‘The Great Volta,’ he bowed. He hadn’t used his stage name in twenty years.
‘Really? You in the carnival?’
‘No. I’m a retired magician.’
She was about to ask something else when a towheaded boy, clearly kin, ran up and grabbed her arm. ‘Come on, Gena. Mom’s getting pissed.’
The man behind the plank tapped her other arm. ‘Here, kid; you won it.’ He handed her a goldfish bowl, but this one held water and a tiny goldfish.
Gena hissed, ‘Okay, Tommy, just a sec.’ She accepted the goldfish and handed it to Volta.
Surprised, he took it, but immediately tried to hand it back. ‘No, you won it; it’s your prize.’
She put her hands behind her back. ‘But you taught me how. Besides, I don’t want it. I wasn’t doing it to win a goldfish. I just wanted to do it, get one of those balls in.’
‘Oh,’ Volta said. ‘I thought you wanted the goldfish.’
‘No. My mom says it’s a pretty big responsibility to take care of another living thing. Gotta go.’
And she and her brother were gone on flashing sneakers.
The bowl cupped in his hands, Volta looked down at the goldfish. With a sudden and startling clarity, Volta felt Daniel open a door. ‘Shit,’ Volta said quickly. Then, with a freedom more befitting his age, he added a long anguished ‘Fuuuuuuuck!’
Daniel stopped at Jackrabbit Pizza in a mini-mall at the edge of Reno. The Cutlass wouldn’t lock, so he took the Diamond, money, and day pack in with him. When he opened the pizzeria door, he was startled to see a large rabbit behind the counter. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the rabbit slowly turned into a tall, gangly, teenage boy with a small, pinched face and wispy mustache. The kid was wearing a pair of stiff, slender rabbit ears and a light-grey smock made of the same sheeny velveteen fabric, a material closer to carpet than cloth. The kitchen workers also wore rabbit ears and furry smocks. Clearly a uniform, Daniel decided, unless all three shared the same sartorial eccentricity.
The pizzeria had two long aisles of tables and benches, padded booths along the near wall, and a mini-arcade of computer games, pinball machines, and a mechanical pony ride along the back wall. It was noisy and warm, a fragrant braid of yeast, garlic, tomato, and sizzling pepperoni wafting from the kitchen. Daniel stepped up to the counter.
‘Good evening.’ The tall rabbit-boy reached for a pad. ‘Ready to order?’
Daniel decided you could say anything you wanted to someone wearing jackrabbit ears, so he said, ‘The mind is a pizza with the works.’
The kid’s button nose twitched just like a rabbit’s scenting danger on the air. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the kid said, ‘I missed that.’ He glanced timidly at Daniel and immediately shifted his gaze back to his order pad.
‘Pardon me,’ Daniel said, ‘I get mumbly alone on the road. I said “I wouldn’t mind a pizza with the works.”’
‘Small? Medium?’
‘Medium.’
‘Anything to drink?’
Daniel looked at the menu board. ‘A pitcher of beer.’
The rabbit-eared kid said, ‘Comes to nine ninety-five.’
Daniel set the bowling bag down and dug in his front pocket. He handed a hundred-dollar bill to the kid. ‘Keep the change.’
The kid looked at the bill and then back at Daniel. ‘That’s a hundred-dollar bill, sir. It’s only nine ninety-five.’
‘That’s right,’ Daniel said. ‘So, if my math doesn’t fail me, that leaves you a tip of ninety dollars and five cents. Correct?’
The kid shook his head, his rabbit ears swaying slightly. ‘Gee, that’s more than I make in a week.’
‘Please,’ Daniel said with a dismissive flick of his hand, ‘I can afford it. Furthermore, I admire your courage.’
‘My courage?’
‘In wearing that outlandish rabbit uniform.’
The kid winced. ‘Don’t remind me. I forget till someone reminds me. Owner makes us wear them. He catches you without your ears on, you’re fired on the spot.’
Daniel didn’t respond. He was looking at the kid’s ears.
Nervously, the kid went on, ‘Sometimes it’s a real bummer. Girls from school come in once in a while, know what I mean. Pretty hard to look cool when you look stupid. This one girl, Cindy, thought I looked so silly she still cracks up giggling every time she sees me in the halls.’
‘Marry that woman,’ Daniel said, ‘she’ll keep you honest.’
‘Right,’ the kid said with a plaintive sarcasm, ‘she’s really going to marry Mr Rabbit Ears. It’s not like I’m Paul Newman to start with.’
Daniel advised him, ‘Tell her you are a master of the Nine Tantric Circles of Intimate Permissions.’
The kid lowered his eyes. ‘I don’t even know what a tantric is. Even if she’d be interested in knowing it, and I doubt she would. That would impress her, huh? “What nine tantric circles, Carl?” “Uh, well, Cindy, gee, duh.” Gotta tell her something, right?’
‘Absolutely,’ Daniel agreed.
‘So, you got any suggestions? You know about these tantric circles?’
Daniel winked. ‘That knowledge is the source of my wealth. Unfortunately, I’m bound not to reveal them, though in fact they’re open secrets. I can point you to the right path, though. Use your imagination. That’s what I did. And if Cindy uses her imagination, perhaps you’ll enter the First Circle together.’
Carl looked at Daniel, clearly puzzled. Daniel was vaguely disappointed when he said, ‘Well, thanks for the tips, sir. Let me get your pitcher, and I’ll call when the pizza’s ready. You’ll be number ninety-three.’
Daniel’s disappointment turned to an anger spawned more by the kid’s sloth than the implicit slight. ‘What I can’t decide,’ Daniel said, ‘is whether you should get down on your knees and thank your boss for forcing you into foolishness, or whether you should twist those rabbit ears together and tell him to stick ’em up his ass. If you’re going to be foolish, at least have the sense to enjoy it. If you find it demeaning, quit. The bosses of the world can’t do anything to you that you can stop them from doing. We all deserve ourselves.’
Carl was filling the pitcher from the counter tap. ‘You sound like a teacher,’ he said without enthusiasm.
Daniel considered this a moment. ‘I’m not sure I know enough to be a teacher, or could teach what I do know. I’m more of a romantic religious idiot trying to get his bearings in the Diamond-light of existence.’
‘Oh yeah?’ the kid said, sliding the pitcher across the countertop. ‘You with some church, some Eastern religion?’
Daniel sensed the kid’s eagerness to be rid of him, but rabbit-boy clearly hadn’t learned that religious inquiries encouraged conversation. Daniel decided to spare him. ‘No, none of that mystic Eastern woo-woo for me. I’m a Judo-Christian. I flipped.’ He gave the kid the wildest grin he could summon.
It must have been good. Carl gulped and turned for the kitchen, mumbling over his shoulder, ‘Better get your order in… be ten, fifteen minutes.’
Daniel sat at a table facing the mini-arcade. The machines flashed invitingly, but nobody wanted to play. Not the rabbit-eared kid at the counter, not a single patron. Daniel felt himself sliding toward depression and fought for equilibrium. He moved his left foot over and softly pressed it against the bowling bag. The feel of the curve against his foot gave him an immediate impulse to leap on the table, shout for attention, and vanish. That would wake them up. Instead, he concentrated on his beer, feeling the cool glass against his lips, tasting each drop.
Daniel was halfway through his pizza when a small boy tore by him, aiming straight for the pony ride – a fiberglass golden palomino cast in full gallop, ears laid back. The boy still had some baby fat in his cheeks and two front teeth were missing. He had brown eyes as lustrous as melting chocolate chips. Daniel sensed a delicacy about the boy, though there was nothing delicate about the way he swung into the saddle, twisted the plastic reins around his wrist, and shoved in his quarter; nothing delicate at all as he spurred the pony to full speed or whipped out his trusty six-gun – extended index-finger barrel, cocked-thumb hammer – and began blazing away, ‘Blatchooee! Blatchooee!’ The loud, wet report cut through the noise from other patrons.