Tina pouted. "Well, that was because she had the best to teach her, that's why I want you."
He smiled; sometimes she was so blatantly obvious it touched him. He leaned his back against one wall, staring at the posters. "See that one from Monte Carlo? That was her first solo performance. Then there's Italy, and France..."
Tina put her hands over her ears. "I don't want to hear about her, all I want is to know if you are ditching her, getting a divorce."
"Ditching her?"
"Well, separating, whatever you want to call it!"
The trailer door banged and Mike, wearing Kellerman's hat, popped his head round the door. "We're almost set up, sir, if you want to come over, we're ready to go in about fifteen minutes."
"Thanks, Mike! I'll be there."
Mike gave Tina a good once-over, and she glared at him as he closed the door. Grimaldi was checking some of the broken pictures. One was of Ruda with Mamon, she was sitting astride him as if he were a pony — she was laughing. "You know, she hardly ever laughed when we first met, was always so serious."
Tina swung one foot. "Oh please, no past glories, I get bored with all your past glories. All I am concerned with is the present, and the promises you make and don't keep."
Grimaldi replaced the broken frame, and hung the picture up without the glass. "I'll talk to her some more after rehearsal."
Tina clasped him in a hug from behind. "Will we keep him?" She pointed to a picture of Mamon.
Grimaldi shook his head. "No... she will never part with him."
She clung tighter. "I'm sorry I forgot, I'm sorry..."
He wanted to shrug her away, wanted her out of his way, but he stood there, her soft body curled around him, her pink young lips kissing his back, rubbing her nose across his jacket.
"You'd better go, I've got to get ready. We're trying out some new plinths — the cats could get tetchy!"
She slung her coat around her shoulders and picked up her headdress. "Okay, I'll be by later, can we have dinner?"
"Sure."
She stared at his back, waiting for him to turn, but he didn't. She sighed, opening the trailer door. "Be about nine, Luis?"
"Yes, nine's fine... see you then."
"I'll talk to her with you if you like!"
"No... no that won't be necessary, I'll work it out."
He sighed with relief when the door closed, and then bowed his head. "You stupid bastard, what the hell are you getting into!" he asked himself.
Another glass and the bottle was half empty. He stared at the wall of photographs. Tina was such a child, he was old enough to be her father, he laughed to himself, her grandfather even. He lit a cigar knowing he should be going across to the arena, but he couldn't move. The more he drank the more each photograph recalled his past. He glanced at Ruda riding Mamon, as if he were drawn back to that single memory more than the others. He leaned over and took it down, ran his fingers across her face, and then smashed the frame against the side of the table. "I've got to get to the arena," he kept on telling himself — but he couldn't move. It was as if the brandy were reopening the scar down the length of his body, opening it stitch by stitch until he felt on fire.
It had been late afternoon, in the winter quarters in Florida. He had watched her working the act, saw she was making extraordinary strides, knew he should have been in the ring with her. He saw her lifting the hoop, training Mamon to leap through it; the fire was lit on top, and Mamon jumped like the Angel she called him. Next, he watched her edging the padding for the flames further and further around the hoop, each time Mamon leapt through. Now the entire hoop was alight. Mamon hesitated, and then he jumped straight through it. She hugged Mamon as if he were a puppy dog!.. and the hands standing around watching applauded and cheered. Mamon began a slow lope around the arena, and then on a command he moved closer and closer.
Luis had watched, genuine interest mingled with envy, as she held on to the massive creature's mane of thick black fur, and then sat astride him. One of the boys had taken the photograph, not Luis, but it was as clear a picture in his mind as it was in the frame. The way she had tossed back her head and laughed that deep, wonderful, full-bellied laugh; he had never been able to make her laugh like that, had never witnessed her so free, so exhilarated, and he was consumed with jealousy.
Mamon was Ruda's baby, Ruda's aggressive, terrifying love. She worshiped him, and Luis knew she was too close to him, that no trainer should get so involved with an animal. The danger was that the animal could become too possessive of her, that when she was working with the other cats, and she fondled one, or gave it a treat, the cat could become jealous and in his jealous rage he would attack.
Ruda and Grimaldi had argued about her training of Mamon. He had insisted she must refrain from treating him as if he were a pet. "He is a killer, a perfect killing machine — if you forget what he is, then you put yourself in danger."
She had smirked at him, insinuated that he was jealous because he was too afraid even to get into the ring with Mamon — he was jealous of the way she was handling him. He had turned to her angrily. "Wrong, Ruda. What I'm trying to do is to make you see. You treat Mamon differently — all the other cats you're working as I taught you, but with that bastard you constantly give in to him. What you refuse to see is that he is dominating you, and lemme tell you, the first, the very first moment he sees he has you, he will attack. You must not treat Mamon differently, because he will think he is stronger than you."
Ruda had stood in sullen silence before she had answered. "Mamon is different, I understand him, and he understands me."
Luis had shaken his head in disbelief. "You are being naive, childish and foolish. He is not human, he is an animal!"
She had walked out, giving him one of her snarls, twisting her face. "Maybe I am one, too..."
But Ruda knew Luis was right, and she made an effort not to be so familiar, not to spend so much time with Mamon. Still, he was the one she could train faster than the others.
They had introduced two more lionesses, and allowed Mamon to mate with both of them. Ruda watched him being released into the compound, she looked at his powerful body as he loped around the two lionesses, courted and showed himself off. The three disappeared into the huts, and she had sat outside all night, waiting. Luis had told her she should stay away from him the following morning, he would be all male, all animal — wild.
Mamon had sauntered out as the sun rose, his head low, his massive paws holding a steady rhythm. His eyes caught the sun like amber lamps and Ruda stood up, her hands on the netting. Mamon got up on his hind legs and roared, and she could feel his hot breath on her face. "You perform well, my love? You screw the arses off them, did you? Who's a beautiful boy!"
He brushed past her against the netting, and then loped off to drink at the trough, turning with water dripping from his mouth to see if she was still watching.
Both lionesses were pregnant, and Ruda watched over them until the births. Two female Bengals were pregnant, and one Siberian; she had her time cut out watching over the cubs, and began to see less and less of Mamon. He became distant, defiant, more and more uncontrollable. Luis blamed Ruda, but she refused any assistance. Working in the ring with sixteen tigers, two lionesses and two lions, she was still confident she could control her Angel.
Luis had been right behind her the first time she had taken over the main part of the act. Twice Luis broke up squabbles between two Bengals, but Ruda seemed to have the act under good control, until Sasha misjudged a leap and fell. She reared up as Jonah, a massive Bengal, tried to attack her, and Sasha fought back and somehow caught her right paw in the top of the meshing. Her claw held firm, and she hung, paws off the ground — open and vulnerable — as the tigers, only too ready for a scrap, moved in for a hoped-for kill.