“I suppose,” I said.
“I think I love him, Tony.”
I nodded and said nothing.
“I’m awfully sorry,” Sue Ellen said.
“If it makes you happy, honey...”
I couldn’t think of any way to finish it.
I started work in earnest. Maybe I should have fired Angeli on the spot, but you can’t fire love, and that’s what I was battling. So instead I worked harder, and I tried not to see Sue Ellen around all the time. I began to figure crowd reactions, and I realized the people would not hold still for my other aerial artists once they got wind of the Fallen Angel. So we worked Farnings and Edward (whose “Great” title we dropped) into one act, and we worked Sue Ellen into Angeli’s act. Sue Ellen dressed up the act a lot, and it gave Angeli someone to kid around with up there, making his stunts before the fall more interesting.
Sue Ellen never did any of the fancy stuff. She just caught Angeli, or was caught by him — all stuff leading up to Angeli’s spectacular fall. The beautiful part was that Sue Ellen never had to worry about timing. I mean, if she missed Angeli — so he fell. I thought about his fall a lot, and I tried to figure it out, but I never could, and after a while I stopped figuring. I never stopped thinking about Sue Ellen, though, and it hurt me awful to watch her looking at him with those eyes full of worship, but if she was happy, that was all that counted.
And then I began to get bigger ideas. Why fool around with a small-time circus? I wondered. Why not expand? Why not incorporate?
I got off a few letters to the biggest circuses I knew of. I told them what I had, and I told them the boy was under exclusive contract to me, and I told them he would triple attendance, and I told them I was interested in joining circuses, becoming partners sort of, with the understanding that the Fallen Angel would come along with me. I guess the word had got around by then because all the big-shot letters were very cordial and very nice, and they all asked me when they could get a look at Angeli because they would certainly be interested in incorporating my fine little outfit on a partnership basis if my boy were all I claimed him to be, sincerely yours.
I got off a few more letters, asking all the big shots to attend our regular Friday night performance so that they could judge the crowd reaction and see the Fallen Angel under actual working conditions. All my letters were answered with telegrams, and we set the ball rolling.
That Friday afternoon was pure bedlam.
There’s always a million things happening around a circus, anyway, but this Friday everything seemed to pile up at once. Like Fifi, our bareback rider, storming into the tent in her white ruffles.
“My horse!” she yelled, her brown eyes flashing. “My horse!”
“Is something wrong with him?” I asked.
“No, nothing’s wrong with him,” she screamed. “But something’s wrong with José Esperanza, and I’m going to wring his scrawny little neck unless...”
“Now easy, honey,” I said, “let us take it easy.”
“I told him a bucket of rye. I did not say a bucket of oats. Juju does not eat oats; he eats rye. And my safety and health and life depend on Juju, and I will not have him eating some foul-smelling oats when I distinctly told José...”
“José!” I bellowed. “José Esperanza, come here.”
José was a small Puerto Rican we’d picked up only recently. A nice young kid with big brown cow’s eyes and a small timid smile. He poked his head into the wagon and smiled, and then he saw Fifi and the smile dropped from his face.
“Is it true you gave Juju oats, José, when you were told to give him rye?” I asked.
“Si, señor,” José said, “that ees true.”
“But why, José? Why on earth...”
José lowered his head. “The horse, señor. I like heem. He ees nice horse. He ees always good to me.”
“What’s that got to do with the bucket of rye?”
“Señor,” José said pleadingly, “I did not want to get the horse drunk.”
“Drunk? Drunk?”
“Si, señor, a bucket of rye. Even for a horse, thees ees a lot of wheesky. I did not theenk...”
“Oh,” Fifi wailed, “of all the stupid — I’ll feed the horse myself. I’ll feed him myself. Never mind!”
She stormed out of the wagon, and José smiled sheepishly and said, “I did wrong, señor?”
“No,” I said. “You did all right, José. Now run along.”
I shook my head, and José left, and when I turned around Sam Angeli was standing there. I hadn’t heard him come in, and I wondered how long he’d been there, so I said, “A good kid, José.”
“If you like good kids,” Angeli answered.
“He’ll go to heaven, that one,” I said. “Mark my words.”
Angeli smiled. “We’ll see,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you, Tony.”
“Oh? What about?”
“About all these people coming tonight. The big shots, the ones coming to see me.”
“What about them?”
“Nothing, Tony. But suppose — just suppose, mind you — suppose I don’t fall?”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Just that. Suppose I don’t fall tonight?”
“That’s silly,” I said. “You have to fall.”
“Do I? Where does it say I have to fall?”
“Your contract. You signed a...”
“The contract doesn’t say anything about my having to fall, Tony. Not a word.”
“Well... say, what is this? A holdup?”
“No. Nothing of the sort. I just got to thinking. If this works out tonight, Tony, you’re going to be a big man. But what do I get out of it?”
“Do you want a salary boost? Is that it? O.K. You’ve got a salary boost. How’s that?”
“I don’t want a salary boost.”
“What, then?”
“Something of very little importance. Something of no value whatever.”
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
“Suppose we make a deal, Tony?” Angeli said. “Suppose we shake on it? If I fall tonight, I get this little something that I want.”
“What’s this little something that you want?”
“Is it a deal?”
“I have to know first.”
“Well, let’s forget it then,” Angeli said.
“Now wait a minute, wait a minute. Is this ‘thing’ Sue Ellen?”
Angeli smiled. “I don’t have to make a deal to get her, Tony.”
“Well, is it money?”
“No. This thing has no material value.”
“Then why do you want it?”
“I collect them.”
“And I’ve got one?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what...?”
“Is it a deal, or isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I mean, this is a peculiar way to...”
“Believe me, this thing is of no material value to you. You won’t even know it’s gone. But if I go through with my fall tonight, all I ask is that you give it to me. A handshake will be binding as far as I’m concerned.”
I shrugged. “All right, all right, a deal. Provided you haven’t misrepresented this thing, whatever it is. Provided it’s not of material value to me.”
“I haven’t misrepresented it. Shall we shake, Tony?”
He extended his hand, and I took it, and his eyes glowed, but his skin was very cold to the touch. I pulled my hand away.
“Now,” I said, “what’s this thing you want from me?”
Angeli smiled. “Your soul,” he said.
I was suddenly alone in the wagon. I looked around, but Angeli was gone, and then the door opened and Sue Ellen stepped in, and she looked very grave and very upset.
“I heard,” she said. “Forgive me. I heard. I was listening outside. Tony, what are you going to do? What are we going to do?”