Carousel Read online

  She skipped the weird food booth, the one with spiders and scorpions on sticks and calamari and deep-fried Nutella—although she might come back for the deep-fried Nutella, now that she thought about it—and went straight for the regular fair food. A corn dog, fried jalapeños and a double-sized water bottle. She took particular pleasure in not adhering to her mother’s diet. Nothing beat fair food for deliciousness that was bad in all the right ways.

  She was halfway through her jalapeños before she admitted to herself that she was stalling.

  This was a mistake. If she wasn’t qualified to flip burgers or hang clothes, what made her think that she’d be qualified for a highly specialized circus?

  She had some tumbling skills from when she had taken gymnastics all through middle school and high school. She’d attended a few competitions, but it had mostly been recreational for her, much to her more competitive mother’s chagrin. Though her mom hadn’t been one of those moms, Caroline thought she would have appreciated a trophy or two to help her brag about her daughter.

  However, Caroline didn’t think that a couple of cartwheels, round-offs and a flip, followed by a walking handstand, was going to get her anywhere in a circus that had a standard of strongmen carrying pianos and clowns risking life and limb with pointy objects.

  Caroline wiped her mouth with a napkin. Then she threw away her trash and tried to stand tall, even though her spine felt like someone had wrapped wire around it.

  Fake it till you make it. Another one of her policies.

  Not that that had been working for her either.

  She suddenly wished she’d had the sense to ask for a car for her sixteenth birthday. Her parents had indicated that they’d be willing to get her a used one, but she’d decided to ask for the newest phone instead, much good it could do her right now.

  If she had her own car, she could sleep in it until the registration went out. Not the best scenario in midsummer when the nights were anything but a dream. Still, at least she’d have someplace to stay when this venture failed to pan out.

  Really, when it came down to it, she’d been so much of a dumbass thinking this whole running-away-from-home thing would work. Because it succeeded for toddlers so often.

  There it was, the fortune teller’s tent. The flap that acted as a door had been drawn down. A sign next to the door hung from a pin in the canvas. Please wait your turn.

  Everyone was being polite, then.

  She waited her turn and listened to that distant, dark, circus calliope music, wondering whether she should take her bag off her shoulder again. When she’d been eating, the lack of a burden had given her shoulder enough time to realize the abuse she’d given it. Caroline now moved the bag to the other shoulder, but her right shoulder had already whispered over to the left how heavy the duffel was. Her left shoulder protested right away. But she didn’t want to put the bag down if she’d just have to pick it up again.

  It was such a small thing, but it still managed to occupy her mind until the person before her exited with her friend. Caroline ducked under the flap. It fell closed behind her.

  The inside of the tent looked exactly the way a person would expect a fortune teller’s tent to look. It had to be a bitch to transport, full of small psychic accessories like candles, wooden idols, beads, scarves, incense and other trinkets. On the other side of the delicate table, a bare-chested man lounged in an equally delicate wooden chair. He appeared far more comfortable in that chair than he should.

  His black leather pants had to be just as uncomfortable as the chair, but he wore them as though they were thin cotton. It couldn’t have been more revealing than if it were thin cotton, and he was sitting back and slouching slightly with his legs parted. Every line of him called attention to his hips, where he wore a beaded brown leather belt that slung over the pants and draped over the placket.

  He looked good. Caroline didn’t usually ogle, but she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t exceptionally one thing or the other, although there was strength in his limbs and in the muscles of his chest and abdomen, and his legs looked really good in those trousers. He was attractive but not devastatingly gorgeous. Not at all her type, yet she couldn’t look away. For a few moments, her mouth was too dry to speak.

  She’d say it was his eyes, a captivating amber hazel, except they weren’t what she’d first noticed. Now, however, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from them—kind but guarded.

  It made a girl wonder what a man like him would have to guard behind them.

  “Please, sit down,” the fortune teller said.

  His sensual lips quirked a little as she nodded and sat down without a word in one of the two chairs across from him. She set her bag on the other chair. It managed not to break anything.

  “Now, what can I do for you? Fortunes are ten dollars.” He nodded to the folded card in front of the crystal ball sitting at the center of the table.

  Unfettered Fortunes, $10.

  “No,” Caroline said. She swallowed and tried to coax saliva back into her mouth. It was only then that she noticed there was another woman in the tent.

  For some reason that made her flush even darker from embarrassment—as if it wasn’t hot enough. The woman reclined in a short armchair on the other side of the tent, watching. She had almost black hair streaked with dark red, and she wore a simple red leather, A-line dress that matched her hair. Like the leather pants, it had to be hot as hell, but she also didn’t appear any less comfortable than the fortune teller.

  Caroline briefly envied her breasts, expertly set off by the low-cut corset bodice. Caroline had a decent handful, but she’d always expected more of herself.

  “Don’t mind me,” the woman said, smiling gently, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t the same empty smile as the people who ran the booths, and Caroline didn’t get the impression that the woman was angry with her for staring. Instead, her dark, kohled eyes appeared…concerned? “I’m apprenticed to him. I just observe.”

  “Oh. Um, okay.” Caroline directed her nervous attention back to the fortune teller. “I, um…God, I don’t even know how to say this now that I’m here.”

  “Would you like me to help you?” the fortune teller said, his grin broadening.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I am a fortune teller, my dear. Even if your fortune is not what you’ve come for, I can use my talent to save you some stammering,” the fortune teller said. He placed his hands on the table and gestured her closer. “How about this? I will divine your purpose for being here, free of charge.”

  “Seriously?” Caroline asked. Her hands twitched on her lap, far more ready to jump into the fortune teller’s hands than she was.

  “Absolutely no charge, unless you ask about your past or future,” the fortune teller said.

  Caroline tentatively set her hands in his, palms up for him to read. He coaxed her hands back around.

  “I’m not going to read your palms, although I could,” he explained. “I’m reading you. I do not require connection, but it helps.”

  “You are Bell Madoc, aren’t you?” Caroline said. Her voice came out smaller than she would have liked, but he didn’t mock her mousiness.

  “Now who’s the psychic?”

  Caroline ducked her head. “Your sword swallower told me I’d find you here,” she said.

  “Yes, he did, didn’t he? He didn’t send you to the Ringmaster because I deal with the hiring and firing of personnel in Arcanium. And that is why you’re here, isn’t it, Caroline?”

  Caroline jerked away from him. He made no effort to keep her there. He withdrew his own hands as well, resting them on his thighs as casually as they’d been when she’d come in.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” the fortune teller said. “I’m very good at what I do. I would like you to ask me, now that I already know the question.”

  “Why should I ask if you already know the question?” Caroline asked.

  “Protocol. How would you like for me to
offer you a job without actually saying so?”

  Caroline couldn’t tell if he was serious. He might be the person in charge, but he was still circus folk, and she still wasn’t. Maybe this was all an elaborate joke. She flushed again, this time out of embarrassed anger. However, Caroline knew better than to show anger to a potential boss.

  As though that had worked so far either.

  If she sounded resentful, it was only because she was. But this was the only way she knew how to play the game. This was what all the seminars said, and the seminars had to be right, because they’d gotten her to this point, begging for a job from a goddamn circus when there was no fucking way in hell that she was going to be hired. She knew that, and if the fortune teller was psychic, he knew it too.

  “I guess I came here to ask whether you had a job opening,” Caroline said.

  “What did you have in mind?” the fortune teller asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Caroline said. “Working at one of the booths. Or lifting and carrying things from one place to another. I can do that.”

  “You’re young enough to still be in college. Are you looking for something for the rest of the summer, or do you want longer-term employment?” the fortune teller asked, steepling his fingers near his chest.

  “I was looking for a summer job, yes,” Caroline said.

  “I might have something for you, but I’m afraid what I have to offer would demand at least a year of service,” the fortune teller said. “We are a traveling circus, not a forum for temporary help.”

  Caroline lowered her eyes. “So that’s a no, then?”

  “Not necessarily,” the fortune teller said. He stood and slowly circled around the table, around her. “Would you be amenable to taking a year off your studies in order to fill the opening here in Arcanium? I could offer you little more than salaried minimum wage. However, in addition to the salary, we provide a place to stay and we pay for food and gas as circus expenses. What do you say, Caroline?”

  She looked up at him as he returned to his position across from her behind the crystal ball.

  Her father had planned to use tough love if she didn’t find a job, so she needed this job, any job offered to her. On the other hand, if she didn’t go back to university in the fall, Caroline was pretty sure he’d pitch another fit and withdraw tuition anyway.

  But if she worked for a year, maybe she’d have the funds to pay for her senior year herself. She already had most of her core subjects and major courses under her belt. Plenty of college kids took a break after graduation. Some people studied abroad. Why would it be such a big deal if she took some time off between college years instead? She’d be following a traveling circus across the country. There was no denying that, while it wouldn’t necessarily help her résumé, it would certainly be a colorful addition.

  Caroline had already run away from home. What would be the harm in pissing her father off the rest of the way? The only thing she could think of that would cause them to outright disown her was if she ran away from home to be a stripper or a prostitute, and Caroline was pretty sure that if she didn’t join the circus, those would be the next occupations in line.

  She wasn’t one to make major decisions in the matter of a few minutes. However, the fortune teller was waiting for her reply, his fae but strong face placid, not at all impatient—as though he could wait years for her answer.

  He appeared young enough, but he was definitely a man, more adult than her, with the strong cheekbones and defined, slightly sharp jaw of someone who had lost all the softness of his youth. Yet there was also something about him that somehow made him immeasurably older. Caroline’s experience with older adults mostly involved how dismissive they could be, already well-established while she was yet searching.

  It came out in the questions they asked. Where was she going to college? What did she intend to do with that major? As though college was the bridge and a job her destination, as though she couldn’t possibly be doing anything important or interesting now. They only wanted to know what she would become, not what she was.

  The worst part was that she never knew the answer either way.

  But this… This would be an adventure. A chance to get out of this damn city that had nothing for her, away from a family that didn’t want her, to see places she’d never seen before, to be with people that she’d never have had the chance to meet otherwise. Scary as it all was, wasn’t that why she had come?

  Well, Daddy, you wanted me to get a job. Suck it.

  “I’ll have to let the university know that I’m leaving, but I think that all sounds reasonable,” Caroline replied. “For a year.”

  “We can address the status of your employment at the end of that year,” the fortune teller said. “Perhaps circus life will suit you.”

  “I—I don’t think so. Not in the long run. I mean, look at me. I’ve got a little gymnastics in me, but I have two left feet when I dance, so it’s not as though I could do anything pretty,” Caroline said with a self-deprecating smile.

  “Or ugly?” the fortune teller added, tilting his head to the side.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she said slowly. “Different. And I’m not different. I’m just…ordinary.”

  “Well, there are ways around that, my dear,” the fortune teller said.

  The woman in the corner coughed.

  “But what I have in mind for you doesn’t require anything more than ordinary. It might not be the most entertaining job in Arcanium, but you’ll probably experience a few thrills nevertheless,” he added.

  “I know it’s not all glamor and luxury. I promise. That’s not what I’m looking for or expecting,” Caroline said.

  She recalled her experience as a theater techie in high school. She’d been a jack of all trades back then—including makeup, costumes and set, her little five-foot-four self toting ten-foot pylons across the stage. The stage was a shiny and colorful place, but she knew all the nitty-gritty that went into making everything look that good.

  “Very well,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after tonight’s performance and the closing of the circus before the Ringmaster can offer you the contract. But a verbal agreement is enough for me, and I can show you what you can do for us until then,” the fortune teller said.

  Her stomach lurched down to her knees. All her instincts said to get a contract before she worked. At the same time, it seemed a waste of a good con to get her to work for only a day without paying her. Arcanium had cast and crew aplenty from what she had seen. They didn’t need her to work there. Bell Madoc had simply said he might have something for her. There was a difference.

  And at this point, she couldn’t afford to be picky.

  “What do you need?” Caroline asked.

  “Maya, love, can you man the tent until I return?” the fortune teller asked. The smile he gave the woman made him downright beautiful. And the way Madoc said ‘love’ seemed significant, much more significant than his familiar use of ‘my dear’.

  “I’ll do whatever you need of me,” Maya said. She pushed herself up out of the armchair and took Madoc’s place. He kissed her lips, laughing at the inside joke.

  Caroline looked away. The moment was entirely too private.

  Then Madoc stepped around the table and beckoned for Caroline to follow him.

  She shouldered her bag again, biting back the impulse to groan, and followed him out into the summer sun.

  Chapter Two

  He walked next to her as he led her, his hand near her shoulders. She felt the warmth of his palm where he almost touched her. This way she didn’t have to be all self-conscious about staring at his ass. Just a glimpse of it when he’d walked out of his tent told Caroline that it was a fine, fine ass indeed, and she’d make a total fool out of herself if she had to walk behind it.

  She hoped she got used to the tight-fitting leather and amount of skin that almost everyone in the cast seemed willing to display. Sure, she was showing more of her body right now
than some of them with what she was wearing, since she was dressed for a casual summer. But it was somehow different.

  She wondered whether Madoc would want her in a similarly skin-baring costume. It wasn’t like she had anything exciting to share, just like she didn’t have many skills to offer. She was only an ordinary girl.

  Who needed this job. If Bell wanted her to strip naked and do everything covered with only a peacock feather fan, she’d probably do it.

  When they turned around the curve of the big top, the scent of the animals hit her first as they walked nearer to a compound that contained two elephants and two camels. She dearly hoped she wouldn’t have to scoop animal shit. Caroline had already established that she’d do it, but she probably wouldn’t do it happily.

  “Don’t worry, Caroline. We already have staff that takes care of the dirty work,” Madoc said. “What I have in mind for you requires minimal heavy lifting or bad smells. We all end up downwind now and then, of course, but everyone gets used to it after a while.”

  “Okay, how did you do that?” Caroline asked.

  “I told you, I’m psychic. Of course, you could have just been looking at the animal paddock with abject fear in your eyes.”

  “I wasn’t afraid,” Caroline protested.

  “Abject concern, then,” Madoc replied. “But there’s no use lying to a psychic.”

  “You’re not really, right?” Caroline said, looking at him from the side. “I mean, psychics don’t exist.”

  “You’d be surprised what exists, my dear. Here we are.”

  “The carousel?” Caroline asked.

  Its music reached every part of the circus with a subtlety surprising for something that made every effort to be as persistent on the ear as an ice cream truck. The minor key made the music a little easier to bear than if it had been a cheerful major-key tune. The creepy tinkling music, this time from a harpsicord, became louder and creepier as they approached. It reminded her of the horror movie binges she’d shared with her dormmates during the week of Halloween in her freshman and sophomore years.