Sleight (11 page)

When I got home, I dropped my backpack on my bunk and immediately checked my email. Nothing from Henry. Damn.

My palms were sweaty and I felt agitated. But I could hold my ground against Ted’s persistence, even if it meant earning top spot on his shit list for a while. Henry meant something to me now, and I wasn’t going to “be careful.” The time for being careful had passed.

I sucked in a deep breath and knocked on Ted’s door. As I stepped into his living quarters/office, I was engulfed by the smel of dirty work boots and cigarettes, the leftovers of empty whiskey bottles rounding out the bouquet.

“Hi, Gems. How was your day? Have a seat. I’m just finishing up here.”

I sat across from him at the table, watching him scratch down a few numbers and erase a few others on a coffee-stained notepad.

“I appreciate you coming to see me,” he said. He closed his laptop and pushed it aside, folding his calused, work-weary hands on the tabletop. I sat up tal, ready to take the bul by the horns.

“Ted, if this is about my friendship with Henry Dmitri, I don’t—” He cut me off before I could get fired up. “Gemma, I’m not going to lecture you about anything, so stand down. Although it is interesting that you mention Henry,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me. I took a deep breath. I had worked myself into a lather for no reason.

“I’m glad you’ve made a new friend, as I know how tough things have been for you, especialy lately,” he said. “Auntie mentioned that you’ve been talking with Henry on your new computer until late every night. That’s al wel and good, as long as you keep your grades up. If you do, then I’m fine with the choices you’re making.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” So, no battle?

“I just wanted to give you a head’s up that Lucian, and I assume Henry, wil be coming to the Sunday performance,” Ted said.

“Realy? Huh…” I was surprised. Henry hadn’t said anything about coming to the show. “But why did you need to tel me this now, rather than at the team meeting? Why the special conference?”

“Wel, Auntie and Irwin already know the Dmitris are coming. I just wanted to tel you one on one so if you had any objections, you know, because you and Henry have become friends. What I mean is, we’d realy like you to play the show, instead of Irina, but only if you’re ready. And I know it can be hard to perform in front of people that you like, so if you have any concerns, I wanted to give you an opportunity to address them with me.”

“I like a lot of people, Ted. I don’t have a problem performing in front of friends.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m thinking, uh, this might be different, you know, because you like like Henry. He’s more than just some kid from school, isn’t he?”

I started to giggle and unwound a paper clip sitting on the tabletop. Ted was trying to talk to me about my love life!

“Gemma, we’d like you to also take the curtain cal with us at the end of the show. You’re so terrific—Irina has realy shaped you into a world-class musician, and we don’t want to withhold anything this weekend. So we’d realy like you back behind the curtain. If you’re up for it, that is,” he said.

“I can handle that, I think.”

“And the curtain cal? In front of everyone, including Henry?”

“Sure, Ted. If that’s what you want.”

“Is it what you want?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“I’m fine, Ted. I can play the show. And do the bow. No big thing.” Irina had played the few shows we’d done since Delia’s death, but if Ted wanted me back in the chair, I could do it. It would be good for me. My violin kept me sane. And if it made Ted happy and assured the flow of Lucian’s money into circus coffers, then it was a win-win.

“Thanks for asking me, Ted. I’l be ready. And it doesn’t matter who’s in the audience,” I said. “I do like Henry. He’s a nice guy, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” Just saying the word love out loud made my ears flush. “You know I’l do whatever you need me to do for the good of the show.” I stabbed the end of the paper clip wire through a few shreds of torn paper.

“Thanks, Gemma. You’re a good kid. I just wanted to make sure…I didn’t want to blindside you,” he said.

“I’m tough, Uncle Ted,” I smiled.

“That’s what worries me most about you, though. You’re too tough sometimes. You’re only seventeen, for Pete’s sake, but you have such an old soul.” Ted’s voice took on a more somber tone.

“In affairs of the heart, my dear girl, wel, they’re not easy for any of us. And I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” We sat in silence for about a minute until I felt compeled to lighten the mood. I didn’t want to give him the chance to start talking about the birds and the bees and the abundant availability of condoms.

“Wel, again, thanks, Uncle Ted. Henry is just my friend, my very new one at that, so we’re cool. And I’l keep that heart of mine locked in its vault for safekeeping.”

He nodded and gave me a rare warm smile. It made me happy to see that Ted wasn’t al crust and horns. There was a softie hidden underneath that tough exterior, if you waited long enough for it to peek out from under the scales.

As I stood to leave, I caught the familiar spine of a book under a haphazard stack of newspapers next to the sink. La Una—the same text I’d just received in Mr. Harbourne’s philosophy class.

What was Ted doing with a copy of it? Kinda weird…maybe it’d been on the New York Times’ bestseler list and Marlene had picked up a copy for him. But Ted wasn’t a reader. And certainly not a reader of ultra-conservative ancient philosophers. I was just about to ask him but Ted had reaffixed his eyes to the screen of his computer, his eyebrows furrowed. Technology was not my dear uncle’s friend.

I reached out to grab the tarnished doorknob when Ted spoke again, looking up at me with the eyes of an old dog. “Gems, be good to an old man’s peace of mind. Be safe. Make good choices.

Mind your heart around Henry.” His request was kind but with an air of caution I’d never heard come from Ted.

“I wil, old man, I promise,” I said. He smiled again and lit another cigarette as I walked out.

As I headed toward the elephant enclosure to do my chores, a snippet of the conversation replayed itself in my head. I’m not in love with him or anything, I’d said. I stopped cold in my tracks, realizing that I had unwittingly looked into the eyes of the man who, by al practical definitions, had been my father, and told one whopper of a lie. And judging by Ted’s parting words to me, he realized it, too.

:14:

No one thinks of how much blood it costs.

—Dante Alighieri

Marlene caught up with me after dinner as I was leaving the meal tent. I was dying to check my email again before our team meeting, hopeful that Henry would’ve written. Since arriving home, I hadn’t heard from him either via email or text, and I was worried. That eye of his looked nasty. But Marlene looped her arm in mine, landed an impromptu smooch on my cheek, and detoured me to Ted’s trailer.

Email would have to wait.

Both uncles were waiting for us in Ted’s trailer, sipping cognac and puffing on cigars. Very masculine. Al they’d left out were a few chest beats and grunts, maybe a crotch scratch for effect. I was eager for Ted to get through whatever groundbreaking announcements he had so I could move on with my night, i.e., get back to my computer.

“Evening, ladies,” Irwin said as we closed the door behind us. I gave him a playful nudge in the shoulder and found a spot on the built-in couch paralel to the kitchenette.

“You’ve probably got homework, Gemma, so we’l keep this short,” Ted began. He puled out a stack of flyers that had been sent to local family-oriented businesses. The page contained al the usual info to sel the show, but was fancier, more elaborate than our old playbils. Lucian had hired a graphic designer to give the Cinzio Traveling Players an updated look. Better advertising had been part of the Dmitri Holdings strategy to boost attendance, and thus revenues. Although I was certain it pained Ted to outsource a job we had always handled, we were no graphic designers. In looking at the new flyers, I had to admit, they were slick. The fresh design had a professional flair that made Cinzio look legit. We were becoming a brand, a viable option for a family’s entertainment dolars.

The new marketing team had advised Ted to downplay the involvement of our captive animals, even though our track record was impeccable and our animals had always been treated like family. Instead the emphasis would be on our commitment to being a sustainable, eco-friendly band of talented artists, musicians, and performers, along the lines of Cirque du Soleil.

“For this weekend’s show, we’re going live with the Roulette,” Ted said. As the words fel out of his mouth, he puled out another stack of handbils, half-sheets, to be handed out at the gate and throughout the parking lot. A few hundred would be left at local businesses wiling to display them near front registers. The sunburst across the bottom read:

ALL NEW, NEVER BEFORE SEEN

DANTE’S FIRESTORM ROULETTE

My heart skipped a beat. What the hell? We weren’t ready with the Roulette. To move forward with this would be suicide, or homicide, depending on how you looked at it. Ted was seling this weekend’s show on a routine they had yet to nail with rubber blades. I seriously had to question his sanity.

But, then again, with Lucian Dmitri subsidizing the show, I figured that Ted must’ve been cornered when he agreed to do the Roulette. No wonder he’d been such a grouchy pain in the neck lately. His beloved show had been hijacked by a fat-cat megalomaniac. To say no to Lucian would’ve meant saying helo to the unemployment line.

Marlene and Irwin were unusualy quiet. No doubt they already knew about Ted’s plans, and it pissed me off that I was the last to find out. In their defense, though, I had been wrapped up in my own little world (school, Henry…) to have noticed much behind-the-scenes planning. But the Roulette—I would’ve noticed that, wouldn’t I? This wasn’t some wimpy card trick or cut-the-lady-in-half ilusion. This was a big stunt, with real flames, razor-sharp knives, and a spinning table, upon which would be strapped the very sentient body of my darling Auntie Marlene.

“Uncle Ted, come on. This is insanity. We’re not realy ready to do this in front of crowds. What if something goes wrong?

Shouldn’t we wait a few more months?” I said. I looked around at the stoic faces in the room. “Helo? Earth to suicidal maniacs! Is anyone listening to me?”

Ted looked up from his glass and cleared his throat. “We need to make this weekend’s matinee a memorable one,” he said. He reached for the cognac and poured two shots’ worth.

“Yeah, wel, using your wife as a pincushion on a spinning sheet of plywood is one way to make it memorable, I suppose.”

“Gemma, mind yourself,” Ted growled. “I told you earlier, Lucian is going to be here. He wants something spectacular to impress the crowd.”

“You told me the Dmitris were coming—you didn’t tel me you were sacrificing Aunt Marlene to keep Lucian happy,” I said, looking at Marlene. Her head was down; so was Irwin’s. “Wow, so this al comes down to corporate sponsorship dolars. Good to know the priorities around here.”

“No, I don’t think you do. We don’t have a choice,” Ted bit through an ice cube from his drink. “But if it’s any consolation, we’ve been very hard at work rehearsing.”

“Wel, I wouldn’t know that because I’m gone at public school al day,” I said.

“Don’t start.” Tensions were running high.

“Gemma, honey, Uncle Ted and I have been practicing with the dummy blades, and we did a ful run-through today with the real ones. And see? I’m fine. No holes!” Marlene laughed. She held out her intact shirt to show me the success of their rehearsal. As usual, she was doing her best to sel me on this, but her fake optimism was annoying. No wonder she had been so emotional and lovey-dovey after dinner. Mortality visited her today in the form of flying, burning steel.

“Uncle Irwin and I have been counting the beats, doing the calculations for months,” Ted said. “This isn’t a new trick for us.

We did one similar to it years ago, but you might have been too young to remember.”

“No, I remember it. But the trick I remember involved playing cards stapled to the turntable, and you intentionaly stabbed each card to the wood. You wanted the blades to hit their mark, only there wasn’t a live person on the table! If you missed, it was the Queen of Hearts who took a knife in the leg, not Marlene.”

“Some people have caled me the Queen of Hearts,” Marlene said, trying to be funny. I glared and shook my head at her. I got the impression that none of them took me seriously.

“It’s the same concept as with the cards, though, Gems. We work with a series of metronome-precise clicks, and each click is measured per revolution of the table. Ted is a skiled swordsman—

it’s a muscle memory thing—so trajectory isn’t a concern,” Irwin said. “It’s a mathematical certainty that he wil hit the board and not Auntie.”

“Fine. But now you’re going to add fire? Not even mathematics can control or predict fire. It has a mind of its own!” I felt like I was the adult trying to convince a trio of rebelious adolescents that playing with knives and fire was bad, bad, bad.

“Honey, come on now. If it makes you feel any better, I had a reading with Irina, and she didn’t see anything that would constitute a reason for worry,” Marlene said, “although she did say I would be going someplace far away very soon, whatever that means…” She winked at me and whispered behind a raised hand. “But I hope it means cabana boys and piña coladas.”

Irina reads tarot cards and tea leaves and works as the resident psychic when she’s not teaching me her mad skils on the violin. I shook my head at Marlene and her sily faith in al things hocus-pocus.

I knew Ted’s ilusions were just that—ilusions. I knew his secrets. And whichever way you slice it—pun intended—Dante’s Firestorm Roulette was not an ilusion. Which is why I was so confounded by their blasé attitudes surrounding the throwing of razor-sharp blades that had been set on fire at a spinning human target. It was 100 percent real, 100 percent dangerous, and 100

percent lethal if something went wrong.

“So…what am I supposed to be playing in this circus of the damned?” I said.