip. “If all else fails...”

Nick smiled and tucked the card into a pocket. Mission accomplished. Almost. “Thanks. Now can we give you a ride back to the office? Or home?”

Sylvie looked down at his daughters and Nick narrowed his eyes as he met Emily’s oh-so-innocent gaze. “Em, you’re going to be nice to Sylvie in the car,” he said sternly. “No more tricks. No more clowning around. She’s off-duty now. Understand? You’re in deep enough trouble already, kid.” He leaned down to catch her eye. “One more strike, kiddo, and I’ll have to have a serious talk with Santa.”

His fallen angel nodded. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”

“Thanks...” Sylvie said. “I would appreciate a ride downtown. But only if you’re going there anyway.”

“Yep, that’s where we’re headed,” Nick lied. “No problem.” He herded his daughters down the path and out the gate, where they clambered into the back seat of his SUV. He opened the passenger door for Sylvie, who climbed in and immediately went for the mirror on the visor. He started the car and

“Oh, no,” he heard her mutter as he shut the door. When he got in on his side, she was frantically scraping at the make-up on her face with her fingernails. “What a nightmare. It’s half an inch thick! Do you suppose it will ever come off?”

In the rear view mirror, he saw Lana leaning forwards, peering towards Sylvie with a worried look. He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure it will. But if you’re worried, I think I’ve got a crowbar in the trunk.”

Sylvie slammed the visor back up and yanked her seat belt in place. “Damn Susie for abandoning me like this,” she muttered between her teeth, rubbing at the paint on her cheeks. “I was just going to observe, she promised me it would be no big deal. I should have told her to go straight to hell the minute she told me to put on this bloody costume...”

Nick cleared his throat and interrupted before the girls got new ammunition for their ongoing Creative Cursing project. “Well... where exactly are we taking you? Home? Or to the clown office?”

Sylvie glanced back at the girls. “The office.
Clowns and Clauses
. I need to get my stuff and my car. Sorry about the cursing. I’m not used to having to watch my language. I didn’t mean to... I’m just a bit... upset.”

“I don’t blame you. Scary afternoon.”

She rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. “Never mind. I survived. It’s over. Never again.” She opened her eyes and looked at him with alarm. “I mean, never again unless we can’t figure out anything else for you.”

“Of course,” Nick said blandly, wondering if she’d even given him the correct cell phone number. But he couldn’t push more than he’d already done. She’d promised to help him if nothing else worked out. He had to trust her.

The girls were mercifully quiet on the way back, occasionally whispering to each other, the word “Iffy” quite frequently floating towards the front of the car. Sylvie almost seemed to doze off, so there was little conversation. Nick took shortcuts to avoid the holiday traffic, and made it downtown in just twenty minutes. Sylvie guided him to the clown offices.

“Thanks for the ride,” Sylvie said as she opened her door. “Bye, girls.” She hesitated. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Bye,” the girls said, one loudly, the other in a tiny whisper. Nick put his hand on Sylvie’s shoulder, preventing her escape. “When can I call you?” he asked. “Her birthday is three days from now, so we don’t have much time.”

Sylvie hesitated. “Call me the day before her birthday. First check with the office and other clown agencies, and only if you find absolutely nothing, then call me. Okay?”

Nick nodded. He yanked his wallet out of his inner pocket and removed his own business card. He wrote his number on the back, both the cell phone and the home number, as well as his home address. The office number, fax number and his email were on the front, so that should just about cover it. “If you need to reach me...” Yeah, he was probably an infernal optimist.

“Bye.” Nick said to the closed door. He turned back and winked at his daughters. “Our fate is in Iffy’s hands now, girls. We’ll have to hope for the best.”

Emily laughed, energetically waving out the window to Sylvie’s retreating back. Lana didn’t even crack a smile. She looked out the other window, into the street and he saw her thin chest lift in a silent sigh. She obviously wasn’t getting her hopes up.

Nick echoed her inaudible sigh. So much rode on Sylvie’s decision. She had to make the right one. She
had
to.

Sylvie shuddered as she pushed at the door to
Clowns and Clauses
. So many kids! Some parents were just suckers for punishment, weren’t they?

The door wasn’t budging. And behind the glass was darkness. She turned the handle and pushed harder, praying to the patron saint of clowns. She knocked hard on the window and hit the doorbell with a fist.

No response.

What a day.

She slumped against the door. Fine. Okay. So she’d have to wait a bit. Not the end of the world. Sooner or later, one of the regular clowns or Santas would return from duty, and she could get in there and reclaim her clothes, her purse, her keys, her cell phones and all the other vital objects of the 21
^st
century. She’d cast of the clown costume and never wear polka dots again. In the meantime she’d just wait out here.

Lana had his father’s eyes. Dark blue, lashes dark and silky. Only Nick’s eyes were filled with intensity and mystery while his daughter’s eyes reflected wariness and caution.

She told herself to get a grip. He was the father of two little girls. A widower, probably. He had no business making her stomach flutter like that, and she had no business wondering what he looked like asleep.

In the back seat, two faces were pressed against the window. Nick saw her looking that way and glanced backwards. “Emily! Back in your seat belt!” he growled, then opened the passenger door and gestured Sylvie over. “I take it you don’t have a key?”

Reluctantly she walked to the car, then sat in the front seat again, feeling trapped. “Right.”

“Can we drive you home then?”

“Can’t get in. My keys are in there.” She was feeling exhausted and helpless. She’d been so close to ending this entire nightmare, and then she’d come up against a closed door. It wasn’t fair.

Nick’s fingers drummed on the wheel, but he didn’t look too put out on being stuck with a homeless clown. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Someone you can call?”

She waved the cell phone away. “Actually, I’ll just have to wait.” She glanced at her watch. “It’ll be an hour at the most. Then the Sant.... uh...” She took a hurried glimpse in the back seat, but the girls hadn’t noticed her slip. Kids still believed in Santa at that age, didn’t they? “I mean, the... staff starts returning from the malls.”

Nick pulled away from the curb and she nearly shrieked. Was she being abducted? “No problem,” he said. “We’ll keep you company. How about we have an early dinner together? The girls need something to eat anyway, to counter all the sugar in their system.”

Emily whooped enthusiastically and even Lana cracked a tiny smile. Dinner? Sylvie cursed herself for not having carried at least a tiny amount of emergency money. She wasn’t quite destitute yet, thank God, but she didn’t have even a penny with her. “I’m not dressed for a restaurant...” she protested.