Jodi—whom everyone now called Emerald, who answered only to Emerald (if even then)—spent a lot of time behind her mirror, being braided and pampered by the two gypsy women in preparation for tomorrow, when this small traveling show would put on their first performance. The shift in her attitude, and in Dean's for that matter, disquieted Jamie. Apparently at Gonko's own orders Jodi/Emerald wore a veil now, and would show her face to no one.
Gonko and Rufshod had vanished earlier in the day to "check on things" below, leaving Doopy in charge, a duty he took seriously for the twenty minutes he remembered it. At last the long day took its toll on Jamie and weariness overcame the face paint's buzz. He watched Dean/Deeby trying to teach Goshy how to do a push-up, then slept in the clowns' tent for the rest of the day to troubled and confused dreams.
***
6. BELOW
The lift lurched and rocked as it headed down. "So, boss, it's show day down there," said Rufshod.
"And?" said Gonko.
"And so, are we, um, gonna mess with George's show or what?"
"Next time. I gotta scout out how they do so, we know what acts we're gonna steal for our own show."
"Kind of dangerous, boss. Ain't it? Like, the big bosses will be way pissed if they find out."
"If we get Kurt back in charge of this whole shebang, it will be the most ultimate suck up job in Pilo history, Ruf. Life will be all soda pops and shoulder slaps and round the clock chuckles for us, you wait and see. And you'll have Uncle Gonko to thank. Just wish I knew what to do about the new guy."
"Jamie?"
"Deeby." Thinking of him, Gonko had to fight not to vomit across his shoes. "‘Knock knock?' I'll knock knock his fucking teeth out."
"Sure! Why don't ya?"
"Jamie and this whole clowns-are-good-Samaritans gag. Dunno how long I can keep this up, this whole don't-lash-out-at-the-deserving thing. Bad enough I gotta play nice to George. But the kissing booth might just make up for all. You get a look under that veil? The MM's lipstick is golden pancakes with butter on top. We gotta steal some more while we're down there. I even felt a little pluck or two at my own heartstrings, Ruf, when Emerald got dolled up and made kissy faces at me. She's gonna be a hit, our star draw. You'll see."
"So where's JJ? Me and Jamie went out breaking stuff—was great and all, but it's not the same. JJ woulda helped me burn that house down or at least set that dog on fire, but Jamie didn't want no one to get hurt! Not even a dog. Weird."
"I don't get it neither," said Gonko. "Maybe the real JJ will just pop out of him like old times, but we know there's nothing wrong with the face paint."
"You sure? Deeby ain't much of a clown."
"He wasn't any part clown to start with. That's why we audition 'em, see if there's something for the face paint to work with. No sweat, we'll keep him around for now, but when we come back down he joins the lumberjacks for all I care."
The lift bumped to a halt and filled with the scent of buttered popcorn, hot dogs and, most of all, swarms of fresh tricks now shuffling dazedly across the grass and dirt. The circus music jingled, jangled, and moaned for the first time since Kurt had lost his temper nearly a year ago. Gonko grabbed Rufshod. "Now remember. If we see George, reverse psychology time. We hate it upstairs. Make your hat droop and get some cry streaks down that face. Bitch to any carny rats you see about how it's not fair we can't put on a show here. Tell 'em Gonko's losing his shit he's so sad about it."
They did see George, and only a minute or so after threading through the crowds of sleepwalking tricks. Already they left behind them a thin sprinkling of soul dust and they'd barely seen any acts yet. George was on his way from Mugabo's tent, where his ride-on goon had been left as a warning that the magician should do his list of humble magic stunts and nothing more. As a result, George was short on security detail and shriller than usual. "Gonko!" he screamed, assuming the position with his nose pushed to the clown boss's navel, eyes glaring up.
Gonko twitched but held in the rage for later. "We got a few good leads on the fortuneteller, boss, and we found JJ. But can't we just do us a quick little act down here today? Just some juggling and maybe the whole pants on fire gag? We clowns are so sick of being up there, away from the action. Which is the total truth."
George's laugh clattered angrily until he was gasping for breath. "Hate it up there, don't you? Well guess where you're going when the show's done? Right back up, until you bring me Shalice and everyone else on that list. And I'm working on a new list for you too. We had ten more staff abscond. You're going to find 'em."
Gonko sighed heavily. "But George, please George . . ."
"Shut it! Now listen up. Keep an eye on the dust collectors. There's thieving all over. They haven't been paid a good wage in a long time, so I want you checking pockets and give any thieves a good kicking. Report names to the lumberjacks, and I'll deal with 'em after the show. Got it?"
"I obey with great reluctance, even heartbreak, feeling the sad twang of yearning within for what may never be."
"Perfect! And stop by the freak show, Gonko, to check out my surprise new exhibit. You'll love it. Help yourself to a poke or two while you're at it. That's an order. All must poke the new exhibit." George stomped away. They heard him shrilly berating someone in Sideshow Alley.
Curiosity aroused, Gonko headed to the freak show, stopping first at the acrobat tent where their act had just begun. Ohhs and ahhs from the crowd, the works. Poking his head in, there was a healthy sprinkling of soul dust already poured across the floor—the circus was hungry. Onstage, under bright spotlights, three lithe bodies sailed between swinging rings, flipped, spun, soared a dazzling dance with gravity. Their first show, and he hated to admit they were at least as good as old Sven and his crew had been.
He checked in on a surly Mugabo who was now on his second magic show for the day, with red lash marks cut through the back of his shirt. Same old bunny trick, same old doves flying from handkerchiefs, with nervous looks over his shoulder at George's goon, waiting backstage. The crowd laughed and made their sleepwalking trick sounds of delight as the powder spilled out of them, to be picked up by dwarfs scuttling down around their feet. Gonko checked the nearest one's pockets, found a little dust had indeed been pilfered, and applied a moderately gentle kicking by his standards. He didn't want these carny rats rich and satisfied either, for that matter—it would make them harder to bribe if needed. The other gatherers got the message, sullenly emptying their pockets under his gaze.
The revamped freak show was curated by Dr. Gloom, whom many suspected possessed no physical body beneath the black leather overcoat, gloves, hood, pants, and boots, wrapped about an imposing nine-foot frame. Dr. Gloom was ever hunched over to a mere seven feet. The hood covered all but a thin slit for eyes, though they could not be seen. "Welcome," a rustling hiss occasionally seeped out. "Enjoy . . . the exhibitsss." Sooner or later Gonko would need to lay a smackdown on Dr. Gloom to confirm which of them wore the pants, as with all these new acts and performers, but now was not the time.
The circus was quieter here in the freak show dimness, the air colder. Gonko's lip curled in distaste at Wallace the Walrus, the sluggishly fat human-walrus hybrid staring stupidly at the tricks who stared stupidly at him. Now and then someone tossed a fish in for him, which he'd eat, then spray against the wall of his glass cage in a stream of projectile vomit.
"Stop that, stop that!" yelled the mermaid across from him in her harpy voice. "I won't have fish treated this way. I'm ready to sing now, you haven't heard real singing yet. Who wants to hear me sing? Ha! Who doesn't, honey." Gonko turned about to find the dirty bastard who'd shoved a screwdriver deep in each of his ears, to discover it was in fact the mermaid belting out some forgotten pop hit about how hard it was to have everything you wanted except enough attention from your man.