AN EVENING AT THE BIG TOP
My Sweet Girl,
We're in Coney Island like my telegram said. I was so happy to get one back from you today even though it simply said you loved me, it means everything to me. I miss you so much, Bess. I have never felt loneliness like this in my entire life. I just need you to hold me. And kiss me and run your fingers through my hair and tell me everything is okay. Not that it's going bad here, I just need you. I need you so much. Is that sappy of me?
It turns out that we were a little misled about the Coney Island run. It appears as though Luna Park, the park we're performing in, is in bankruptcy and we're part of some grand reopening. Bankruptcy, Bessie. If people actually come to this thing, I will be shocked.
We met a new guy, someone who just joined the troupe between Philadelphia and here. His name is Claude and he climbs a ladder. That might not sound very exciting and my brothers and I felt the same way. And then we watched him rehearse and we couldn't believe our eyes. I've never seen a person do so many tricks with a ladder in my life. He carries it around and he climbs it up and down and he flips it and twirls it and spins it and jumps around on it. It's really something to see, Bess, I wish you could witness it. And he seems to be a very popular act. We're not sure if we should feel threatened by his popularity or not. We're hoping that our act is different enough that people might want to spend just as much money on us. Which reminds me, Tay put together the new trick in our act and...well, I really wish you were here, sweet girl. I need you. I need to talk to you. Something happened the first night we debuted it that made me extremely uncomfortable, but Tay seems to be completely fine with it and wants to do it again. But I don't know, Bessie. I need you to tell me what to do. I need your voice and your words of wisdom and encouragement.
Anyway, I have to wrap this up now if I'm going to be rested for tomorrow. We're having to work extra hard this week to try to bring in as much money as we can. On the plus side, it's only another short week or two before I can come home to you. And I can't wait. The time can't move fast enough.
I love you, my sweet Bessie. Forever and always, I belong to you.
Yours,
Zac
The ferry trip to Coney Island was nearly as rough on Zac's stomach as the car ride was, if not more. While this wasn't the brothers' first experience with a ferry, it had been awhile since the last encounter and the ride affected the brothers in different ways. While Zac fought to keep his stomach intact, Isaac worried nervously about the precious cargo their travel trailer held upon the ferry, and Taylor spent the majority of the ride perched dangerously atop the ferry's railings, snapping photograph after photograph of anything he could possibly capture on camera.
Docking the ferry was nearly a dream come true and Zac resisted the urge to kiss the solid ground. Even if he wanted to, there was no time, because Isaac was immediately loading them up to drive them to Luna Park.
There was an unspoken, childlike excitement brewing between the three brothers on that warm, overcast morning at the notion of going to Luna Park. Back in the late twenties, when they were at the very height of their fame in vaudeville, they had taken many trips to Luna Park to escape their crowded residency in the city. They treated various dates to the elaborate amusements, necking in the lagoon boats or getting lucky in the dark, loud indoor rides and attractions. Then there were the times when it was just the three of them, taking in the circus acts or eating their weight in hot dogs or riding roller coasters until they were sick. Luna Park was the most over-the-top, lavish, and ornate amusement park they'd ever been to and they could never wait to go back every time they found themselves in New York.
Ever since vaudeville died and they ended up on the carnival circuit, however, the concept of playing at Luna Park was a dream. They'd always been as patrons, but never as entertainment, and they always watched the entertainment in awe, marveling at how detailed and ornate the acts were and amazed by all the money they seemed to haul in every night. Luna Park employed their own acts and entertainment, subject-specific to the particular areas of the park they played in and they never seemed to take in local, carnival-style traveling acts--until now, it seemed. It seemed that being in a bankruptcy apparently made the owner of the park desperate. And upon speaking once more with Barney Harper upon their arrival to the park, there could possibly be room enough for the park owner to want to employ an act or two full time. Isaac and Taylor's eyes lit up at this concept like children at Christmas. Zac, for at least the fifth time that day, wanted to vomit.
The luster and the wonders of Luna Park seemed a distant memory now as they stood in the overcast daylight, observing the silent and seemingly deserted attraction. The brothers had grounded their trailer on a grass-covered back lot and opted to take in the park from a business point of view as opposed to the patron point of view they were used to. They knew the current depression that the country currently found itself in was rough on everyone, from sea to shining sea. But when a place as frequented as Luna Park was affected the way it was, the nature of the country's economical situation became a serious eye-opener and, for the first time, the brothers found themselves genuinely concerned with whether this trek up north was worth the trip or not.
They didn't even have to utter a word out loud as they glanced at each other, for they all knew what was going on in the others' heads--they were mentally calculating their current profits and how much it had taken them to travel from home. It was the first time since they'd left Tulsa that they were actually concerned as to whether they'd actually make it home or not. But Zac would. Come hell or high water, by God, no matter how he had to do it, Zac was going home to Bessie. And he wouldn't let any bankrupt amusement park, anywhere in the world, stop him.
Luna Park was thirty-eight acres of amusement as far as the eye could see. The park offered it all--heart-stopping rides, amazing animals, thrilling shows, and scenery that could take you from one continent of the world to another in a matter of just a few footsteps. High coasters and Ferris wheels showed you the crowded beach and sparkling ocean just beyond the park and, at night, the park was illuminated with thousands of glittering lights, turning it into an evening of beauty and magic. It was at night where all the money was expected to be made, which gave them the day to rehearse and prepare.
"We need to finish the throwing act," Taylor murmured, breaking their silence as the brothers looked around.
Taylor was still barely speaking to Zac after their argument, and Zac was returning the favor. He knew they'd have to speak to each other in full sentences eventually, but for now, Zac chose to let Taylor brood in peace.
Barney Harper's ten-in-one was to be erected in a section of the park that was still under renovation. Choosing to place it at what would be the entrance of the revamped section of the park, Zac's pessimistic nature could only come to one conclusion--Barney Harper hadn't been hired for talent, he'd been hired as a mere blocker so that patrons wouldn't be turned off at unsightly portions of the scenery. The more Zac observed about their situation, the less confident he felt about this leg of the tour. It was more than tempting to tell old Harper that he could go screw himself while The Incredible Hansons took their act into the big city alone. But Isaac, ever the opportunist that he was, implored Zac to see it through and not make any rash decisions. Because he remembered Taylor's words and chose to think of the act as a whole, Zac backed down. But his patience was wearing extremely thin.
Wordlessly, the brothers followed Taylor back to their temporary living quarters to work on the remains of the female dummy they were putting together to pin to the multi-colored wooden wheel. She would be as realistic as they could make her, with the head of a mannequin that Taylor scored off of a department store that had gone out of business, repainted by Zac, a lovely ensemble purchased from a secondhand store in Philadelphia, and a body made of potato sacks and cornmeal. "Why not just buy the entire mannequin?" Zac had asked. "It would make it much more realistic."
"Because if you screw up and you hit her, she's done for," Taylor had replied. "At least we can refill and re-stitch the sacks if you hit her."
Zac determined that Taylor was a genius and he never asked anymore about it.
On the way back to the trailer, however, the brothers were stopped by a curious sight that had been brought to their attention by way of the cheers and the laughter that had caught their ears. Several trailers away from theirs, a small crowd of their peers were gathered around, with Barney Harper at the forefront, and they seemed to be having a big time over something that was taking place in the center. Momentarily abandoning their plans for creating their new leading lady, whom they'd affectionately dubbed Myrtle, the brothers couldn't help being drawn in by a curiosity that had seemingly done their walking for them, as they found themselves in the back of the crowd before they knew it.
In the center was a small man and a ladder. The man barely stood over five feet and looked like he must have weighed next to nothing. He was of some type of European descent, possibly Russian or Italian, with dark hair and big, brown eyes. He was dressed simply in trousers, suspenders, and a white tee shirt, and his smile and his eyes read nothing but joy and gratitude.
His companion was a straight ladder that reached nearly seven feet and had flat feet on one end, no doubt to accommodate his act. Before their eyes, with a single ladder and nothing to prop it against, the man practically flew all over it, balancing it as he climbed up it and over it, slid down it, twirled and bounced it around, flipped it, threw it, and did handstands off of the flat ends.
The Hanson brothers couldn't help but be mesmerized, much like the rest of the crowd, and Barney Harper laughed and applauded like he was the greatest thing that ever walked--or climbed--the planet. Once he was brought out of his momentary trance, Zac scowled in Harper's direction. Who the hell was this little jumping bean, anyway? The Incredible Hansons were the stars of this troupe--everybody knew it. So why the hell was old Harper doting on this guy as if he'd just replaced the Hansons' act? Zac immediately hated the little man.
Harper must have felt Zac's eyes on him, because he turned around and his eyes lit up when he spied him and his brothers. "Zac! Isaac, Taylor, come," his graying whiskers smiled. "Come meet Claude, the newest addition to our little troupe!"
Zac knew it.
Claude was polite, shaking hands as introductions were announced. Claude was familiar with them and complimented their act, which should have humbled Zac and made him feel better, except that it didn't. His name was Claudio Passerini and went by Climbin' Claude in his act. He was an immigrant who had brought his family to Brooklyn ten years ago to escape the slums of Italy and start a better life. After a series of odd jobs, he had a near mishap on a ladder in the meat packing district of Manhattan and avoided it by quick-thinking and balancing and decided right then and there that he had a gift. Since then, he'd joined the carnival and apparently had much success with his act and contacted Barney when he found out about the Luna Park gig. The more he spoke in his thick, Italian accent, the more Zac tried to hate the man, but his hatred was dwindling fast. Instead, it was replacing itself with respect and he had to hand it to the guy--he was talented and if Zac was him, he would have been all over Barney Harper for the Luna Park gig, too. He couldn't hate him for that. He just hoped he stayed out of the way of their act.
Surprisingly, Isaac wasn't willing to leave Claude's side anytime soon. Taylor expressed need for finishing the dummy, at which Isaac waved him off and told him it wouldn't take three people to complete it. And so Zac and Taylor found themselves alone, and in silence, walking back to their trailer.
Upon entering their mobile abode, Taylor spoke not a word, but when straight to retrieving the parts to the dummy. The silence was awkward, not something that should be felt between brothers and family, but it was awkward, nonetheless. The truth was, Zac wasn't sure how to feel about Taylor at the moment. There were moments when Taylor was his normal, optimistic, sunshiny self, and then there were moments where he seemed miles away from everything and hated life. Zac didn't know how to read him. He didn't know if he was dealing with personal issues, if he was resenting Zac for his relationship with Bessie, or even if he was on the way to disowning Zac altogether. Zac hated the possibility of growing apart from Taylor. Taylor had been his best friend for his entire life and they'd grown especially close since their parents had passed away. As Zac watched Taylor toil away, wrapping, tying, and stitching, Zac let out a breath, realizing that he didn't want to lose his brother. He loved him and he needed him. And he needed to be the bigger person and end this little feud, once and for all.
"Tay. Look, um. So, listen--"
Loudly, Taylor dropped the knife and the sack he was working on that would be a leg and let out a breath, running his hand through his fine hair. "There isn't enough here," he muttered. "We need more twine. And more needles. And more everything, really, I'm sure we're going to need spares of it all."
"Tay," he said softly. "Don't you think this is growing to be a little much? We only have a couple weeks left--"
"So, what, you want to cheat paying spectators out of a show just because we have a little bit of time? Spectators who will see us only one time and may or may not recommend others? Have you really just given up on us completely? Finally?"
Zac narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to study his brother. "I don't know where you've all of a sudden gotten the idea that I want to give up on the act," he said as gently as he could. "I miss my girl. Am I not allowed to miss her? Does that automatically mean I've given up on us?"
"Well, it's apparent that you don't want to be here. Why else wouldn't you want to be here?"
"Things are different now," Zac said quietly. "Things have changed, life goes on. I think--I think I found the person I want to be back home, Tay. I think--"
"You want to run a feed store for the rest of your life?" Taylor spat with resentment. "That's what you want? That old man can barely feed himself with the way the country's economy is right now while we sit up here and roll in the dough every night. Don't you want to survive, Zac? Don't you want a real life and a real future?"
"I just want to be Bessie's husband," Zac whispered.
"Right," Taylor scoffed. "You're going to run home and she's going to run off to school. You'll write letters to each other, you'll see each other for a couple months out of the year, and you still think you're going to marry her. The reality is, Zac, you're going to grow apart once she leaves. It's going to happen. Don't forget, I lived it with Millie. For two years. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. It just makes it forget."
"Never," Zac replied confidently. "No, the difference is, you and Millie never loved each other. But Bessie lives in my soul. She is the air that I breathe and the reason that I am allowed to exist on this earth. My entire being is Bessie. And don't you dare sit there and condemn me for being in love when you proposed to a woman who's sitting back in Tulsa, waiting for you right now. Don't be a hypocrite, Tay. Don't sit there and pretend like you don't understand love and what it feels like to miss her. I know this trip is killing you, being away from Aishe, just like being away from Bessie is killing me. I know it is. And instead of dealing with it, you're taking it out on me. Well, you know what, Tay? My heart hurts every night and every morning, but at least I'm making the effort to communicate with her and ease the pain, if only just a little. What the hell are you doing?"
Taylor looked up from the hole in the table that his blue eyes had been boring and glared at his younger brother, his jaw set tight, his nostrils flaring with rage. Instead of the outburst that Zac was expecting, Taylor stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking around him for his wool cap. "I'm going into town for supplies," he murmured.
"You want company?"
"I don't care."
At that, Zac followed his brother out of the trailer. He was impossible to deal with right now, but Zac wasn't about to let him deal with whatever he was dealing with alone, either.
**************
"Going into town" on Coney Island was apparently the same thing as walking along the main strip to the masses of tourists who frequented the popular summer destination. The strip stretched along the beach, the boardwalk rose atop the sand with staircases that led onto the beach, and as you walked, you could see scantily-clad bathers and waders as far as the eye could see. Thousands crowded the beach, leaving Zac to wonder how anyone could have a rest-filled, peaceful vacation in such company. Then his mind wandered to Bessie and her tiny, yellow swimsuit and he smiled at the fantasy of being out on the beach with her. Except that he would have to take her far, far away, down the beach where it was quiet and private and they could be alone. Not only would he not be able stand the never ending stares he knew she would get from the men, but he would need to make love to her right there on the sand. He would have to. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her, looking the way she would.
He hadn't realized the permanent, gooney smile that rested on his face as his mind wandered away until Taylor's gruff voice complained, "Christ, is it that difficult to find a god damned general store around here? I can't see shit for all these fucking people."
The signs sat high above the stores, in perfect sight, but Zac decided not to press his luck with his brother's mood. Instead, he ripped his mind away from Bessie just long enough to concentrate on finding a store so they could get back to the trailer and get to work.
Several minutes later, they were struck with good luck as they ended up in one of the most spacious general stores they'd ever been in. Finding the things they needed wasn't difficult and as Zac helped his brother stock up, he watched carefully as Taylor studied a lace handkerchief, turning it over and over in his hand. Catching his eye, Taylor glanced up at Zac and Zac saw the pain in his eyes. Taylor had never fallen in love before. And to have to leave her so soon after proposing marriage--and so soon after finding the love, no less--had to be taking a toll on him. After all, Taylor had no idea what to think or how to act or feel. He just knew he missed a woman that he couldn't write letters to, a woman who was probably unphased by the idea of travel and--and was that it? Was Taylor wondering if Aishe missed him? Or did he wonder if this was just another month for her? She was used to distance, she was used to loss, she was used to travel. And so was Taylor. But were either one of them used to missing or being missed? Had Taylor's confidence taken a devastating blow?
Whatever it was, though Zac was sure he had it figured out, Taylor sure wasn't giving it up.
Cautiously, Zac joined his brother and glanced at the handkerchief. "That's, uh, that's lovely," Zac said.
"Yeah," Taylor agreed quietly. "It is."
"I could make sure she gets it," Zac volunteered. "Bessie would take it right to her. She could read her--"
"I don't need anyone else involved in my own, private thoughts, especially ones that I wouldn't share with anyone but my future wife," Taylor snarled through his teeth.
"Okay," Zac conceded, swallowing hard. "Then just send her the handkerchief."
"No," Taylor said quietly.
"Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"Because," he said, turning the lace handkerchief over in his hand once more. Zac's heart pounded with anticipation. Then Taylor sighed. "Because by the time it gets to her, we'll be on our way home, anyway, I'm sure. I'll just--I'll just give it to her myself."
Letting out a breath, his heart going out to his brother, Zac could only nod. "Why don't you, uh, wait outside and I'll pay for this stuff? I'll be right out."
Taylor carried the handkerchief out of the store. Zac wasn't sure if the shop keep had noticed or not, but he hoped that if he was honest and paid for the cloth piece himself, that a scene wouldn't be created because of it. Thankfully, checkout went smoothly and the clerk was bagging up the purchases when a couple of voices could be heard right outside the shop door.
"Nice handkerchief," the young male voice said.
"You think so?" Taylor asked. "I bought it for--"
"Yeah," a second voice said. "It suits you just fine."
As the two unknown voices chuckled, Taylor could be heard trying to correct them. "It's not--it's not for me, it's for--"
"Likely story, queer," one of them said. "Why, you're as pretty as that lace you hold in your hand. Whatcha doin' out here, anyway, waiting for your boyfriend?"
The rage was rising within Zac quickly and in the same instant, he worried. The truth was, Taylor was much more dangerous than he came across. Once, several years prior, Zac watched him take down two men, both twice the size of him, just because he knew exactly where to hit them to take them out. It didn't take much physical effort at all and the length of Taylor's knowledge seemed to know no bounds.
"Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?" Taylor asked, suddenly. "Walking up and harassing innocent people on the street--?"
"Because we don't take kindly to queers around here," Voice Number Two said.
"First of all, I'm not queer. I'm engaged to be married. Secondly, take a look around. You're in fucking New York. There are probably fifty queers within your eyesight right now and you're trying to fuck with the one that isn't. If your job is to take out queers, you're not very good at it, I gotta say."
Suddenly, taking Zac's attention from the outside of the door, the clerk murmured, "Doesn't sound good out there."
"No," Zac agreed. "That's my brother out there. And the handkerchief is for his fiancée, who he had to leave back home in Oklahoma to be here. And he misses her. And, honestly, I'm more afraid for those boys right now than I am for him getting bullied around a little bit."
"Want me to hold on to your stuff while you go assess the situation?"
Finally, Zac tore his eyes away from the door and looked across the counter. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great, actually. Thanks."
As Zac stepped out the door, he spied the two young men surrounding Taylor. They looked similar to each other, possibly brothers or cousins, ironically family themselves, both dressed in hats and suspenders. Once they got a look at Zac, the game was on.
"Is this him?" Voice Number One laughed. "Is this your boyfriend?"
"He's my brother," Taylor replied through gritted teeth.
"That's probably the story you use to cover up your little queer romance," Voice Number Two taunted. "Hey, queer. Your boyfriend bought you some lace, isn't it pretty?"
"Why are you so convinced my brother's queer?" Zac asked them, sizing the pair up.
"Look at him. He looks like a queer. He's a pretty boy with the pretty face and the pretty hair. And the pretty handkerchief..."
"Don't you think maybe calling him pretty makes you just as queer?" Zac asked.
The two young men sputtered and made denial after denial, having been backed into a corner with no witty comeback. Zac took advantage. "You probably ought to watch what you say. This, here, is my brother. And he's not queer, he has a fiancée back home that he's bought that piece of material for. Truth is, you may think he looks pretty, but I can guaran-damn-tee you both he's had more tail in his time than the two of you could ever dream of. Look around you. Even as we speak, women can't keep their eyes off of him. He could take any one of them in a heartbeat if he wanted to. Any of them looking at you? Or you? Probably not."
The two of them glanced at each other until Voice Number Two tried to finish what they started. "Yeah? That right, queer? You got this burly one out here fighting your battles for you 'cause you're too pussy?"
"Excuse me?" Taylor replied menacingly. "What in the hell did you just call me?"
"You heard me."
"Yeah, you heard him."
"Oh, hell," Zac said, his volume rising as if he were standing above them onstage. "You've gone and done it now. You see, my brother and I, here, well we have a show over in the park. Throwing axes, that is, true story. Axes, tomahawks, knives, we throw them all. And my brother is the brains behind the whole deal. He's an expert thrower, skilled in the art. Left a few marks on a few men in our hometown back in Oklahoma. Except he makes me do the throwing in our act. He makes me do it so's he doesn't lose his temper and...you know..."
He had the young men's attention and Voice Number Once couldn't resist, with his jaw slack, "...what?"
"Kill anyone," Zac spat. Then his voice grew louder. "My brother's a loose cannon, this one. Even I don't like to mess with him. You see how I'm standing several feet away instead of alongside him? He's even snapped on me a few times, there's no telling when he'll snap next. Even I have to keep my distance and I'm his own flesh and blood."
The young men glanced at each other once more and Zac couldn't help his smirk as he watched them take a step back. Taylor was shoving the handkerchief into his pocket and adjusting his already-short sleeves, unbuttoning his vest. Was he chiming in on the act or was he being real? The startling truth was, Zac wasn't really sure.
"Why don't you boys, uh, run along and go find yourselves a piece of tail around here or something, there's plenty of it. There's nothing more for you here, unless you fancy a good, old fashioned pounding. That's all you'll get from us."
Surprisingly, this caused the young men to buck up and raise their chins high. "Yeah?" Voice Number One challenged. "I ain't backing down from no queer. Or his queer boyfriend."
"I already said I ain't queer," Taylor replied darkly.
Zac scoffed, trying his hardest to keep the mood light. "I already said I was his brother, boys, Jesus, give me a little credit. I got a girl, too, and she's much prettier than him."
"You sure you want to do this?" Taylor asked, taking a step forward. "You sure?"
Zac sighed and shook his head, taking off his cap and tossing it on the sidewalk. "God damn it," he muttered.
And then the scuffle was on.
It didn't amount to much. They got their licks in, one good hook right after the other. By the time it was over, Taylor and Zac hadn't been touched, and both young men were laid out on the ground with bloodied noses.
Before Zac had time to react, the shop keep bustled out of the shop with Zac's paper shopping bag full of merchandise and said hastily, shoving it forcefully into Zac's chest, "Here. Take this and get out of here. Coppers run rampant around here during the summer and they're not too sensitive when it comes to public fighting."
It took one look at each other before Taylor and Zac were tearing down the boardwalk in the middle of the Coney Island strip. Zac was almost giddy with excitement. They hadn't done this in years. It felt just like Zac and Taylor were back on the same old team again.
*************
The next night, after their eventful afternoon and successful completion of a dummy that even Zac would have looked twice at, it was time for their Luna Park debut. Zac resented Taylor, now, for tearing up the sleeves of all their shirts as they peered out the curtain at the startlingly large crowd that had gathered 'round. For a park in bankruptcy and a country in a depression, people sure were anxious to get themselves back in the park. Isaac's plan to "fake" their suits was pretty much their only option, as they felt the lumberjack look was inappropriate for this location. So they put on their coattails, adjusted their collars, and dug out their white gloves, taking their act back to the dapper trio that The Incredible Hansons used to be back in their hey day.
Luna Park was truly a magical sight to behold once the sun went down. There wasn't a structure in the park that wasn't rigged up with bright white lights, the night sky glittering across the property as far as the eye could see. The light breeze that blew in off of the Atlantic was a welcome variation in climate, as the daylight hours had been stifling, reaching temperatures that were almost unheard of in that section of the country. All around them, they heard the sounds of joy and adventure--the roaring of mechanical rides, screeching and bellowing of monkeys and elephants in the distance, laughter and murmuring of the thousands of patrons that milled around the park and took in the sights. Music could be heard amongst the crowd, coming from shows and games and various street performers. The night sky was clear, the moon was bright, and the mood was light and jovial. This was one of the moments that Zac missed Bessie the most. What he would have given for Bessie to experience this night. He would have lost her in an instant to a corn dog and a juggler on stilts, but he would have loved every second of it.
The curtain call came before they knew it and to start the show, Isaac hooked the growing audience with his gripping monologue, using fancy terms and elaborate hand gestures to play up their series of small card tricks and disappearing acts. Isaac kicked off the night with a basic card trick, guessing a volunteer's card, before they moved on to more elaborate tricks such as disappearing rabbits and the tearing of Isaac's infamous newspaper.
The show seemed to drag on forever, Zac desperately trying to keep his head in the game and maybe overdoing it a little bit on the dramatics in order to keep himself distracted by the new stunt that he knew was coming up. This was one of the biggest stunts they'd ever attempted, save for the time when Taylor surprisingly succeeded in making an entire goat disappear and, in turn, misplacing the beast, only to find it wandering the carnival midway moments later. What could have been a detriment to their act was recovered quickly by Taylor's quick thinking, making the rowdy goat "reappear" after Zac had been sent to wrangle it up. Zac learned two valuable lessons that night--to always rehearse your new stunts and that goats aren't amused by travel via potato sack.
By the time Taylor pulled a cord that had been rigged to a black cloth designed to drop down and hide their new, large, wooden wheel, and he and Isaac had disappeared behind it, Zac was sweating bullets. He hadn't had near as much practice with the throwing, nor had the spent as much time being taught by the Native Americans as he should have. Okay, so maybe Taylor was right in his constant brooding. Maybe Zac was wrapped up in Bessie a little too much. Because now he had to come to terms with the fact that he was standing there, alone onstage, with nothing but a black cloth and a spotlight, with absolutely no idea what he was doing.
His eyes darted around at the crowd, at faces that he found were growing alarmingly bored. The nearby music was only barely covering the knocking and the grunting behind the curtain and Zac had no idea what he was supposed to be doing to fill the time. They'd ironed out every single detail except for that very important one. Looking out at the crowd once more, spying the faces of the many pretty, young women, he remembered what had been making them money for the past couple of weeks. And since they'd come to see him--and he had a couple of minutes to spare--he might as well have gotten ready for the main event.
Turning his back, he fiddled with the button on his coat and peeled the black shield off of his shoulders, sliding it down his arms, and tossing it to the side of the stage, the breeze instantly feeling like heaven against his bare arms. He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, making sure they wrapped comfortably around his biceps, and he followed up by removing his vest, stripping down his suspenders, and unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt. As much as he wasn't a fan of the reasoning behind their new "show attire," he had to admit, he felt incredible, as he'd always hated being restricted in the penguin costumes the brothers had become associated with.
By the time he removed his cap and shook his hair out onto his shoulders, he could hear the gasps and he swore he heard one woman near the front mutter, "Good lord," and he couldn't help smirking to himself. Negative or positive attention, either way...superficially, Zac knew how big his tip would be from her, at least. And if they were performing in a bankrupt park against an acrobat on a ladder, well then a man had to do what a man had to do. If all it took was getting a little comfortable, and feeling better in the process, then so be it.
Smiling, he turned and faced the crowd and threw his hands up in the air with a shrug. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, here I am. This is me. Obviously, I'm not the costume manager in this group."
The crowd chuckled lightly as Zac ran his hand through his hair.
"This next act, though," he continued. "It's something to see, I'll tell you. Once you see it, you'll understand why I had to...disrobe," he finished with a naughty smirk and a sly arch of his eyebrow. His eyes landed directly on a young, college-aged girl and he swore he watched her melt on impact.
Before he could do anymore flirting, however, the black curtain flew up, probably much faster than Taylor had intended, and the spotlight that had shone on Zac suddenly doubled and landed directly on the large, wooden wheel.
Perched up on its stand, erected in its full glory, the wheel was much larger than Zac had anticipated. No wonder they sounded like they were having so much trouble with it behind the curtain. As the crowd gasped, Isaac beamed as he twirled a lock of the dummy's hair between his fingertips. "She's a looker, ain't she?" He announced proudly. Then he gave the wheel a good, violent spin, sending the crowd into a light frenzy. "This lovely lady, here, is Myrtle," Isaac announced, his volume rising. The dummy spun with the wheel as she lay strapped to it, her hair and her dress hanging all over the place, and Zac wasn't sure if he wanted to be sick from performance nerves or from possible prop malfunctioning. "She isn't much for conversation," Isaac continued. Then he laid his hand aside his mouth. "And she isn't much in the sack, either, if you know what I mean." This garnered a roar from the men and a chuckle from the emcee himself. "So we figured, what the hell? Only thing she's good for is strapping her up and using her for target practice!"
The crowd bellowed with laughter and for the first time, Zac was a little nervous about how far Isaac might take his jokes. The Incredible Hansons weren't known for being inappropriate. Easy on the eyes, sure. Maybe a little daring, maybe a little off-the-cuff. But never inappropriate. And right now, Isaac was riding the line.
Just in the nick of time, however, he got right down to business as he sauntered to the front of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've come to our show on a very important night. For tonight, The Incredible Hansons debut, for the first time, something truly incredible. Something unlike anything we've ever done before. Something so dangerous and so savage that--well, that when we decided to do it, we could only think of one of us who was perfect for the daunting task. And our baby brother, here, Zachary, well--he's just damn crazy enough to be perfect for it! And now, without further ado, prepare to witness the skill and the brute strength of a very unpredictable young man! This act is not for the faint of heart, the light of stomach, or the weak-minded! So, children, stay close to mother! Scream to your daddy! Pray that Myrtle comes out of this...alive!"
With that, Isaac made his dramatic exit, taking his place feet away from the side of the wheel in front of Zac. Zac's knees trembled and his palms sweated as Taylor came to his side and peeled the cloth off of the enormous knives that lay on a table next to Zac. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you please," Taylor announced. "Zachary will need complete and total silence during this act!"
You could have heard a pin drop on the grassy floor underneath the ten-in-one.
Zac gripped the handle of the first knife and bore his eyes into dummy. His eyes darted around at the colored wood peeking around underneath her and he fought to remember what the Native American chief had taught him. Then he released his grip and pinched the knife between his fingers--thumb on the center of one side and his first three fingers on the other. Looking back up at the target before him, he let out a breath, loosened up his shoulders, and then he threw, snapping his wrist and opening his hand to let go.
The crowd gasped as the knife landed near the outer edge of the wheel. Shit! He was already starting in the wrong direction!
No matter. It was his first time. At least he didn't hit her. His goal was to only get close to her, so at least he didn't hit her and at least he didn't miss the wheel completely. Worse things had happened.
A little more confident now that his first throw was officially out of the way, Zac gripped the second knife with a little more fervor. This throw pinned her hair against the wood. Okay, okay. That time, he came a little too close. But he still hadn't hurt her, so he decided he was doing good.
Then he made the mistake of turning around and looking into the crowd. He watched the women clutch their purses with nerves and their husbands smirked skeptically. Then his mind went to Bessie. Would she even want him doing anything like this at all? What would she think of their fake, female target? Would she disapprove? Would she think it was disrespectful? Would it scare her? Would she think that he secretly wanted to throw knives at her? Why had he never thought of this?
Because thinking of it was his demise. It was his downfall. And the one time he allowed his mind to wander off track, just for a second, the entire act was thrown. It was a wash when the third knife sank deep into the dummy's leg and meal poured out all over the stage.
They knew this could happen. They knew it was a possibility, that's why Taylor had made her body out of sacks of meal. But it wasn't any less devastating and Zac's heart sank with hatred for himself for being the failure that he always knew he was. All of a sudden, he was a joke. Members of the crowd were beginning to leave and Zac had no idea what to do to recover. They hadn't planned for that, either.
Hastily, and seemingly out of nowhere, Taylor stormed across the stage and violently untied the dummy, jerking her off the wheel and tossing her across the stage. And then, to Zac's horror, he peeled off his own vest and jacket and stepped onto the pegs of the wheel, pressing his back against the multi-colored wood and jerked his head over to Isaac. "Strap me up," he demanded.
"Tay, are you crazy?" Isaac hissed.
"Do it!"
Without further question, and Zac's entire body trembling with fear, Taylor smiled triumphantly at the crowd as Isaac busied himself with tying his brother's wrists to the pegs and removing the stray knife Zac had thrown. "Well, then," Taylor announced. "I think that was a successful warm-up round, don't you?"
The crowd murmured and Zac took one more look to find that instead of thinning, it was actually thickening. It didn't matter now, though. Zac didn't care about the crowd. He didn't care about the money, he didn't care about anything. This was beyond the craziest thing Taylor had ever attempted to do--even crazier than proposing marriage to Aishe.
"Tay," Zac hissed across the stage. "I'm not throwing knives at you. You can forget it!"
"Do it!" Taylor urged. "It's okay. You're my brother. I know you won't hurt me. I trust you."
Zac stood there and looked into his older brother's earnest, trusting eyes and he knew right then that whatever feud they'd been having was over. If Taylor could trust Zac this much, to literally lay his life right there in his hands, Zac knew he'd never lost his best friend. And he knew he could never hurt his brother.
Didn't mean he was any less afraid, though. As Taylor lay strapped up against the wheel, staring a hole into Zac, Zac's knees shook and his palms grew damp. Sweat soaked the hair around his hairline and he raised his wrist to wipe it off his brow before it dripped down into his eyes. His breathing thickened and he was beginning to have a hard time focusing.
"Come on, Zac," Taylor encouraged him. "You've got this. I'm not afraid of you. Look, I'm not even shaking. Come on."
Zac glanced at the table beside him, at the throwing knives that gleamed under the spotlight. He squeezed his eyes shut to rid himself of the visual of the possible mortal mistakes he could potentially make. No. No, he couldn't. There was no room for error. There was no trying, there were no what-ifs. There was only success. There was no other option. There was no room for failure.
Taking a deep breath and shaking the hair out of his face, Zac took a knife in his hand. As Taylor nodded in encouragement, Zac never took his eyes off of his. Rubbing his fingers against the cool, smooth handle, Zac shook out his joints once more. And then...
He threw.
He threw so hard that the thunking sound that the blade made as it sunk deep into the wood was deafening in the tense silence that filled the ten-in-one. Momentarily, Zac was blinded as Taylor's eyes grew wide and he blinked as his Adam's apple actively slid around under the skin, swallowing hard in reaction to the throw. Once Zac snapped back, his eyes searched frantically for the knife and found it near the bottom, pinning the cuff of Taylor's pant leg against the wheel.
Holy shit, that was too close for comfort.
After finding a little clarity, a smile full of desperate relief spread across Taylor's face and he nodded. "That was great. Now go higher." He nodded his head back against the wood. "Up top."
The knife-throwing was the longest stunt Zac had ever participated in, though it only lasted several minutes, it felt like hours. Miraculously, the closest Zac ever got to Taylor was the pant leg pin. Zac missed a few times, but he didn't care. As long as he didn't hit Taylor, he didn't care where the knives went. He didn't care if the stunt failed miserably.
Once it was over, Zac was ready to kill Taylor for putting them in that position. There was no time for killing, however, because as soon as the crowd erupted into applause, Zac raced off the stage and out the back of the ten-in-one and vomited up everything he'd ingested in the entire day. Once he'd emptied his stomach and there was nothing left to heave, he stumbled several feet away and collapsed onto the cool grass.
He lay there, on his stomach, for what felt like the entire night. Neither of his brothers called him in for cleanup and he'd decided that he was done with the act for the night. Taylor and Isaac could throw knives at each other all night long if they wanted to, he didn't care. But Zac wasn't throwing anything anywhere close to anything that breathed ever again.
After awhile, he heard Taylor's voice carry over the grass from the back of the ten-in-one. "Zac! What are you doing out here?"
Zac's response was an incoherent murmur into the earth.
Coming closer, Zac could feel Taylor's strong hand as it grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. "Zac. You wouldn't believe the money we made just off that one show! Zac. There's a hundred dollars in the pot! At least! And that's not even counting ticket commission from Barney Harper! Why, if we do, what, at least three or four shows a day? We could come out of Coney Island with over two grand, just this week! And we haven't even made it to the city yet!"
Taylor had Zac's attention and he nearly ate the dirt underneath him as he turned his head to face him. "A hundred dollars?"
"Yes!"
"That's nearly double what we made in Boston and Philly."
"Double? That's nearly triple!"
"I'm not throwing anymore knives at you. That was stupid, Tay. It was fucking stupid."
"Then throw them at Ike, I don't care. We can alternate--"
"No. I'm not throwing knives at either one of you."
"But, Zac, that's where the money--"
"No. I'll throw knives all day long, but we will not put each other in harm's way like that. What you did was admirable, Tay, and I get why you did it, but it was stupid. And I need you to promise me you won't ever pull some stupid shit like that again."
"I can't promise that, Zac," Taylor whispered. "People loved it. It was a hit. I can't promise you."
With that, Zac's head collapsed back onto the ground. Leave it to Taylor, ever the showman, to declare that the show must go on--no matter the impaling risks required to make it happen.
My Sweet Girl,
We're in Coney Island like my telegram said. I was so happy to get one back from you today even though it simply said you loved me, it means everything to me. I miss you so much, Bess. I have never felt loneliness like this in my entire life. I just need you to hold me. And kiss me and run your fingers through my hair and tell me everything is okay. Not that it's going bad here, I just need you. I need you so much. Is that sappy of me?
It turns out that we were a little misled about the Coney Island run. It appears as though Luna Park, the park we're performing in, is in bankruptcy and we're part of some grand reopening. Bankruptcy, Bessie. If people actually come to this thing, I will be shocked.
We met a new guy, someone who just joined the troupe between Philadelphia and here. His name is Claude and he climbs a ladder. That might not sound very exciting and my brothers and I felt the same way. And then we watched him rehearse and we couldn't believe our eyes. I've never seen a person do so many tricks with a ladder in my life. He carries it around and he climbs it up and down and he flips it and twirls it and spins it and jumps around on it. It's really something to see, Bess, I wish you could witness it. And he seems to be a very popular act. We're not sure if we should feel threatened by his popularity or not. We're hoping that our act is different enough that people might want to spend just as much money on us. Which reminds me, Tay put together the new trick in our act and...well, I really wish you were here, sweet girl. I need you. I need to talk to you. Something happened the first night we debuted it that made me extremely uncomfortable, but Tay seems to be completely fine with it and wants to do it again. But I don't know, Bessie. I need you to tell me what to do. I need your voice and your words of wisdom and encouragement.
Anyway, I have to wrap this up now if I'm going to be rested for tomorrow. We're having to work extra hard this week to try to bring in as much money as we can. On the plus side, it's only another short week or two before I can come home to you. And I can't wait. The time can't move fast enough.
I love you, my sweet Bessie. Forever and always, I belong to you.
Yours,
Zac
The ferry trip to Coney Island was nearly as rough on Zac's stomach as the car ride was, if not more. While this wasn't the brothers' first experience with a ferry, it had been awhile since the last encounter and the ride affected the brothers in different ways. While Zac fought to keep his stomach intact, Isaac worried nervously about the precious cargo their travel trailer held upon the ferry, and Taylor spent the majority of the ride perched dangerously atop the ferry's railings, snapping photograph after photograph of anything he could possibly capture on camera.
Docking the ferry was nearly a dream come true and Zac resisted the urge to kiss the solid ground. Even if he wanted to, there was no time, because Isaac was immediately loading them up to drive them to Luna Park.
There was an unspoken, childlike excitement brewing between the three brothers on that warm, overcast morning at the notion of going to Luna Park. Back in the late twenties, when they were at the very height of their fame in vaudeville, they had taken many trips to Luna Park to escape their crowded residency in the city. They treated various dates to the elaborate amusements, necking in the lagoon boats or getting lucky in the dark, loud indoor rides and attractions. Then there were the times when it was just the three of them, taking in the circus acts or eating their weight in hot dogs or riding roller coasters until they were sick. Luna Park was the most over-the-top, lavish, and ornate amusement park they'd ever been to and they could never wait to go back every time they found themselves in New York.
Ever since vaudeville died and they ended up on the carnival circuit, however, the concept of playing at Luna Park was a dream. They'd always been as patrons, but never as entertainment, and they always watched the entertainment in awe, marveling at how detailed and ornate the acts were and amazed by all the money they seemed to haul in every night. Luna Park employed their own acts and entertainment, subject-specific to the particular areas of the park they played in and they never seemed to take in local, carnival-style traveling acts--until now, it seemed. It seemed that being in a bankruptcy apparently made the owner of the park desperate. And upon speaking once more with Barney Harper upon their arrival to the park, there could possibly be room enough for the park owner to want to employ an act or two full time. Isaac and Taylor's eyes lit up at this concept like children at Christmas. Zac, for at least the fifth time that day, wanted to vomit.
The luster and the wonders of Luna Park seemed a distant memory now as they stood in the overcast daylight, observing the silent and seemingly deserted attraction. The brothers had grounded their trailer on a grass-covered back lot and opted to take in the park from a business point of view as opposed to the patron point of view they were used to. They knew the current depression that the country currently found itself in was rough on everyone, from sea to shining sea. But when a place as frequented as Luna Park was affected the way it was, the nature of the country's economical situation became a serious eye-opener and, for the first time, the brothers found themselves genuinely concerned with whether this trek up north was worth the trip or not.
They didn't even have to utter a word out loud as they glanced at each other, for they all knew what was going on in the others' heads--they were mentally calculating their current profits and how much it had taken them to travel from home. It was the first time since they'd left Tulsa that they were actually concerned as to whether they'd actually make it home or not. But Zac would. Come hell or high water, by God, no matter how he had to do it, Zac was going home to Bessie. And he wouldn't let any bankrupt amusement park, anywhere in the world, stop him.
Luna Park was thirty-eight acres of amusement as far as the eye could see. The park offered it all--heart-stopping rides, amazing animals, thrilling shows, and scenery that could take you from one continent of the world to another in a matter of just a few footsteps. High coasters and Ferris wheels showed you the crowded beach and sparkling ocean just beyond the park and, at night, the park was illuminated with thousands of glittering lights, turning it into an evening of beauty and magic. It was at night where all the money was expected to be made, which gave them the day to rehearse and prepare.
"We need to finish the throwing act," Taylor murmured, breaking their silence as the brothers looked around.
Taylor was still barely speaking to Zac after their argument, and Zac was returning the favor. He knew they'd have to speak to each other in full sentences eventually, but for now, Zac chose to let Taylor brood in peace.
Barney Harper's ten-in-one was to be erected in a section of the park that was still under renovation. Choosing to place it at what would be the entrance of the revamped section of the park, Zac's pessimistic nature could only come to one conclusion--Barney Harper hadn't been hired for talent, he'd been hired as a mere blocker so that patrons wouldn't be turned off at unsightly portions of the scenery. The more Zac observed about their situation, the less confident he felt about this leg of the tour. It was more than tempting to tell old Harper that he could go screw himself while The Incredible Hansons took their act into the big city alone. But Isaac, ever the opportunist that he was, implored Zac to see it through and not make any rash decisions. Because he remembered Taylor's words and chose to think of the act as a whole, Zac backed down. But his patience was wearing extremely thin.
Wordlessly, the brothers followed Taylor back to their temporary living quarters to work on the remains of the female dummy they were putting together to pin to the multi-colored wooden wheel. She would be as realistic as they could make her, with the head of a mannequin that Taylor scored off of a department store that had gone out of business, repainted by Zac, a lovely ensemble purchased from a secondhand store in Philadelphia, and a body made of potato sacks and cornmeal. "Why not just buy the entire mannequin?" Zac had asked. "It would make it much more realistic."
"Because if you screw up and you hit her, she's done for," Taylor had replied. "At least we can refill and re-stitch the sacks if you hit her."
Zac determined that Taylor was a genius and he never asked anymore about it.
On the way back to the trailer, however, the brothers were stopped by a curious sight that had been brought to their attention by way of the cheers and the laughter that had caught their ears. Several trailers away from theirs, a small crowd of their peers were gathered around, with Barney Harper at the forefront, and they seemed to be having a big time over something that was taking place in the center. Momentarily abandoning their plans for creating their new leading lady, whom they'd affectionately dubbed Myrtle, the brothers couldn't help being drawn in by a curiosity that had seemingly done their walking for them, as they found themselves in the back of the crowd before they knew it.
In the center was a small man and a ladder. The man barely stood over five feet and looked like he must have weighed next to nothing. He was of some type of European descent, possibly Russian or Italian, with dark hair and big, brown eyes. He was dressed simply in trousers, suspenders, and a white tee shirt, and his smile and his eyes read nothing but joy and gratitude.
His companion was a straight ladder that reached nearly seven feet and had flat feet on one end, no doubt to accommodate his act. Before their eyes, with a single ladder and nothing to prop it against, the man practically flew all over it, balancing it as he climbed up it and over it, slid down it, twirled and bounced it around, flipped it, threw it, and did handstands off of the flat ends.
The Hanson brothers couldn't help but be mesmerized, much like the rest of the crowd, and Barney Harper laughed and applauded like he was the greatest thing that ever walked--or climbed--the planet. Once he was brought out of his momentary trance, Zac scowled in Harper's direction. Who the hell was this little jumping bean, anyway? The Incredible Hansons were the stars of this troupe--everybody knew it. So why the hell was old Harper doting on this guy as if he'd just replaced the Hansons' act? Zac immediately hated the little man.
Harper must have felt Zac's eyes on him, because he turned around and his eyes lit up when he spied him and his brothers. "Zac! Isaac, Taylor, come," his graying whiskers smiled. "Come meet Claude, the newest addition to our little troupe!"
Zac knew it.
Claude was polite, shaking hands as introductions were announced. Claude was familiar with them and complimented their act, which should have humbled Zac and made him feel better, except that it didn't. His name was Claudio Passerini and went by Climbin' Claude in his act. He was an immigrant who had brought his family to Brooklyn ten years ago to escape the slums of Italy and start a better life. After a series of odd jobs, he had a near mishap on a ladder in the meat packing district of Manhattan and avoided it by quick-thinking and balancing and decided right then and there that he had a gift. Since then, he'd joined the carnival and apparently had much success with his act and contacted Barney when he found out about the Luna Park gig. The more he spoke in his thick, Italian accent, the more Zac tried to hate the man, but his hatred was dwindling fast. Instead, it was replacing itself with respect and he had to hand it to the guy--he was talented and if Zac was him, he would have been all over Barney Harper for the Luna Park gig, too. He couldn't hate him for that. He just hoped he stayed out of the way of their act.
Surprisingly, Isaac wasn't willing to leave Claude's side anytime soon. Taylor expressed need for finishing the dummy, at which Isaac waved him off and told him it wouldn't take three people to complete it. And so Zac and Taylor found themselves alone, and in silence, walking back to their trailer.
Upon entering their mobile abode, Taylor spoke not a word, but when straight to retrieving the parts to the dummy. The silence was awkward, not something that should be felt between brothers and family, but it was awkward, nonetheless. The truth was, Zac wasn't sure how to feel about Taylor at the moment. There were moments when Taylor was his normal, optimistic, sunshiny self, and then there were moments where he seemed miles away from everything and hated life. Zac didn't know how to read him. He didn't know if he was dealing with personal issues, if he was resenting Zac for his relationship with Bessie, or even if he was on the way to disowning Zac altogether. Zac hated the possibility of growing apart from Taylor. Taylor had been his best friend for his entire life and they'd grown especially close since their parents had passed away. As Zac watched Taylor toil away, wrapping, tying, and stitching, Zac let out a breath, realizing that he didn't want to lose his brother. He loved him and he needed him. And he needed to be the bigger person and end this little feud, once and for all.
"Tay. Look, um. So, listen--"
Loudly, Taylor dropped the knife and the sack he was working on that would be a leg and let out a breath, running his hand through his fine hair. "There isn't enough here," he muttered. "We need more twine. And more needles. And more everything, really, I'm sure we're going to need spares of it all."
"Tay," he said softly. "Don't you think this is growing to be a little much? We only have a couple weeks left--"
"So, what, you want to cheat paying spectators out of a show just because we have a little bit of time? Spectators who will see us only one time and may or may not recommend others? Have you really just given up on us completely? Finally?"
Zac narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to study his brother. "I don't know where you've all of a sudden gotten the idea that I want to give up on the act," he said as gently as he could. "I miss my girl. Am I not allowed to miss her? Does that automatically mean I've given up on us?"
"Well, it's apparent that you don't want to be here. Why else wouldn't you want to be here?"
"Things are different now," Zac said quietly. "Things have changed, life goes on. I think--I think I found the person I want to be back home, Tay. I think--"
"You want to run a feed store for the rest of your life?" Taylor spat with resentment. "That's what you want? That old man can barely feed himself with the way the country's economy is right now while we sit up here and roll in the dough every night. Don't you want to survive, Zac? Don't you want a real life and a real future?"
"I just want to be Bessie's husband," Zac whispered.
"Right," Taylor scoffed. "You're going to run home and she's going to run off to school. You'll write letters to each other, you'll see each other for a couple months out of the year, and you still think you're going to marry her. The reality is, Zac, you're going to grow apart once she leaves. It's going to happen. Don't forget, I lived it with Millie. For two years. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. It just makes it forget."
"Never," Zac replied confidently. "No, the difference is, you and Millie never loved each other. But Bessie lives in my soul. She is the air that I breathe and the reason that I am allowed to exist on this earth. My entire being is Bessie. And don't you dare sit there and condemn me for being in love when you proposed to a woman who's sitting back in Tulsa, waiting for you right now. Don't be a hypocrite, Tay. Don't sit there and pretend like you don't understand love and what it feels like to miss her. I know this trip is killing you, being away from Aishe, just like being away from Bessie is killing me. I know it is. And instead of dealing with it, you're taking it out on me. Well, you know what, Tay? My heart hurts every night and every morning, but at least I'm making the effort to communicate with her and ease the pain, if only just a little. What the hell are you doing?"
Taylor looked up from the hole in the table that his blue eyes had been boring and glared at his younger brother, his jaw set tight, his nostrils flaring with rage. Instead of the outburst that Zac was expecting, Taylor stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking around him for his wool cap. "I'm going into town for supplies," he murmured.
"You want company?"
"I don't care."
At that, Zac followed his brother out of the trailer. He was impossible to deal with right now, but Zac wasn't about to let him deal with whatever he was dealing with alone, either.
**************
"Going into town" on Coney Island was apparently the same thing as walking along the main strip to the masses of tourists who frequented the popular summer destination. The strip stretched along the beach, the boardwalk rose atop the sand with staircases that led onto the beach, and as you walked, you could see scantily-clad bathers and waders as far as the eye could see. Thousands crowded the beach, leaving Zac to wonder how anyone could have a rest-filled, peaceful vacation in such company. Then his mind wandered to Bessie and her tiny, yellow swimsuit and he smiled at the fantasy of being out on the beach with her. Except that he would have to take her far, far away, down the beach where it was quiet and private and they could be alone. Not only would he not be able stand the never ending stares he knew she would get from the men, but he would need to make love to her right there on the sand. He would have to. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her, looking the way she would.
He hadn't realized the permanent, gooney smile that rested on his face as his mind wandered away until Taylor's gruff voice complained, "Christ, is it that difficult to find a god damned general store around here? I can't see shit for all these fucking people."
The signs sat high above the stores, in perfect sight, but Zac decided not to press his luck with his brother's mood. Instead, he ripped his mind away from Bessie just long enough to concentrate on finding a store so they could get back to the trailer and get to work.
Several minutes later, they were struck with good luck as they ended up in one of the most spacious general stores they'd ever been in. Finding the things they needed wasn't difficult and as Zac helped his brother stock up, he watched carefully as Taylor studied a lace handkerchief, turning it over and over in his hand. Catching his eye, Taylor glanced up at Zac and Zac saw the pain in his eyes. Taylor had never fallen in love before. And to have to leave her so soon after proposing marriage--and so soon after finding the love, no less--had to be taking a toll on him. After all, Taylor had no idea what to think or how to act or feel. He just knew he missed a woman that he couldn't write letters to, a woman who was probably unphased by the idea of travel and--and was that it? Was Taylor wondering if Aishe missed him? Or did he wonder if this was just another month for her? She was used to distance, she was used to loss, she was used to travel. And so was Taylor. But were either one of them used to missing or being missed? Had Taylor's confidence taken a devastating blow?
Whatever it was, though Zac was sure he had it figured out, Taylor sure wasn't giving it up.
Cautiously, Zac joined his brother and glanced at the handkerchief. "That's, uh, that's lovely," Zac said.
"Yeah," Taylor agreed quietly. "It is."
"I could make sure she gets it," Zac volunteered. "Bessie would take it right to her. She could read her--"
"I don't need anyone else involved in my own, private thoughts, especially ones that I wouldn't share with anyone but my future wife," Taylor snarled through his teeth.
"Okay," Zac conceded, swallowing hard. "Then just send her the handkerchief."
"No," Taylor said quietly.
"Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"Because," he said, turning the lace handkerchief over in his hand once more. Zac's heart pounded with anticipation. Then Taylor sighed. "Because by the time it gets to her, we'll be on our way home, anyway, I'm sure. I'll just--I'll just give it to her myself."
Letting out a breath, his heart going out to his brother, Zac could only nod. "Why don't you, uh, wait outside and I'll pay for this stuff? I'll be right out."
Taylor carried the handkerchief out of the store. Zac wasn't sure if the shop keep had noticed or not, but he hoped that if he was honest and paid for the cloth piece himself, that a scene wouldn't be created because of it. Thankfully, checkout went smoothly and the clerk was bagging up the purchases when a couple of voices could be heard right outside the shop door.
"Nice handkerchief," the young male voice said.
"You think so?" Taylor asked. "I bought it for--"
"Yeah," a second voice said. "It suits you just fine."
As the two unknown voices chuckled, Taylor could be heard trying to correct them. "It's not--it's not for me, it's for--"
"Likely story, queer," one of them said. "Why, you're as pretty as that lace you hold in your hand. Whatcha doin' out here, anyway, waiting for your boyfriend?"
The rage was rising within Zac quickly and in the same instant, he worried. The truth was, Taylor was much more dangerous than he came across. Once, several years prior, Zac watched him take down two men, both twice the size of him, just because he knew exactly where to hit them to take them out. It didn't take much physical effort at all and the length of Taylor's knowledge seemed to know no bounds.
"Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?" Taylor asked, suddenly. "Walking up and harassing innocent people on the street--?"
"Because we don't take kindly to queers around here," Voice Number Two said.
"First of all, I'm not queer. I'm engaged to be married. Secondly, take a look around. You're in fucking New York. There are probably fifty queers within your eyesight right now and you're trying to fuck with the one that isn't. If your job is to take out queers, you're not very good at it, I gotta say."
Suddenly, taking Zac's attention from the outside of the door, the clerk murmured, "Doesn't sound good out there."
"No," Zac agreed. "That's my brother out there. And the handkerchief is for his fiancée, who he had to leave back home in Oklahoma to be here. And he misses her. And, honestly, I'm more afraid for those boys right now than I am for him getting bullied around a little bit."
"Want me to hold on to your stuff while you go assess the situation?"
Finally, Zac tore his eyes away from the door and looked across the counter. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great, actually. Thanks."
As Zac stepped out the door, he spied the two young men surrounding Taylor. They looked similar to each other, possibly brothers or cousins, ironically family themselves, both dressed in hats and suspenders. Once they got a look at Zac, the game was on.
"Is this him?" Voice Number One laughed. "Is this your boyfriend?"
"He's my brother," Taylor replied through gritted teeth.
"That's probably the story you use to cover up your little queer romance," Voice Number Two taunted. "Hey, queer. Your boyfriend bought you some lace, isn't it pretty?"
"Why are you so convinced my brother's queer?" Zac asked them, sizing the pair up.
"Look at him. He looks like a queer. He's a pretty boy with the pretty face and the pretty hair. And the pretty handkerchief..."
"Don't you think maybe calling him pretty makes you just as queer?" Zac asked.
The two young men sputtered and made denial after denial, having been backed into a corner with no witty comeback. Zac took advantage. "You probably ought to watch what you say. This, here, is my brother. And he's not queer, he has a fiancée back home that he's bought that piece of material for. Truth is, you may think he looks pretty, but I can guaran-damn-tee you both he's had more tail in his time than the two of you could ever dream of. Look around you. Even as we speak, women can't keep their eyes off of him. He could take any one of them in a heartbeat if he wanted to. Any of them looking at you? Or you? Probably not."
The two of them glanced at each other until Voice Number Two tried to finish what they started. "Yeah? That right, queer? You got this burly one out here fighting your battles for you 'cause you're too pussy?"
"Excuse me?" Taylor replied menacingly. "What in the hell did you just call me?"
"You heard me."
"Yeah, you heard him."
"Oh, hell," Zac said, his volume rising as if he were standing above them onstage. "You've gone and done it now. You see, my brother and I, here, well we have a show over in the park. Throwing axes, that is, true story. Axes, tomahawks, knives, we throw them all. And my brother is the brains behind the whole deal. He's an expert thrower, skilled in the art. Left a few marks on a few men in our hometown back in Oklahoma. Except he makes me do the throwing in our act. He makes me do it so's he doesn't lose his temper and...you know..."
He had the young men's attention and Voice Number Once couldn't resist, with his jaw slack, "...what?"
"Kill anyone," Zac spat. Then his voice grew louder. "My brother's a loose cannon, this one. Even I don't like to mess with him. You see how I'm standing several feet away instead of alongside him? He's even snapped on me a few times, there's no telling when he'll snap next. Even I have to keep my distance and I'm his own flesh and blood."
The young men glanced at each other once more and Zac couldn't help his smirk as he watched them take a step back. Taylor was shoving the handkerchief into his pocket and adjusting his already-short sleeves, unbuttoning his vest. Was he chiming in on the act or was he being real? The startling truth was, Zac wasn't really sure.
"Why don't you boys, uh, run along and go find yourselves a piece of tail around here or something, there's plenty of it. There's nothing more for you here, unless you fancy a good, old fashioned pounding. That's all you'll get from us."
Surprisingly, this caused the young men to buck up and raise their chins high. "Yeah?" Voice Number One challenged. "I ain't backing down from no queer. Or his queer boyfriend."
"I already said I ain't queer," Taylor replied darkly.
Zac scoffed, trying his hardest to keep the mood light. "I already said I was his brother, boys, Jesus, give me a little credit. I got a girl, too, and she's much prettier than him."
"You sure you want to do this?" Taylor asked, taking a step forward. "You sure?"
Zac sighed and shook his head, taking off his cap and tossing it on the sidewalk. "God damn it," he muttered.
And then the scuffle was on.
It didn't amount to much. They got their licks in, one good hook right after the other. By the time it was over, Taylor and Zac hadn't been touched, and both young men were laid out on the ground with bloodied noses.
Before Zac had time to react, the shop keep bustled out of the shop with Zac's paper shopping bag full of merchandise and said hastily, shoving it forcefully into Zac's chest, "Here. Take this and get out of here. Coppers run rampant around here during the summer and they're not too sensitive when it comes to public fighting."
It took one look at each other before Taylor and Zac were tearing down the boardwalk in the middle of the Coney Island strip. Zac was almost giddy with excitement. They hadn't done this in years. It felt just like Zac and Taylor were back on the same old team again.
*************
The next night, after their eventful afternoon and successful completion of a dummy that even Zac would have looked twice at, it was time for their Luna Park debut. Zac resented Taylor, now, for tearing up the sleeves of all their shirts as they peered out the curtain at the startlingly large crowd that had gathered 'round. For a park in bankruptcy and a country in a depression, people sure were anxious to get themselves back in the park. Isaac's plan to "fake" their suits was pretty much their only option, as they felt the lumberjack look was inappropriate for this location. So they put on their coattails, adjusted their collars, and dug out their white gloves, taking their act back to the dapper trio that The Incredible Hansons used to be back in their hey day.
Luna Park was truly a magical sight to behold once the sun went down. There wasn't a structure in the park that wasn't rigged up with bright white lights, the night sky glittering across the property as far as the eye could see. The light breeze that blew in off of the Atlantic was a welcome variation in climate, as the daylight hours had been stifling, reaching temperatures that were almost unheard of in that section of the country. All around them, they heard the sounds of joy and adventure--the roaring of mechanical rides, screeching and bellowing of monkeys and elephants in the distance, laughter and murmuring of the thousands of patrons that milled around the park and took in the sights. Music could be heard amongst the crowd, coming from shows and games and various street performers. The night sky was clear, the moon was bright, and the mood was light and jovial. This was one of the moments that Zac missed Bessie the most. What he would have given for Bessie to experience this night. He would have lost her in an instant to a corn dog and a juggler on stilts, but he would have loved every second of it.
The curtain call came before they knew it and to start the show, Isaac hooked the growing audience with his gripping monologue, using fancy terms and elaborate hand gestures to play up their series of small card tricks and disappearing acts. Isaac kicked off the night with a basic card trick, guessing a volunteer's card, before they moved on to more elaborate tricks such as disappearing rabbits and the tearing of Isaac's infamous newspaper.
The show seemed to drag on forever, Zac desperately trying to keep his head in the game and maybe overdoing it a little bit on the dramatics in order to keep himself distracted by the new stunt that he knew was coming up. This was one of the biggest stunts they'd ever attempted, save for the time when Taylor surprisingly succeeded in making an entire goat disappear and, in turn, misplacing the beast, only to find it wandering the carnival midway moments later. What could have been a detriment to their act was recovered quickly by Taylor's quick thinking, making the rowdy goat "reappear" after Zac had been sent to wrangle it up. Zac learned two valuable lessons that night--to always rehearse your new stunts and that goats aren't amused by travel via potato sack.
By the time Taylor pulled a cord that had been rigged to a black cloth designed to drop down and hide their new, large, wooden wheel, and he and Isaac had disappeared behind it, Zac was sweating bullets. He hadn't had near as much practice with the throwing, nor had the spent as much time being taught by the Native Americans as he should have. Okay, so maybe Taylor was right in his constant brooding. Maybe Zac was wrapped up in Bessie a little too much. Because now he had to come to terms with the fact that he was standing there, alone onstage, with nothing but a black cloth and a spotlight, with absolutely no idea what he was doing.
His eyes darted around at the crowd, at faces that he found were growing alarmingly bored. The nearby music was only barely covering the knocking and the grunting behind the curtain and Zac had no idea what he was supposed to be doing to fill the time. They'd ironed out every single detail except for that very important one. Looking out at the crowd once more, spying the faces of the many pretty, young women, he remembered what had been making them money for the past couple of weeks. And since they'd come to see him--and he had a couple of minutes to spare--he might as well have gotten ready for the main event.
Turning his back, he fiddled with the button on his coat and peeled the black shield off of his shoulders, sliding it down his arms, and tossing it to the side of the stage, the breeze instantly feeling like heaven against his bare arms. He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, making sure they wrapped comfortably around his biceps, and he followed up by removing his vest, stripping down his suspenders, and unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt. As much as he wasn't a fan of the reasoning behind their new "show attire," he had to admit, he felt incredible, as he'd always hated being restricted in the penguin costumes the brothers had become associated with.
By the time he removed his cap and shook his hair out onto his shoulders, he could hear the gasps and he swore he heard one woman near the front mutter, "Good lord," and he couldn't help smirking to himself. Negative or positive attention, either way...superficially, Zac knew how big his tip would be from her, at least. And if they were performing in a bankrupt park against an acrobat on a ladder, well then a man had to do what a man had to do. If all it took was getting a little comfortable, and feeling better in the process, then so be it.
Smiling, he turned and faced the crowd and threw his hands up in the air with a shrug. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, here I am. This is me. Obviously, I'm not the costume manager in this group."
The crowd chuckled lightly as Zac ran his hand through his hair.
"This next act, though," he continued. "It's something to see, I'll tell you. Once you see it, you'll understand why I had to...disrobe," he finished with a naughty smirk and a sly arch of his eyebrow. His eyes landed directly on a young, college-aged girl and he swore he watched her melt on impact.
Before he could do anymore flirting, however, the black curtain flew up, probably much faster than Taylor had intended, and the spotlight that had shone on Zac suddenly doubled and landed directly on the large, wooden wheel.
Perched up on its stand, erected in its full glory, the wheel was much larger than Zac had anticipated. No wonder they sounded like they were having so much trouble with it behind the curtain. As the crowd gasped, Isaac beamed as he twirled a lock of the dummy's hair between his fingertips. "She's a looker, ain't she?" He announced proudly. Then he gave the wheel a good, violent spin, sending the crowd into a light frenzy. "This lovely lady, here, is Myrtle," Isaac announced, his volume rising. The dummy spun with the wheel as she lay strapped to it, her hair and her dress hanging all over the place, and Zac wasn't sure if he wanted to be sick from performance nerves or from possible prop malfunctioning. "She isn't much for conversation," Isaac continued. Then he laid his hand aside his mouth. "And she isn't much in the sack, either, if you know what I mean." This garnered a roar from the men and a chuckle from the emcee himself. "So we figured, what the hell? Only thing she's good for is strapping her up and using her for target practice!"
The crowd bellowed with laughter and for the first time, Zac was a little nervous about how far Isaac might take his jokes. The Incredible Hansons weren't known for being inappropriate. Easy on the eyes, sure. Maybe a little daring, maybe a little off-the-cuff. But never inappropriate. And right now, Isaac was riding the line.
Just in the nick of time, however, he got right down to business as he sauntered to the front of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've come to our show on a very important night. For tonight, The Incredible Hansons debut, for the first time, something truly incredible. Something unlike anything we've ever done before. Something so dangerous and so savage that--well, that when we decided to do it, we could only think of one of us who was perfect for the daunting task. And our baby brother, here, Zachary, well--he's just damn crazy enough to be perfect for it! And now, without further ado, prepare to witness the skill and the brute strength of a very unpredictable young man! This act is not for the faint of heart, the light of stomach, or the weak-minded! So, children, stay close to mother! Scream to your daddy! Pray that Myrtle comes out of this...alive!"
With that, Isaac made his dramatic exit, taking his place feet away from the side of the wheel in front of Zac. Zac's knees trembled and his palms sweated as Taylor came to his side and peeled the cloth off of the enormous knives that lay on a table next to Zac. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you please," Taylor announced. "Zachary will need complete and total silence during this act!"
You could have heard a pin drop on the grassy floor underneath the ten-in-one.
Zac gripped the handle of the first knife and bore his eyes into dummy. His eyes darted around at the colored wood peeking around underneath her and he fought to remember what the Native American chief had taught him. Then he released his grip and pinched the knife between his fingers--thumb on the center of one side and his first three fingers on the other. Looking back up at the target before him, he let out a breath, loosened up his shoulders, and then he threw, snapping his wrist and opening his hand to let go.
The crowd gasped as the knife landed near the outer edge of the wheel. Shit! He was already starting in the wrong direction!
No matter. It was his first time. At least he didn't hit her. His goal was to only get close to her, so at least he didn't hit her and at least he didn't miss the wheel completely. Worse things had happened.
A little more confident now that his first throw was officially out of the way, Zac gripped the second knife with a little more fervor. This throw pinned her hair against the wood. Okay, okay. That time, he came a little too close. But he still hadn't hurt her, so he decided he was doing good.
Then he made the mistake of turning around and looking into the crowd. He watched the women clutch their purses with nerves and their husbands smirked skeptically. Then his mind went to Bessie. Would she even want him doing anything like this at all? What would she think of their fake, female target? Would she disapprove? Would she think it was disrespectful? Would it scare her? Would she think that he secretly wanted to throw knives at her? Why had he never thought of this?
Because thinking of it was his demise. It was his downfall. And the one time he allowed his mind to wander off track, just for a second, the entire act was thrown. It was a wash when the third knife sank deep into the dummy's leg and meal poured out all over the stage.
They knew this could happen. They knew it was a possibility, that's why Taylor had made her body out of sacks of meal. But it wasn't any less devastating and Zac's heart sank with hatred for himself for being the failure that he always knew he was. All of a sudden, he was a joke. Members of the crowd were beginning to leave and Zac had no idea what to do to recover. They hadn't planned for that, either.
Hastily, and seemingly out of nowhere, Taylor stormed across the stage and violently untied the dummy, jerking her off the wheel and tossing her across the stage. And then, to Zac's horror, he peeled off his own vest and jacket and stepped onto the pegs of the wheel, pressing his back against the multi-colored wood and jerked his head over to Isaac. "Strap me up," he demanded.
"Tay, are you crazy?" Isaac hissed.
"Do it!"
Without further question, and Zac's entire body trembling with fear, Taylor smiled triumphantly at the crowd as Isaac busied himself with tying his brother's wrists to the pegs and removing the stray knife Zac had thrown. "Well, then," Taylor announced. "I think that was a successful warm-up round, don't you?"
The crowd murmured and Zac took one more look to find that instead of thinning, it was actually thickening. It didn't matter now, though. Zac didn't care about the crowd. He didn't care about the money, he didn't care about anything. This was beyond the craziest thing Taylor had ever attempted to do--even crazier than proposing marriage to Aishe.
"Tay," Zac hissed across the stage. "I'm not throwing knives at you. You can forget it!"
"Do it!" Taylor urged. "It's okay. You're my brother. I know you won't hurt me. I trust you."
Zac stood there and looked into his older brother's earnest, trusting eyes and he knew right then that whatever feud they'd been having was over. If Taylor could trust Zac this much, to literally lay his life right there in his hands, Zac knew he'd never lost his best friend. And he knew he could never hurt his brother.
Didn't mean he was any less afraid, though. As Taylor lay strapped up against the wheel, staring a hole into Zac, Zac's knees shook and his palms grew damp. Sweat soaked the hair around his hairline and he raised his wrist to wipe it off his brow before it dripped down into his eyes. His breathing thickened and he was beginning to have a hard time focusing.
"Come on, Zac," Taylor encouraged him. "You've got this. I'm not afraid of you. Look, I'm not even shaking. Come on."
Zac glanced at the table beside him, at the throwing knives that gleamed under the spotlight. He squeezed his eyes shut to rid himself of the visual of the possible mortal mistakes he could potentially make. No. No, he couldn't. There was no room for error. There was no trying, there were no what-ifs. There was only success. There was no other option. There was no room for failure.
Taking a deep breath and shaking the hair out of his face, Zac took a knife in his hand. As Taylor nodded in encouragement, Zac never took his eyes off of his. Rubbing his fingers against the cool, smooth handle, Zac shook out his joints once more. And then...
He threw.
He threw so hard that the thunking sound that the blade made as it sunk deep into the wood was deafening in the tense silence that filled the ten-in-one. Momentarily, Zac was blinded as Taylor's eyes grew wide and he blinked as his Adam's apple actively slid around under the skin, swallowing hard in reaction to the throw. Once Zac snapped back, his eyes searched frantically for the knife and found it near the bottom, pinning the cuff of Taylor's pant leg against the wheel.
Holy shit, that was too close for comfort.
After finding a little clarity, a smile full of desperate relief spread across Taylor's face and he nodded. "That was great. Now go higher." He nodded his head back against the wood. "Up top."
The knife-throwing was the longest stunt Zac had ever participated in, though it only lasted several minutes, it felt like hours. Miraculously, the closest Zac ever got to Taylor was the pant leg pin. Zac missed a few times, but he didn't care. As long as he didn't hit Taylor, he didn't care where the knives went. He didn't care if the stunt failed miserably.
Once it was over, Zac was ready to kill Taylor for putting them in that position. There was no time for killing, however, because as soon as the crowd erupted into applause, Zac raced off the stage and out the back of the ten-in-one and vomited up everything he'd ingested in the entire day. Once he'd emptied his stomach and there was nothing left to heave, he stumbled several feet away and collapsed onto the cool grass.
He lay there, on his stomach, for what felt like the entire night. Neither of his brothers called him in for cleanup and he'd decided that he was done with the act for the night. Taylor and Isaac could throw knives at each other all night long if they wanted to, he didn't care. But Zac wasn't throwing anything anywhere close to anything that breathed ever again.
After awhile, he heard Taylor's voice carry over the grass from the back of the ten-in-one. "Zac! What are you doing out here?"
Zac's response was an incoherent murmur into the earth.
Coming closer, Zac could feel Taylor's strong hand as it grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. "Zac. You wouldn't believe the money we made just off that one show! Zac. There's a hundred dollars in the pot! At least! And that's not even counting ticket commission from Barney Harper! Why, if we do, what, at least three or four shows a day? We could come out of Coney Island with over two grand, just this week! And we haven't even made it to the city yet!"
Taylor had Zac's attention and he nearly ate the dirt underneath him as he turned his head to face him. "A hundred dollars?"
"Yes!"
"That's nearly double what we made in Boston and Philly."
"Double? That's nearly triple!"
"I'm not throwing anymore knives at you. That was stupid, Tay. It was fucking stupid."
"Then throw them at Ike, I don't care. We can alternate--"
"No. I'm not throwing knives at either one of you."
"But, Zac, that's where the money--"
"No. I'll throw knives all day long, but we will not put each other in harm's way like that. What you did was admirable, Tay, and I get why you did it, but it was stupid. And I need you to promise me you won't ever pull some stupid shit like that again."
"I can't promise that, Zac," Taylor whispered. "People loved it. It was a hit. I can't promise you."
With that, Zac's head collapsed back onto the ground. Leave it to Taylor, ever the showman, to declare that the show must go on--no matter the impaling risks required to make it happen.