House of Mirrors (5 page)

His question was met by silence. Jonah couldn’t bring himself to look, so he stared straight ahead, waiting for the answer.

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? What sort of skills do you possess?”

“I, uh.” Jonah had a college education, though not from a prestigious institution. His family had wanted him to stay close to home, so he lived there while taking classes at a small Bible college. Because of his studies, he could read and even speak Latin, debate theology, and quote any scripture verbatim. Perfect accomplishments for a carnival worker.

“I can help care for the animals. I used to work on my uncle’s farm during the summer. And I’m good with numbers if you need any sort of accounting help.” Jonah nodded at the brass box.

The showman looked at him thoughtfully, and Jonah squirmed under his intent gaze. “I’ll tend to the accounting myself, thank you, but we can always use more help cleaning up after the animals if you’re not too proud to scoop shite.”

“I live for it,” Jonah quipped, eager to show Grimstone that he wasn’t always pathetic and miserable, that he had a sense of humor, too.

A smile flashed like lightning across the man’s face, dazzling Jonah with its brilliance. Jonah quickly concentrated on the horse’s rear, its tail twitching as it swept away flies. Just then the wagon jolted over a rut in the road, making Jonah’s teeth click together at the sudden impact.

“How do you keep your House of Mirrors from shattering? Country roads are so rough, you must find yourself replacing glass all the time.”

“Occasionally we do, but they’re kept wrapped and padded, protected from jarring. The mirrors are hardly high quality, and they aren’t all glass. We have reflective tin tacked up too. The reflections are wavy and dim, to say the least, but in the dark the effect isn’t too bad, and very few demand their money back.”

“Do you give it to them?”

Grimstone laughed, a rich, rolling chuckle that warmed Jonah through like the liquor had done. “Absolutely not. But if the chawbacon caterwauls loud enough, we’ll let him into one of the other attractions for free. If it’s a fella without a date, he’s generally happy enough to get a free pass to the hoochie-coochie tent.”

“What’s that?” Jonah slapped the reins on the horse’s rump as the animal slowed to a lazy plod.

“Aye, you are wet behind the ears, aren’t you? A hoochie-coochie dancer shimmies and strips off scarves till there’s little left to the viewer’s imagination.”

“Oh.” His cheeks burned, not only at the image of a nearly nude woman, but because he’d once again shown his ignorance. He didn’t like Grimstone thinking of him as a naive lad, even if it was true.

Mostly
. Memories of the things he’d done with Rev. Burns again flooded his mind, and to his chagrin, his cock began to stiffen. Despite the betrayal and denial of their relationship when they’d been exposed, Jonah still melted at the memory of the intense pleasure the older man had given him—pleasure Jonah had been happy to return as he’d learned techniques under his mentor’s instruction.

Grimstone returned his attention to his accounting, and Jonah concentrated on keeping the horse moving. He gazed to the left and right, taking in the Ohio countryside. Fields of corn stretched away in either direction. Small white houses and large red barns scattered at regular intervals seemed fat and satisfied, prosperous and respectable. Jonah couldn’t wait to leave the familiar view behind and see something brand new: hills, lakes, a river, mountains, or even the ocean. The world lay before him, and for the first time, he began to feel excitement at the prospect of eclipsing his shame at the manner in which he’d left home.

“Excuse me, sir,” he interrupted Grimstone’s reading again. “Could you tell me the route the carnival takes, or do you make it up as you go?”

“We have a circuit. Have to, or all the outfits would be stepping on each other’s territory. Wouldn’t do to try to drink from a well that’s already dry. Our area includes most of Ohio, part of Indiana, and Kentucky.”

Jonah was disappointed. He’d hoped they would travel farther afield.

“Did you get enough to eat this morning?” Grimstone changed the subject.

“Yes, thank you,” he answered politely, even though his stomach was growling for more substantial food than a hunk of bread and a sip of liquor.

“Hm.” Grimstone gauged him with a disbelieving eye. “We’ll stop for lunch in another couple of hours. When we do, I’ll introduce you to Parinsky, and he can assign you some chores and a place to sleep.”

Jonah nodded. Of course he’d known he couldn’t stay with Grimstone, but another flare of disappointment shot through him.

“You don’t look too good.” The manager reached for the reins, and Jonah surrendered them. “Climb in back and get yourself some rest if you can. God knows these roads are so rutted, they’re enough to jar your bones apart.”

Grimstone pulled out the battered brass whistle from his vest pocket. He blew three long blasts, and the entire parade of vehicles came to a stop in order that Jonah could climb down from the seat and enter the wagon.

Others took the halt as an opportunity to head for the bushes and relieve themselves. Many curious eyes watched Jonah, and he flushed to the roots of his hair at the scrutiny. The last thing he wanted was to be considered weak or to be set apart from them by special treatment. He wished Grimstone had let him stay on the box.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the whistle blew again—one long blast. There was a moment of silence, then three short shrieks of the whistle. Almost at once the wagon rolled forward with a jolt that nearly knocked him off his feet. Jonah dropped down onto his makeshift pallet on the floor, certain he wouldn’t catch a wink. But within minutes the clattering wheels and swaying wagon lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Five

Rafe had closed the account ledger, but numbers still danced in his mind. Payroll, food, supplies, bribes to local officials—all left little for any kind of renovation to the wagons or the attractions. Morale would go out the window if he divulged the truth, so out of habit, he hadn’t told the whole truth to the newest member of the troupe. The show would go on as always, shabby and decrepit and barely turning a profit. Some days he wondered why he bothered. He had other options. Even if he never returned home, he had education and possible resources.

But owning the carnival was no longer about earning money, if it ever had been. This odd collection of people was family to him now. He couldn’t break down the show, abandon them, and leave many of them with no livelihood. He had an obligation. Which was amusingly ironic given how far he’d run to escape his real family obligations.

As mile after mile of boring countryside rolled past, Rafe’s mind shifted from business concerns to thoughts of a more personal nature—namely the lad currently sleeping in his home. His instant, powerful attraction to the young man bewildered him. He’d seen more handsome men, more beautiful youths during his travels. Jonah Talbot was nothing special. Medium height, wiry build, unremarkable blond hair. His physique was not spectacular nor his features particularly interesting. But his eyes… Ah, they’d caught and held Rafe like a hook in a fish’s mouth from the moment he’d looked into them. Even with that impressive shiner someone had given him.

Last night he’d supposed his attraction to the lad was unreciprocated. But today as they’d talked, little signs—inclinations of Talbot’s body, facial expressions, vocal inflection—had pretty well assured Rafe the attraction was mutual. That, at least, was comforting. He was usually accurate in his assessment of other men’s sexual bent; had to be, because one couldn’t afford to make a mistake when setting an assignation with a stranger.

So, here was Jonah, an attractive and available man lying in the back of this very wagon. What would be the harm in taking advantage of that? It wouldn’t be taking advantage at all if they both wanted it. But once, some time ago, Rafe had learned a hard lesson about shitting in his own nest. It didn’t do to become involved with someone you had to continue to work alongside after the moments of passion faded.

Still…

A vision of Jonah Talbot’s face, bruised and vulnerable as he slept, turned into a vision of that same face transported in ecstasy. Images of naked limbs, a lean torso, a taut arse, a sucking mouth, a rigid penis, shifted like kaleidoscope pieces in Rafe’s head. It was so distracting, he nearly drove into the wagon before him when it pulled to an abrupt stop. His horse, Chaucer, had to turn and pull the wagon off the edge of the road and into the weeds to avoid a collision.

Rafe jumped down and walked to the front of the line to talk to Henry Fisher, who was squatting beside the red wagon, peering underneath it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Heard a noise. I’m afraid the axle may be about to give way.”

“Perfect. At this rate we might make Bartonville about a week from now.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t help,” the knife thrower said. “Call Dimitri up here and see if he can fix it.”

Rafe didn’t have to summon the strongman. Dimitri trotted up from his spot near the back of the line, where he’d no doubt been flirting with Miss Jamie, or trying to, since the mistress of the dog and pony show never gave him the time of day. He crawled beneath the wagon.

“It’s cracking, all right. I think you can make it to the next stop, though, if you take it easy and avoid the potholes. Just to be safe, I’ll lash some binding around the axle to hold it firm.”

Rafe trusted Dimitri’s assessment. The strongman had labored at a carriage works before joining the show.

“It’ll take a bit of time, boss. You might as well tell everyone to take a break.”

Rafe didn’t have to do that either, although he sent Fisher to spread the word. Folks were always ready for a break from traveling, and some of them were already sprawling in the grass by the side of the road, having a leisurely smoke or a snack.

There was nothing for him to do here. Dimitri had it under control. Rafe went to check on Talbot, hoping no one noticed his preoccupation with the new hire. But he had little doubt that eyes were on him. They always were.

He climbed into the wagon and shut the door behind him.

Jonah sat up, rubbing his hand over his eyes. His fine hair was sleep rumpled and sticking out in all directions. The sight caught at Rafe’s heart and sewed little stitches through it.

“We’re stopped? Is it lunchtime already?”

“Cracked axle. We’ll be on our way again in about fifteen minutes.” God help him for immediately thinking what they could do in fifteen minutes.

Jonah rose to his feet a bit stiffly, grasping onto the counter for support.

“You didn’t have to lie on that pallet. You could’ve slept in my bed.” Did that offer sound as heavy with meaning to the other man as it did to him?

Jonah looked toward the unmade bed and then at Rafe. Their gazes met and held, locked together. There was no use pretending desire didn’t crackle between them. The windows were closed, blocking out noise and the heat but also any fresh breeze. Inside, they were sealed into a warm stillness. Hushed, breathless, intimate, the moment spun out in a fine filament between them.

“Well,” Rafe said.

Jonah licked his lips and shifted from foot to foot.

Rafe walked forward, crossing the space between them. He stopped right in front of Jonah, standing too close and waiting for him to back away if he wished to stop this.

He didn’t. Instead Jonah swayed forward, closer. They stood chest to chest, as if they were two drunks in a bar, deciding whether or not they were going to brawl.

Rafe lifted his hand and touched the side of the younger man’s face, feeling the slight roughness of the unshaved cheek, the warmth of skin beneath his fingertips. His heart raced, the thrill of this simple act as powerful as the jolt of a hammer coming down on the “test your strength” machine. And they hadn’t even done anything illicit yet. Simply the possibility of kissing, touching, fondling…probing, had his head awhirl.

Jonah’s eyes drifted partway closed. He tilted his head, pushing his cheek against Rafe’s palm. His lips were parted, moist, begging for a kiss.

Rafe didn’t even need to ask, but he did anyway. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” came the breathless reply.

That was all he needed. Rafe bent and took hold of that luscious mouth, then pressed his lips hard against yielding softness. He was surprised at the fervor with which Jonah returned his kiss. Either the young man had been starved for this, waiting for such an experience his entire life, or he’d had more experience than Rafe would’ve expected. Either way, Jonah was ravenous, ignoring any pain in his damaged lip and kissing Rafe with hungry passion.

Their tongues swept out and met in the middle, circling, plunging, fighting for supremacy—again taking Rafe by surprise. This diffident, polite lad was quite confident when it came to demanding what he wanted. Without hesitation, Jonah slid his arms around Rafe and pressed his hands against his back, pulling him closer.

Through the flannel of his trousers, he felt Jonah’s erection against his, sending waves of aching need rolling through him. Rafe groaned and wrapped his arms around Jonah, holding him tight. Their mouths continued to feed off each other, licking, tasting, gently stroking, and then crashing together fervently once more. And their bodies struggled together too, as if trying to find a way to become one, despite all the pesky clothes that kept them apart.

Rafe ran a hand up Jonah’s back, feeling the ridge of his spine through his cotton shirt. He pushed his hand into soft, fine hair and cradled the hard skull beneath. In a flash, he pictured a man, or more likely several, pounding on this ingenuous young man. He wished he could’ve been there to rip the bastards’ arms off and beat them with their own limbs.

Rafe pulled away from Jonah’s mouth, sucked in a breath of air, and attacked him again. He rocked his hips, rubbing his cock against the other man’s but receiving no relief from it. He slipped his hand down, unbuckled Jonah’s belt, and unfastened the buttons holding his fly closed. He sought the turgid thickness of the man’s erection, found it, and wrapped his fist around it.