“Man! You cheat like your feet stink!”
Tucker scowled at Sara who flipped him the bird.
“You’re just a terrible poker player, Tucker, and my feet do not stink!”
Tucker stared down at the single quarter left in front of him, at the large pile next to Sara, and then his eyes narrowed as he took in a grinning Ollo.
I was pretty sure that the deck had been stacked in Sara’s favor, but it was hard to catch Ollo at it—he was a master of sleight of hand. There’d been a sorry lack of Aces in the last few hands, and now suddenly Sara had all four of them laid out on the table.
She giggled, one hand over her mouth and the other resting on her belly.
I glanced at Kes, and his knowing look told me that he’d seen exactly what Ollo was up to.
“Face it, mothertucker, your brain doesn’t move as fast as your mouth.”
“Never mind,” said Aimee, patting his arm as she smiled at Tucker’s indignant face. “You know what they say, ‘unlucky at cards but lucky in love’.”
Tera laughed and leaned her head against his cheek.
“See? Always an upside.”
Tucker sighed and tossed his worthless cards on the table.
“I’m going to need more sugar than that, sweet girl of mine. Let’s go home—leave the scamming to these losers.”
They stood up together, Tera hugging everyone as Tucker eyed Ollo casually shuffling the card deck and grinning up at him.
“One day I’ll catch you cheatin’,” Tucker grumbled.
Ollo laughed. “Not in this lifetime,” and he winked. “Coulda been worse—we coulda played strip poker, then see who’s got cards up their . . . sleeves.”
“Yuk!” said Tera and Aimee in unison.
Sara leaned against me, sleepily counting her winnings. I was surprised because we hadn’t been so friendly lately and besides, I was supposed to be staying away from her.
“I’ve won $23.75!” she said happily.
“Nice going. And you made twice that amount whipping Tucker’s ass at Halo.”
Her eyes glowed, the heavy lids drooping, long lashes casting shadows over her eyes.
“That was fun,” she said. “But I’m so tired, I can hardly move. I think I’ll just sleep here.”
Without a word, I scooped her up into my arms, smiling as she gave a little squeal.
“Zef! What are you doing?”
“Your taxi,” I said gruffly. “It’s an all-inclusive door-to-bedroom-door service.”
She gave a snort of amusement but didn’t object as I limped into the RV, my brace clanging against the metal doorway, and I placed her carefully on the bed, taking off her shoes and tucking the quilt in around her.
“Thank you, Zef,” she said sleepily. Then her eyes opened and she stared up. “Why are you so nice to me?”
I stared back, trying to find the elusive words, but I failed. Again.
“Go to sleep, Sara.”
Her eyes flickered with disappointment, then closed, and soon she was deeply asleep.
I watched for a moment as her chest rose and fell steadily and her pink lips popped open just a fraction.
I could hear Kes and Aimee talking quietly in their room, so I closed the door and went back to the others. Zach and Luke had left, too, and Ollo had stepped outside to the bonfire, and now sat with Bo curled up in his lap.
The flames were smaller now, flickering as the bonfire began to die, but they reflected in Ollo’s eyes, making him seem unearthly, something ancient and beyond time.
The world had changed around him and I wondered if he was the last of the true carnies, born on the road with many miles behind him.
He took another slug of Bourbon, careful not to disturb Bo, then passed me the bottle.
“I didn’t even see you cheating,” I said, raising the bottle in a salute.
He gave a rough chuckle.
“You’re not supposed to, that’s the point.”
“Tucker got played.”
Ollo grinned at me.
“You all got played. You were all too busy making moon eyes at the women folk to notice what I was doing. If Tucker had caught on earlier, I’d have blamed you. Check your pants pocket for a pair of Kings, hotshot.”
Frowning, I was amazed when I found the King of Hearts and the King of Spades in the pocket of my sweatpants.
“I don’t know how you did that, old man, but don’t you be puttin’ your hands anywhere near my pants again!”
He cackled loudly, waking a grumpy Bo who showed his objection by baring his teeth and jumping from Ollo’s lap and disappearing into the night.
Ollo sighed, stretching out his short legs.
“The Wampanoag tribe are from the East coast and they tell the legend of Katama. In it a girl turns into a dolphin to be with the man she loved. She followed her heart through some hard decisions and ultimately brought peace to the Wampanoag Nation.”
“Has anyone ever said that you talk in riddles, old man.”
“She’s a good girl.”
I didn’t bother to ask who he meant but his words were painful to hear.
“She’s too young.”
“Says who?”
“Immature.”
“You act like a big kid yourself half the time.”
He smiled to himself.
“I don’t know if I can trust her,” and this time my voice was serious.
“Maybe you can and maybe you can’t. But it doesn’t matter who she is or what she did. It’s who is she now, that matters; what she does here. The carnival is a place to become the person you could be or should be; a place to start over. You of all people know that. She hides the truth from you, and I get that you’re angry, but she has her reasons. She’ll tell you one day.”
“I can’t trust her.”
“You can trust your own eyes.”
I sighed. “Maybe.”
“It’s no secret that you have feelings for this girl.”
“I . . .”
“Look after her.”
“If she lets me.”
“You don’t see it, but she’s good for you.”
“Yeah? Because I could swear meeting her has aged me ten years.”
He smiled and leaned back on his arms.
“You’re more connected. Before, you were always on the outside looking in, but she’s brought you into the circle, into the family. That’s important.”
He took another slug of Bourbon and passed the bottle back to me.
“What about your family, Ollo? I mean your parents, not . . . us.”
“The dirt in the forest is my father and the stars above are my mother.”
“How much of that Bourbon have you had?”
We sat by the dying fire, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty, and I listened to stories of Ollo’s early days with the carnival: the drifting, the grifting, the canvasmen and ride jocks, the time he’d been a jointee and ran a pool game named the Tubs of Fun, all the gloriously untethered life of a traveling carnival.
“The world is changing and maybe traveling carnivals won’t survive,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself, “but people will always need a little magic in their lives.”
He looked across at me, his face in darkness, only the eyes alive in his shadowy face.
“And the show you boys do, that’s real magic. Motorcycle guys like you were outlaws who ran from the cops, and sold photos and later videos of their tricks, but now it’s big business. You’re the new wave carnies, but there’ll always be sawdust in your blood. Sawdust and stardust.”
“And on that note . . .” I stood up unsteadily, “I’m gonna hit the head then pass out. You need a hand anywhere, old man?”
Ollo shook his head.
“Nope. I’m just gonna sit a while. You go on now.”
I stumbled into the kitchen, trying not to mash up my knee again as I crashed around, drinking water direct from the tap. Then I limped, hopped and staggered to my bed.
Wonderful invention, beds.
I woke up with a start when Kes pounded on my door around four in the morning.
I blinked as he opened the door and light poured into the room. His face was tense and worried.
“Aimee’s having stomach pains. I’m driving her to the hospital now.”
I was wide awake instantly, ignoring my pounding headache.
“Whatever you need, Kes, it’s yours.”
“Thanks, man. It’s probably nothing, but . . .”
“Yeah, I get it. I’ll let everyone know. I’ve got my cell if you need me.”
He nodded curtly and turned away to put his arm around Aimee protectively. She looked pale and was bundled up in a quilt. She gave me a wan smile then let Kes lead her out. A second later, I heard Zach’s truck start up.
I couldn’t go back to sleep after that, even though my body craved it. I headed to the kitchen and brewed some coffee, drinking two cups before heading to the fridge and rooting around for something to eat. I glanced at my phone every few minutes, but there were no messages.
Frustrated and worried, I stepped outside.
The air was cool this early in the morning, when the sky was gray, just a few pale streaks of light hinting at the sun hovering below the horizon.
The fairground was silent, only the soft sounds of the calves and lambs from the petting zoo, their mournful cries carrying faintly on the light breeze.
I limped along the midway, the stalls shut, the games empty, the rides still. I felt the weight of its history—not just the hundred years it had been open, but all the carnivals, all the fairs and circuses, all those carnies who’d traveled the world with their tent shows and plays, tricks and treats, rides and surprises.
And I felt proud to be part of that tradition, a world of outsiders within a world of people who belonged. But I was part of something. It might not be important or saving lives, but I’d come to believe that in our own way we mattered. What I did mattered—entertainment, a little magic in a digital world. And I had a family.
With that sense of belonging lodged inside me, I made my way back to the RV, wanting more caffeine and calories.
But in the gloom of shadows, something caught my eye, a dark shape by Ollo’s RV.
As I came closer, I saw that it was Ollo himself, slumped at the bottom of the steps. Bo was clinging to him, fast asleep. I smiled to myself, deciding that last night’s Bourbon and poker match was responsible.
I crouched down next to him and shook his shoulder gently
“Wake up, old man. You’re making the place look untidy.”
There was no movement and I wondered just how much Ollo had put away last night. For a small guy, he could sink a lot of shots before it affected him. Years of practice, I guess.
Bo opened his eyes and chirruped loudly, probably something very rude by the expression on his face for disturbing his beauty sleep, then scampered off, looking for more peaceful lodgings.
I shook Ollo’s shoulder again and he groaned softly, his forehead creasing.
“Hey, Ollo. Come on, I’ll help you inside.”
He opened his eyes, trying to focus.
“Can’t . . . can’t seem to catch my breath,” he coughed.
By now I was getting worried. I helped him up and half carried him inside. He trudged slowly to his bedroom and clambered onto the bed, his breathing fast and shallow.
“Oh, man, you don’t look so good, Ollo. I think I should call a doctor.”
“No, no doctors. Idiots don’t know anything about being old,” he sighed. “Just pass me those pills over there.”
I gave him the small bottle and watched as he swallowed two tiny pills and washed them down with water.
“Feeling better already,” he said tiredly, giving me a weak smile.
“Ollo, seriously . . .”
“Now listen, boy,” he said, opening his eyes and glaring at me. “What’s wrong with me they can’t fix. I’d rather die than go back in a hospital. Last time they tried to put me in a retirement village, said I couldn’t cope by myself. What do they know? Well, I’ll tell you something: this is where I belong. This is my home, and this is where I’ll die. My choice. You understand?”
I nodded and stood up slowly.
“Yeah, Ollo. I understand. But you need anything, you tell me. Deal?”
He coughed out a wheezy laugh.
“Getting soft in your old age, Zef.”
I grinned with relief.
“Fuck you, old man,” and turned to walk out, still smiling.
I’d just made it across the threshold of my own RV when my phone vibrated in my pocket with a text from Kes.
All ok.
I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes.