Read Online Girl in the Shadows by Gwenda Bond - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gwenda Bond
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crowd applauded.
Whew. I could still do magic, in front of people even.
I gathered up the fallen cards and worked my way from the midway’s far end toward the big top slowly and steadily, doing card and coin tricks, usually in handcuffs. The tangle of performers who’d been outside the big top during auditions had grown and morphed into an alternately roving and stationary arrangement of wonders.
This new world would require navigation. I’d have to map it each time I worked the crowd. Smaller tents and open-air stages dotted the sides in some sort of genius irregular pattern that must have been deliberate, if only you were Thurston, its architect. The Ferris wheel sat in the inexact center. The entire setup was designed to give an intriguing, memorable journey to the circus tent.
Dez’s stage was just past the Ferris wheel, prime real estate he’d probably charmed his way into. The wheel was an instant megahit, in constant operation with a long line of people waiting. I spotted a TV camera. It was currently filming the over-the-top, charismatic Dez.
After a moment’s hesitation, I walked to the back of the crowd and lingered to see his act. I should have known better.
He was in full charm mode, escorting a woman with her hair dyed a bright turquoise from the large gathered crowd—mostly female, I noted—up onto the stage. She was blushing at whatever he’d said. He motioned for her to lift her arms and placed the straps over her wrists, the exact same way he’d done for me the other day. Grinning Brandon was at the edge of the stage.
Dez spoke up, so the crowd could hear. “It takes real bravery to stand motionless while knives are being flung at you. Which is why I help out with a little light bondage. But Kristy assures me she’s ready and not at all afraid.”
Good for her. If that was true, she needed to be more suspicious of charming boys. So did I. The penny Dez had pressed into my palm earlier was tucked away in my pocket. Which made me feel increasingly dumb. Though maybe it was an okay kind of dumb to be?
I could deny it all I wanted, but I liked Dez’s attention. The assistants back in Vegas would have had lots of advice to give me backstage. Moira, they’d say, don’t fall for his lines. They’re just lines.
In this imaginary conversation, I replied, But what if they aren’t?
Dez swept a gaze out at the audience and . . . caught me watching. Maybe. A slight frown flitted over his face. Again, maybe. He was back in stage mode too quickly to be sure.
He lazily juggled a trio of knives, adding a fourth. They flashed like the sharp threats they were as the lights caught them at the highest part of the arc.
Then he began to throw.
The jaw-dropping effect was as strong from the audience point of view as from the target board. Though not as heart-pounding.
Kristy, the audience girl, flinched only once, and Dez clucked at her not to move. I knew I shouldn’t be standing here. I should leave. I fully expected him to make a heart shape around her, like he had around me. The thing he’d claimed I inspired.
It would only underline the fact that I wasn’t anything special to him. But a perverse need to see whether I was right made me stay rooted where I was.
And, yes, when she stepped away from the board, he had done just that. The knives formed a pretty yet sinister heart shape. He took her hand, and she bowed, blushing.
I bolted for the space in front of the next tent, my cheeks red too. This was another excellent reminder that I wasn’t here for distractions like Dez. I was here to work. Dumb was dumb.
The Cirque’s performance would start soon enough, the midway wrapping up. Thurston didn’t want us in direct competition. The crowd would be ushered out from a side exit at the end of the show, so that they didn’t end up on the dark and deserted midway.
People were beginning to flock toward the tent, tickets in hand. I held the straitjacket in front of me, making it clear I was
Whew. I could still do magic, in front of people even.
I gathered up the fallen cards and worked my way from the midway’s far end toward the big top slowly and steadily, doing card and coin tricks, usually in handcuffs. The tangle of performers who’d been outside the big top during auditions had grown and morphed into an alternately roving and stationary arrangement of wonders.
This new world would require navigation. I’d have to map it each time I worked the crowd. Smaller tents and open-air stages dotted the sides in some sort of genius irregular pattern that must have been deliberate, if only you were Thurston, its architect. The Ferris wheel sat in the inexact center. The entire setup was designed to give an intriguing, memorable journey to the circus tent.
Dez’s stage was just past the Ferris wheel, prime real estate he’d probably charmed his way into. The wheel was an instant megahit, in constant operation with a long line of people waiting. I spotted a TV camera. It was currently filming the over-the-top, charismatic Dez.
After a moment’s hesitation, I walked to the back of the crowd and lingered to see his act. I should have known better.
He was in full charm mode, escorting a woman with her hair dyed a bright turquoise from the large gathered crowd—mostly female, I noted—up onto the stage. She was blushing at whatever he’d said. He motioned for her to lift her arms and placed the straps over her wrists, the exact same way he’d done for me the other day. Grinning Brandon was at the edge of the stage.
Dez spoke up, so the crowd could hear. “It takes real bravery to stand motionless while knives are being flung at you. Which is why I help out with a little light bondage. But Kristy assures me she’s ready and not at all afraid.”
Good for her. If that was true, she needed to be more suspicious of charming boys. So did I. The penny Dez had pressed into my palm earlier was tucked away in my pocket. Which made me feel increasingly dumb. Though maybe it was an okay kind of dumb to be?
I could deny it all I wanted, but I liked Dez’s attention. The assistants back in Vegas would have had lots of advice to give me backstage. Moira, they’d say, don’t fall for his lines. They’re just lines.
In this imaginary conversation, I replied, But what if they aren’t?
Dez swept a gaze out at the audience and . . . caught me watching. Maybe. A slight frown flitted over his face. Again, maybe. He was back in stage mode too quickly to be sure.
He lazily juggled a trio of knives, adding a fourth. They flashed like the sharp threats they were as the lights caught them at the highest part of the arc.
Then he began to throw.
The jaw-dropping effect was as strong from the audience point of view as from the target board. Though not as heart-pounding.
Kristy, the audience girl, flinched only once, and Dez clucked at her not to move. I knew I shouldn’t be standing here. I should leave. I fully expected him to make a heart shape around her, like he had around me. The thing he’d claimed I inspired.
It would only underline the fact that I wasn’t anything special to him. But a perverse need to see whether I was right made me stay rooted where I was.
And, yes, when she stepped away from the board, he had done just that. The knives formed a pretty yet sinister heart shape. He took her hand, and she bowed, blushing.
I bolted for the space in front of the next tent, my cheeks red too. This was another excellent reminder that I wasn’t here for distractions like Dez. I was here to work. Dumb was dumb.
The Cirque’s performance would start soon enough, the midway wrapping up. Thurston didn’t want us in direct competition. The crowd would be ushered out from a side exit at the end of the show, so that they didn’t end up on the dark and deserted midway.
People were beginning to flock toward the tent, tickets in hand. I held the straitjacket in front of me, making it clear I was
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