Fortune (8 page)

T
he kid did not give Chance the opportunity to keep his distance. For the next week she dogged his steps. Morning, noon or night, it didn't matter where he was or what he was doing, he could turn around or look up and there the know-it-all little pest would be, grinning at him. Asking questions, giving advice. Offering to help him, no matter what he was doing at the time.

He didn't know why she was so interested in him; he didn't care. Besides annoying the crap out of him, the kid was making things even more difficult for him than they already were. He was barely holding his own with the other roustabouts, as it was; now, because of her kiddie crush or whatever it was, he was the butt of their jokes, as well. He had heard the jeers of the other guys as he passed, their snickers, the little ditty they chanted every time he was near enough to hear.

Skye and Chance, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes little Skye riding in the baby carriage.

They all thought it very funny. A laugh-riot. He was not amused—not with their ditty or her interest in him. He was going to have to put an end to this. And soon.

The pest in question plopped down onto the picnic-table bench beside him and smiled. “Hi, Chance.”

He didn't look up. “Go away.”

“Whatcha doing?”

Chance scowled and tossed his fork back onto his plate. “I
was
eating my breakfast.”

“Don't let me stop you.” She drew up her knees and propped her elbows on them. “I ate in our trailer early.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. “Good for you.”

She popped up. “I'll go with you.”

From across the tent, he saw two of the sideshow performers watching them, their expressions openly amused. One of them winked at him and began mouthing some words. Chance had a pretty good idea what those words were.

Skye and Chance, sitting in a tree…

He gritted his teeth. “Look, kid, what do you want?”

“I came to help you set up your booth. I thought you—”

“Go help somebody else.” He picked up his tray and carried it to the bus-station.

She scurried after him. “Wait. You know, it's Saturday, and I thought you might nee—”

“I don't.” Turning his back to her, he scraped the last of the unappetizing bacon and eggs into the trash then set his plate and utensils in a dish tub, his tray beside it. Without even a glance back in her direction, he hurried from the tent and out into the bright day beyond.

She followed, catching up in moments and tugging on his sleeve. When he met her gaze, she indicated his bruised cheek. “I see those creeps nailed you again.”

“It's no big deal.”

She shook her head, screwing up her face in disgust. “Those guys make me sick.”

“Yeah, well, life's rough all over.”

She skipped along beside him. “I tried to tell you before, if you'd just give 'em a good pop they'll leave you alone. Or, you could go to Mr. Marvel and tell him.”

“Gimme a break.”

“No, really. You could.”

Chance stopped and glared down at her, exasperated. “Are you enjoying this, kid? Is this fun for you? Ruining my life? Making me the laughingstock of the show? How many times and ways do I have to ask you to leave me alone before you actually do?”

“I'm not trying to ruin your life.” She shook her head, her expression hurt. “We're friends, and I only wanted to hel—”

“You're not helping. And we're not friends.”

“We could be.”

“No, we couldn't!”
Enough was enough. He had tried to be nice, but he'd had it.
Hands on hips, Chance faced her, looking her straight in the eyes. “I'm an adult and you're a kid. We have nothing in common. In fact, I don't even like you. You're a know-it-all and a pest. I tell you what, I'll give you five bucks to go ruin somebody else's life for a while.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she took a step backward. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again without speaking. He muttered an oath, feeling like a total heel. She was just a kid, for Pete's sake.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sure you're a perfectly okay kid and all, it's just that I'm—”

“Well, well…what do we have here, fellas? The farm boy and his little girlfriend.”

Shit, Len and his band of hick-thugs.
Chance turned around slowly. The boy and his group stood just beyond the little top, their expressions twisted into amused sneers.

Len placed his hands on his hips. “And just look at the two of them, standin' there all cozy. Isn't that
too
sweet?”

The group of boys howled. Chance took a step toward them, fists clenched. “Go to hell, asshole.”

The group oohed in unison. Len laughed. “I think they make a real cute couple. You like 'em young, farm boy?”

Skye took several steps forward. “That's so gross! You guys make me sick. You ought to be ashamed of—”

“Shut up, Skye!” Chance caught her arm and dragged her back toward him. Her help was the last thing he needed; he would never live it down. He faced the group, eyes narrowed. “Get out of our way.”

The boys spread out, circling them, blocking their way in every direction. Len smiled slyly. “Make us.”

Chance felt a flush start at the base of his neck and move upward. Marvel's rules be damned, he had taken all the crap he was going to from these losers. He wasn't walking away until they backed down or he'd killed somebody.

“I said, move.”

The group hooted, and Len cocked his head to the side. “She the only piece of ass you can get, farm boy?”

Chance took a menacing step toward the other boy, adrenaline pumping through him. “You want to say that again?”

Len, too, took a step forward. “And if I do?” he mocked. “What're you going to do about it? Ask your little girlfriend to beat the shit out of me?”

“No.
I'm
going to beat the shit out of you.” Chance clenched his jaw and waved the boy forward. “Come on. You first.”

Chance held Len's gaze, unflinching. The other guy was older, bigger and meaner—plus he had three of his delinquent cronies to back him up. Chance didn't care. He had reached the point of no return. He might go down, but not before he inflicted a little pain of his own.

Len hesitated; Chance waved him forward again. “Come on, asshole. Let's rock 'n roll. If Marvel catches us, we're both out. But what the hell? I'm game.”

He saw the other boy waver, weighing his options. Len might be big and dumb as a stump, but he wasn't ignorant of his options. If Marvel canned him, Len knew he was up shit creek without a paddle.

Chance smiled grimly and waved his opponent forward. He almost had him. One more minute and—

“Leave Chance alone!” Skye flounced forward, placing herself between him and Len. She propped her fists on her hips and lifted her chin. “He hasn't done anything to you. I think you're just jealous because he's got—”

“You to protect him,” one of the guys jeered.

The group howled so loudly they nearly drowned out her sputters of indignation. Chance wanted to die. He was certain he would. He made a desperate grab for her. “Skye, don't—”

She shook him off. “What you're doing is just plain mean. You guys make me want to puke!”

That brought a fresh wave of amusement. A couple of the roustabouts laughed so hard, they doubled over.

“Tough guy has to have his little girlfriend protect him. We're
so
scared!” They were all but hysterical with laughter. The boys began clucking their tongues, taunting Chance.

“Pussy,” Len said laughing. “Pussy needs a little girl to protect him.”

“That's not nice,” Skye shouted. “You should be—”

“Shut up!” Shaking with rage and embarrassment, Chance grabbed a handful of Skye's T-shirt and dragged her backward. “I can fight my own battles!”

“Come on, then,” shouted Len, and the circle of teenagers tightened around them. “Let's party, farm boy.”

Just then, Abner Marvel came around the corner, bat in hand, expression murderous. The group froze. “What the hell's going on?” he bellowed, slapping the bat against his palm. “We all on break here, or what? Did we forget it's Saturday and the show opens in less than an hour?” He slapped the bat again. “Did we?”

The group scattered. Marvel caught Chance's arm as he started past. “I'm watching you, McCord,” he said. “I'm watching you real close.”

Chance swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“You'd better learn to fit in, because you're running out of time.”

“That's not fair!” Skye cried. “It wasn't Chance who—”

Marvel's face mottled. “And you, little miss, you stay out of business that doesn't concern you. You're going to get somebody hurt. Understand? I don't want to have to go to your mama, but I will.”

Without another word, he walked away. Chance watched him a moment, then turned to Skye. “Get the hell away from me.” He all but spit the words at her.

“You should be grateful I—”

“Grateful! Don't you get it? You don't help. You make things worse. For me and everybody else.”

“I do not! You're just saying that because—”

“I'm saying it because it's true.” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to meet his eyes. “If you hadn't stuck your big nose in, I would have won that fight. I almost had him.”

“He would have beat your ass. And you know it!”

“You don't know anything. Get lost.”

He started off; she followed. “At least I'm not mean,” she said, running to keep up. “At least I don't—”

“Look!” he shouted, stopping so suddenly she plowed into his back. “You're ruining my life. I want you to buzz off, scram, get lost. I can't be any plainer than that.”

“Make me.”

He glared at her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. It's a free country, and if I want to follow you I will.” She folded her arms across her chest and cocked up her chin. “And you can't stop me.”

“Like hell,” he muttered, so mad he felt as if the top of his head was going to pop off. “Like hell.”

He closed the distance between them, picked her up and swung her scrawny little body over his shoulder.

She squealed in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of you. Once and for all.”

“Getting rid of me? Put me down!” She tried to kick her feet, but he had her legs anchored at the knees. “I said, let me go!”

He kept walking. She pummeled his back with her fists, landing a few good blows to his ribs. “That hurt!” he shouted. “Cut it out!”

“Not until you put me down.”

“I asked you nicely, you didn't listen. Now I'm taking you home. Where you and all babies belong…with their mommies.”

She made a sound of outrage. A moment later, he felt her teeth sink into his back. She'd bit him! He couldn't believe it. “You are a spoiled brat!” He smacked her on the bottom, hard. She howled. “Bite me again, you little shit, and I'll hit you again. Harder this time.”

He could tell by the way she tensed that she was thinking about it, weighing her options. She must have decided against it because he went unbitten, though she seemed to double her efforts to wiggle free.

He finally reached the trailer she shared with her mother. He pounded on the door. When Madame Claire opened it, he dumped her red-faced daughter at her feet. “Keep your little brat away from me. Do you hear? Keep her away.”

Madame Claire—a pretty woman who looked nothing like the devil-eyed witch the other boys portrayed her to be—moved her surprised gaze from him to her daughter. “I don't understand, what…Skye, have you been bothering this boy?”

“No, Mom, I—”

“Yes, Mom,” he interrupted. “Skye has been bothering this boy.” He glared at mother, then daughter. “She's been following me around. Today, she nearly got me killed. Keep her away from me.”

“I was only trying to help.” Skye looked beseechingly at her mother. “Really, Mom. I didn't mean to make trouble.”

“But you did, anyway.” The woman looked down at her daughter, obviously angry. “Get inside. Now.”

“But, Mom—”

“Now!”

The girl obeyed, but not before sending her mother a petulant look. The fortune-teller turned to Chance. “I'm sorry. Skye is a bit strong-willed.”

“That's what you call it. I call it spoiled. And selfish. Keep her away.”