Peace Sells (Steel)
It’s a Saturday in mid-May, and we’re still in Mississippi. It’s raining this afternoon, and the smell of damp earth mixes with the stink of the rides. Doesn’t matter, the carnival is busy anyway. That’s the thing with these little towns. The weekend the carnival comes to town is the only thing that happens all year.
I’m tired of standing out in the rain, and am going to swing by Emily’s booth to dry off under the awning.
But first I’m getting her a funnel cake. I even paid for it, and am loading it up with chocolate, toffee sauce and whip cream.
I make my way down the midway. A couple of chicks in shirts soaked from the rain and clinging to their tits are coming the other direction. They’re bleached blondes, and the taller one has tits so big that half the men she walks past crane their heads for another look.
They see my yellow carnival t-shirt, and bee-line towards me. These girls know they can come to a carny for a mind-blowing fuck no local boy is capable of giving them.
Last year, I’d have had both of them at once in my room. This year, all I can think of is avoiding them.
“Hey, sexy man,” big tits says.
I ignore them and keep on walking.
“At least let us feel them muscles,” one of them shouts after I’m past them.
“We’ll give you a dollar if you show us them abs of yours,” the other shouts.
I used to pocket a pretty penny from local girls wanting to see my body. This year I’ve been turning it all down, which Razor’s been loving. He’s raking in all my turnaways, and is planning to buy a PlayStation from all the extra money.
Not breaking my stride, I ignore them and arrive at Emily’s booth. She’s standing there, somehow managing to make the yellow carnival t-shirt sexy.
“Hey, sexy,” I say, sitting on the counter. “I brought you something.”
Emily comes over to me, and leans in for a kiss.
“God, that smells good,” Emily says, breathing in the funnel cake.
“Don’t suppose you brought me one of them,” Cess says, tossing a softball in her hand.
“Next time,” I say.
“You said that last time,” Cess says.
“How’s it going, you selling any?” I ask Emily.
“She’s a natural. Ain’t you, Goldie?” Cess says.
“Not surprised. That pretty face could get a man to do anything,” I say.
“It worked on you,” Emily says and laughs.
She takes a big bite of the funnel cake, her eyes close as the flavor fills her mouth. That’s the look I’m used to seeing in our trailer, not from a bite of food.
A big, blond dude slaps five dollars on the counter. He’s with a buddy, a guy only slightly shorter who’s wearing a polo shirt. They look like the kind of people I’d expect Emily would be related to.
Cess snaps up the money and holds out three balls to him.
“I want them from her,” he says, nodding to Emily.
My attention is drawn from Emily’s pretty face to the idiot trying to win an impossible game.
“She’s busy, you gotta take them from me,” Cess says.
“I said, I want them from her,” he says.
The dude’s face coats in a smug smile as he stares at Cess. The back of my neck prickles. This guy had better drop it, if he knows what’s good for him.
“Your choice, you take my balls, or you forfeit your money,” Cess says.
“Oh, I think that pretty girl wants to give me the balls.”
It pisses me off, but I know how common fuckers like these guys are. I take another bite of funnel cake and wait to see how Emily handles the situation.
“Now careful boys, you wouldn’t want my boyfriend here to pulverize your pretty-boy faces now, would you?” Emily says.
“He’s your boyfriend? Sweetheart, you can do a lot better than him. Let me show you all the things a real man can do.” He pauses and stares at me. “Not some scumbag like him.”
Enough. I slip off the counter and ball my fist, intending to knock the mother-fucker down with a right hook.
“This is nothing, we get at least one of him an hour,” Emily says, a worried look in her eyes.
“Don’t mean he doesn’t need his head kicking in.”
A crowd has gathered round the booth. Everything inside of me is telling me to beat the guy into next Tuesday, but I decide it’ll be more fun to humiliate him in front of the town. He’ll be the laughing stock for years to come.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you six balls, no charge. If you get one in, good things will happen.”
“Good things like what?” he says.
“Good things like I won’t break your faces,” I say, and take another bite of the funnel cake.
“And I’ll give you the balls you paid for,” Emily says, laughing. She knows it’s impossible for them to win. Emily walks back to the baskets, getting the balls. But I know the real thing she’s doing is making sure the angles on the baskets are set to impossible.
“I don’t know, Steel, that’s giving them pretty good odds. He looks like he knows how to throw a ball, ain’t no way you’ll win that one,” Cess says, winking at me.
“Six balls and you don’t think we can get one in?” the blond laughs, “I’m a pitcher.”
“Line ‘em up, Cess,” I say.
Cess puts the six balls on the counter, three in front of each of them. He picks up the first ball, aims, and throws. The ball hits the basket, and bounces out again.
“Five more tries to prove you’re really a pitcher,” I say, wiping toffee sauce from the corner of my mouth.
He ignores me, and takes another throw. The ball hits the back of the peach basket and bounces out.
“I hope you don’t treat women the way you treat the balls, just nailing it as hard as you can. It takes finesse,” I say, smirking.
“Up yours,” he says.
He throws the next ball, gentler this time, but it still bounces out. The guy’s got good aim, I’ll give him that.
“This is bullshit,” he says, looking around at the crowd.
“Ain’t no bullshit. Pass me some balls, Goldie, I’ll show him how it’s done.” Emily gets two balls out of the basket at the far end. I take one from her, look at the asshole and say, “I only need one.”
She tosses the other ball in her hand, and I take aim.
“Pay attention, you might learn something,” I say and release the ball into the basket Emily took the balls from.
It lands in the basket and thuds against the ball that’s already in it. The ball she left in it stops the new ball from bouncing out again.
“Your turn,” I say, looking at the crowd and laughing. I lean against the counter, glaring at him as he takes aim and I take another bite of the funnel cake.
“Ah, come on, let’s stop embarrassing the poor guy,” Emily says.
“Shut up,” the guy snaps.
He throws two more balls, both of them hit the basket and bounce out again.
“Seems like this town is in need of a better pitcher,” I say.
The crowd laughs, and the guy turns red with anger and embarrassment. He throws the last ball, and it bounces out again, of course. He puts his head down, mutters something under his breath and pushes his way through the crowd.
“That was fucking hilarious, you crack me up,” Emily says and gives me a quick kiss.
Her kiss floods me with heat, and I know I made the right decision in humiliating the fuck out of the guy instead of throwing that punch. Various people from the crowd have now lined up for their chance at doing what the town’s star pitcher couldn’t. Emily takes the first guy’s money, an old guy wearing a t-shirt that barely covers his beer gut.
She hands him three balls and directs him to the basket I used, with the extra ball still in it. The guy takes aim and his first ball lands in the basket.
I look at the crowd and say, “Good to see there’s someone in this town who knows how to throw a ball.”
They laugh and some even clap. I’m buzzing from defeating the asshole. Surprisingly, it was far more satisfying that giving him a black eye.
Leaning across the counter, Emily throws her arm around my neck and pulls me close. I crush my mouth against hers, reveling in the taste of my woman.