THE SHOW MUST GO ON
To My Handsome Man,
I keep thinking about our telephone conversation over and over again.
It was so wonderful to get to hear your voice, but it upset me so to hear how miserable you sounded. I had no idea that you were hurting so much. I thought I had been overreacting in the time that you've been gone, but I suppose I didn't take into consideration that you might be hurting as much as I am.
I didn't sleep for the rest of the night after your telephone call. I cried for you. I cried and I prayed that you were all right. I want you to be happy. I want you to do what you love and travel the world and not have to worry about whether I'll be here for you or not. Because I always will be. I am so proud of you and so happy to call you mine. I love you forever, no matter what. You have me for always, you can't lose me.
Meanwhile, I must tell you that Billy came to visit me again. I'm not sure what to think of him anymore. He certainly seems nice, much nicer than he used to be, but I still don't believe I trust him, even an ounce. He seems to really like Sue Wilkerson, though, and thinks that I can help him win her affection, but what good am I at that, really? I never had a beau before you and Billy is much more experienced than I am when it comes to going on dates. For that matter, so are you. He told me he respects our relationship. Maybe he's grown up some and, when you come home, you can give him some advice on how he might win her. After all, you won me, didn't you? And I'm the scary judge's daughter!
I'm counting down the days until you're finally home and safe in my arms. I can't wait to kiss your soft lips and run my fingers through your hair. Please tell me you didn't cut your hair!
I have to end this letter now. I'm sitting under our tree and Scout has taken an interest in something that I should probably see about.
My Love Forever,
Bessie
TAYLOR HAD USED some of his hard-earned money to invest in a tripod.
Zac had spent the day fighting to recover from the previous night and struggling through rehearsals. The brothers never knew how much of a slave-driver Barney Harper actually was until they found themselves in the theatre. He barked orders at any and everyone who stood in his line of vision and he stomped around the theatre with a cigar hanging from his mouth and a clipboard glued to his hands. Zac found himself compelled to lend a hand to the poor stagehands, who stayed perpetually victimized by Harper’s wrath, but was instead pulled away by his brothers, who wanted to put the finishing touches on the knife-throwing act.
After several grueling hours of run-throughs and set fixes, the three brothers now stood, decked out in their new tuxedos, on the stage in front of the newly-finished backdrop and in front of Taylor’s camera that sat on its new tripod.
Zac felt like such a fool.
Everyone involved in the show stood around and watched the entire photo opportunity take place and it was all he could do to keep from walking completely out of the theatre. Taylor had even recruited Climbin’ Claude to press the button once he had the camera set to his liking.
It was bad enough that they were having to walk around in these penguin suits to begin with. Admittedly, Zac had begun to grow accustomed to the casual dress that he’d fought Taylor so hard on in the beginning. Now he longed to release his neck from the high collar and his sweaty hands from the white gloves. His hair was slicked back into a low ponytail and his top hat matched both of his brothers’. His chest tightened when he was suddenly reminded of the way Bessie preferred him—as nothing less than himself, unbuttoned and disheveled. And he realized that the man standing in the tuxedo and top hat now was just a ghost of the man he used to be—and in no way was the man he was now.
Shifting his weight uncomfortably as Taylor adjusted the camera in front of them, Zac murmured to Isaac, “I don’t understand the point of this.”
“Tay says he’s going to develop the film and sell photos of us in the lobby to help get the word out. He thinks it will help sell tickets.”
Zac furrowed his brow, confused. “Yeah, but…the people buying the photographs have already bought tickets if they’re buying photographs in the lobby.”
Isaac opened his mouth to speak and then he hesitated. Then he shook his head. “Look, I don’t know. I’d just rather let him do what he wants to do so we don’t have to watch him mope all day. Look at him, he’s smiling like a kid on Christmas.”
Zac grunted inaudibly as Taylor rushed back to them so that they could pose for the photograph. Climbin’ Claude was much too happy to have been recruited into the process and Zac hated the way everyone else stared. They were having their photograph taken. Hadn’t anyone ever had their photograph taken before?
Speaking of, that ended up turning into a frenzy, as everyone decided they wanted their photographs taken, as well. This put Taylor in the unexpected position to oblige, as he was too nice to deny them, and provided Zac with a perfect opportunity to go find a chair backstage and catch a quick nap.
Unfortunately, sleep eluded him. Once he had a moment to sit and clear his mind of the day’s hustle and bustle, the hazy memories of the previous night came flooding back. The day had been so busy that it already felt like it happened a lifetime ago as opposed to mere hours and he winced at the reminder. It hadn’t been his finest moment. He was ashamed of himself for all of it. For everything. He couldn’t even bask in the relief of hearing Bessie’s voice for the circumstances it had fallen under. Had he hit rock bottom last night? Had that been it? He’d gotten drunk, found himself in a burlesque club, blaspheming Bessie’s good name in a stag film theatre, and then phoned her collect from a payphone, racking up charges that he didn’t even want to attempt to estimate. All so that, after a month, he could blubber into the telephone like a big baby while Bessie had to be strong and talk him down. Jesus. He could only imagine what the telephone call must have done to her. What had he been thinking, waking her up in the middle of the night and throwing her into a situation like that? His goal had been for her to not worry about him. And now, knowing her, she was probably sick with worry over him and she needn’t be. Her words of encouragement truly spoke to him, what little bit he could piece together. He’d fought so hard to heed them and abide by them and finally stand tall and be the man she was proud of. He was one-third of The Incredible Hansons, after all, as she’d reminded him. Her words swam around in his mind in the sweet voice he had missed for so long: ‘You are great.’ ‘You are talented.’ ‘I love you.’
For Bessie. He would do this for Bessie. He would be his best for Bessie. And then he could go home to her.
Foregoing the nap that he was sure he could have used, he stood up, straightened his collar, ran his hand over his hair, and replaced the top hat on his head. He strode out onto the stage, in the middle of Taylor’s latest photography session, and he smiled at him. “What can I do to help you speed this along?”
* * *
Now that the Hansons were standing onstage in front of a packed house, Zac wasn’t so sure he wanted anything sped along, after all. As Isaac proudly ran through their introduction, they stood surrounded by their own props in front of a silk, champagne-colored draped backdrop. Three different tables, one for each brother, were strategically placed according to the level of trick they would perform. Isaac stuck to the smaller tricks such as cards and paper, Zac focused mainly on hat and wand tricks, and Taylor, who was the group’s main illusionist, was situated in the middle so that his more elaborate disappearing acts could be better seen by the audience.
In front of them, the audience peered up at them, dressed in their best evening attire. Zac couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many tuxedos and beads that glinted against the stage lights, especially in a vaudeville theatre. Apparently, in New York City, you used any excuse to dress up and go to the theatre, no matter the show. It almost felt like being back in the old days, performing in Las Vegas or Hollywood. And this caused Zac to stand a little straighter and raise his chin a little higher.
Once Isaac had ended his monologue, a nod toward the curtain cued the band to start up as the brothers took their places and fell into their same, daily routine, each brother making the effort to put forth the extra one hundred and fifty percent. Zac couldn’t help enjoying himself, his cheeks hurting from his smile as he participated in the endless staged banter with his brothers. The audience laughed, the tricks were performed to perfection, and there was no way the night could have possibly gone any better.
Zac wished Bessie could have been there to see it.
When it was finally time to wrap it up, Isaac began his ending monologue, thanking the audience for coming out, reminding them to encourage their friends to come out that week, and then introducing “one of the most daring acts The Incredible Hansons have ever performed.” As he spoke, stagehands came from nowhere, seemingly, littering the stage by removing props and removing Zac’s own clothing until he was down to nothing but his trousers and white button-down shirt. As he rolled the cuffs up off of his wrists, he watched six stagehands wheel out three extra-large sheets of plywood and position them around the stage so as to block any of the fine backdrop in case he missed the wheel, a notion which he silently scoffed at. Taylor had disappeared backstage to help with the arrangement of the dummy on the wheel, who they’d made sure looked her best tonight and, as he waited for the prop to be wheeled out, Zac made a show of dramatically examining the knives on the table set up for him.
They’d decided that Zac would pause and give a brief, comical description of each knife just to leave the audience in suspense for a little while longer before he began the act. He enjoyed putting on the show a little too much, feeling a fresh rush of adrenaline every time laughter filled his ears. When he had lain the last knife back down on the white towel, a gasp of horror rang out through the auditorium which caused Zac to break character and furrow his brow at them in confusion. What had he said? They’d laughed, hadn’t they? He was pretty sure they had…
Staring out into the audience, his eyes landed on those of a middle-aged woman in the front row, as they were fixated not on him, but on something behind him. His eyes darted around to other audience members within his line of vision and found all pairs of eyes focused the same way. And that was all it took for Zac to whip his entire body around to investigate what they had found so intriguingly…horrific.
Zac didn’t know which emotion he wanted to feel first. He wanted to vomit, the memory of emptying the contents of his stomach the last time this had happened feeling like it had been just yesterday. At the same time, he felt the heat rise in his face and all the way to his ears as the rage threatened to explode from him, not caring where they were or what they were doing. Sweat broke almost profusely along his brow and he was pretty sure his palms were dripping sweat onto the stage. He glanced over at Isaac, who returned the glance with his own surprised expression, and then they both turned their attention back to Taylor.
Taylor, who was strapped to the wheel and grinning like a loon.
Zac wanted to take his head off. Right there in front of God and everybody, he wanted storm right up to that wheel and beat his older brother to a bloody pulp for being the incredible moron that he was. Yes. That was it. Taylor wasn’t an Incredible Hanson. He was an Incredible Moron.
And then he turned around and glanced at the audience again and he remembered where he was. He remembered Bessie’s words and he remembered that he just had to get through the week before he could be on his way home to her. The longer he dragged this out, the longer it would be until tomorrow…and the next day and the day after that.
After all, the show must go on.
Taylor would certainly get what was coming to him, that was for sure. Right after Zac concentrated with all his might to not hit his brother in front of a sold out theatre.
As Isaac called for lights, the spotlights shown on Zac and on Taylor on the wheel and for what felt like the next lifetime, there was nobody else on Earth but the two of them.
BESSIE SLEPT UNTIL well after lunch. She knew this from the way the sun shone through her window and the way her stomach twisted and growled. She was surprised her parents hadn’t tried to wake her, but then she wondered if her father had taken the telephone call at three in the morning into consideration and let her sleep.
Sleep. Sure, she had slept. She finally dozed off three hours after she’d hung up the telephone with Zac and let her mind race and wander until the morning sun rose. She tossed and she turned, but she mostly lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with her conversation with Zac.
On one hand, she was thrilled to have been able to hear his voice, despite the complications in the connection. But the way he cried, the way he sounded so…desperate and pitiful. The last time she’d heard him sound anything like that was the night he’d told her about his mother. He’d been so upset and he’d clung to her for support, much like he seemed to have over the telephone. She was glad that she was able to keep it together and be strong for him, something that had completely surprised her. Maybe she had grown in the month that he’d been gone. Maybe she had matured, maybe she had finally become a woman that he could be proud to marry, someone who could take care of him and…and be able to handle the times that he had to leave town for work.
Could she? Could she handle more of that?
She had told him, in the last telegram that she’d sent him, that college life wasn’t for her. And the more she thought about it, the more that she decided it wasn’t. Did she really want to be an art teacher? Was that what she saw herself doing while married to Zac? If she was a teacher, how could she travel with him if the brothers were called upon to do another tour like this one, maybe even a longer one? She couldn’t do that. No. No, what she needed to do was support Zac. They would face whatever they had to face together, whether it was traveling or starting a life in Tulsa, but she was useless to him if she was two hours away, wiling away the hours in a classroom somewhere while he was back home, putting in all the hard work. That wasn’t fair and that wasn’t being a supportive girlfriend, fiancée, or wife, whatever she ended up being when the time came. Bessie needed to be with him. She needed to massage him when his back ached, to run her fingers through his hair when he was restless, to make him dinner and kiss his forehead and assure him that everything was going to be okay after an exceptionally hard day. Yes, that was her place in life. To be his, and only his.
She wished she could have been there last night. He needed her and she couldn’t get to him. That would never happen again. Once he came home, he would never find himself in a position where he needed her and she couldn’t get to him. Why, if she had been there, he wouldn’t have gone out and gotten drunk and upset like that in the first place. If she had been there, he would have gotten a good night’s rest without a worry in the world. You know what would have been just swell? If she could convince her father to give her money for an airplane ride to the city to be with Zac. They were coming home in a week, anyway, weren’t they? Wouldn’t Zac have been so surprised? They would have been happy and they wouldn’t have to miss each other anymore. How long would it take to fly to New York, anyway…?
She tried to use the fantasy to lull herself to sleep, but it ended up being tears that did it in the end. She couldn’t find it in herself to let the tears fall over the telephone with Zac being as upset as he was, as much as his despair broke her heart, but after she’d exhausted herself with the millions of thoughts as she lay in bed, she finally succumbed to her tears until she fell asleep.
But now, though, the sun shone bright and warm into her bedroom and her head was beginning to ache from the heat under her covers, combined with her ravenous hunger and her irregular sleep pattern.
It was physically difficult to pull herself out of bed, but she gradually began to feel human again with each step that she took. In the washroom, she washed up and pinned her hair listlessly on top of her head since she knew she was likely going right back to bed in a few hours, anyway. She pulled on an old, brown day dress that served merely as something to cover her body, and she didn’t even bother with stockings. The only reason she put shoes on was because her mother felt it was an abomination for a woman to walk around in her bare feet unless she was bathing or headed to bed. And even then she should be in her house shoes. More or less, a woman should never be without shoes and Bessie wasn’t in the mood for the lecture.
Looking at her face in the mirror, she realized how frightful she looked. Her eyes sagged and her cheeks lacked color and she decided that she probably ought to work on some sort of facial regimen for the week so that she didn’t look like that when Zac came home. It wasn’t that she cared what she looked like today, however, but she gave in anyway and splashed some water on her face and pinched her cheeks until they blushed. That would have to do, she decided. Anything else beyond that was pointless.
Finally, she meandered downstairs to the smells of lunch wafting from the kitchen and her stomach growled in response. With a little more pep in her step, headed for the sounds of her mother milling around, she rounded the bottom of the staircase and was halted at the sound of the knocking on the front door.
Her breath caught in her throat momentarily as she considered who might be there. Could it be? No, surely not. But, then again…
It took her two long strides to leap to the door and, when she answered it, her heart sank into her chest. She wasn’t sure what she thought she was expecting, honestly. She knew that it was near impossible for Zac to have come back home in less than twelve hours. Why she’d constantly allowed her hopes to rise like that lately, she didn’t know.
“Oh,” she muttered, not bothering to feign her disappointment. “Hi, Billy.”
Billy Connors stood on the porch of the farmhouse, the picture of an overcast sky now hiding the sun in the background behind him. Bessie couldn’t help but notice the fitting symbolism.
His smile contrasted the clouds, unfortunately, and Bessie hated how handsome he was. She hated even more that she’d noticed. She hated his long lashes and his perfect teeth. She hated his pristine shirt and trousers and she hated how his nearly black hair was combed over without a single strand out of place. Oh, how she missed the glimpses of Zac’s chest through his unruly shirts and the long, brown locks that fell to his shoulders.
Billy would never be Zac. He couldn’t even compare. Not in a million years.
“Hey, Bessie,” he greeted her. “You look really pretty.”
Bessie scrunched her nose up. She looked far from pretty and she knew it. She hadn’t fixed her hair beyond a poorly-pinned mess above her shoulders, she certainly wasn’t in her best dress, and she knew her eyes were still puffy from sleep, despite her attempt to rectify the issue in the washroom sink.
“You don’t have to lie, Billy,” she deadpanned. “It isn’t becoming of you. And girls don’t like it.”
“But I’m not…I’m not lying,” he stammered. “There’s something to be said for a girl whose hair isn’t perfect. It builds character. Means she’s not boring.”
Bessie stared back at Billy in disbelief. “Well, that’s not…that’s not something I would expect you to say.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…I thought your type was more like the pretty, petite, pristine type. The most modern of clothes, not a hair out of place…”
“Well, that’s not very fair. I like all kinds of girls. Why, I even liked you, didn’t I?”
His words stopped Bessie cold and her own reaction took her by surprise. Liked her? Past tense? Admittedly, the statement stung her a little and she felt ashamed for it. She couldn’t deny that the attention was flattering—and that was a confession that she would take to her grave. After all, what young woman didn’t want to be desired by handsome boys—even if some of them were jerks? So he had liked her before, but he didn’t now? What had happened? What had changed? Was she no longer interesting? Had she been interesting to begin with?
Bessie opened her mouth to speak and then she closed it again. She had just been about to comment on his past tense usage before she thought better of it. It was no big prize to be liked by Billy Connors and, besides, it didn’t matter, anyway, because she had a beau that she loved very much and wouldn’t trade for the world. Her pitiful ego would just have to take the hit and bear it, she supposed.
“What are you doing here, Billy?”
“Well, you said you were going to help me with Sue Wilkerson, remember?”
Oh, yeah. That was right. He didn’t like Bessie because he liked Sue Wilkerson. This reminder caused Bessie to calm and let her guard down a little. “I thought you said she has a boyfriend?”
“For now,” he said with raised eyebrows. “She won’t forever.”
Bessie scoffed. “You don’t know that.”
“Either way, I just need to be prepared when it happens.”
“You know…Billy…I had a really rough night last night…”
“Care to talk about it?”
Bessie’s eyes widened in shock. Had he actually said that? Billy Connors wanted to talk about something other than himself? Billy Connors was willing to listen? Billy Connors…cared?
Then she wised up. No. All this was, was for Billy to find out more information that he could potentially use against Zac. And, besides, her relationship was none of his business, anyway.
“I’d really rather not, if you don’t mind,” she replied.
For a split second, his face fell. Then he recovered with annoying grace. “Well, I wouldn’t mind listening if you ever needed to get anything off your chest.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured.
“Bessie!” Her mother’s voice rang out. “Oh, good, you’ve finally woken up. I was going to make some—“ Her voice fell silent and turned to a smile as she joined Bessie on the doorstep. “Why, Billy. What a surprise.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Harlow,” Billy smiled. “You’re looking lovely as ever.”
Her mother blushed and reached up to adjust her hair. “Why, thank you, Billy, you’re much too kind. So what brings you here today?”
“I came to visit with Bessie,” he replied, the smile never leaving his face. “I hoped she might want to go for a walk or maybe sit by the river—“
“I don’t feel much like swimming,” Bessie interjected.
Billy chuckled. “Well, I didn’t bring a swimsuit, so we wouldn’t be doing much swimming, anyway.”
Just as Bessie was about to turn down both offers, her mother opened her big mouth. “Why, that just sounds lovely. And I know Bessie could use the fresh air. Say, would you like a bite of lunch before you go?”
“That sounds terrific,” Billy beamed.
Bessie was in hell.
“You know what, Mama? You’re right, I could use the fresh air. Maybe I’ll go sit by the river, after all.”
She turned her back to Billy in order to lock eyes with her mother, praying that she would be able to read her pleading expression to please stop the invitations. Was her mother feeling well? Had she lost her mind? This was Billy, troublemaker extraordinaire. Billy, who hated her daughter’s beau and orchestrated the vandalism of Mr. Anderson’s store. Well, the second part couldn’t be proven, but the first part was definitely no secret.
But her mother didn’t seem to register the silent pleading. “Oh, well, then I can send your lunch to go. It’s a lovely day for a picnic!”
“Mrs. Harlow, that sounds swell!” Billy exclaimed. “Thank you.”
“Mama!” Bessie hissed.
But she had already turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.
Turning on her own heel, Bessie spun around and faced Billy’s gooney grin with a glare. “This is not a date. It is not a lunch date, it is not a river date, it is not any sort of date. And word better not get around that it is. I have a beau. Are we understood?”
“Like you’d let me forget,” he muttered. Then his voice brightened. “It’s just lunch between friends, right? No harm in that.”
“No…” she mused warily. “I suppose not…”
Except that there was. There was dire harm in going anywhere with Billy Connors and she had no qualms about leaving him standing on the doorstep while she marched to the kitchen to inform her mother of how grossly inappropriate the position she’d forced her into was.
“I’M NOT SURE I feel much like going to the river,” Bessie said as she sat in the passenger seat of Billy’s 1932 Ford Model 18. She clutched the picnic basket her mother had sent tightly in her lap and faced forward, her expression stoic.
Billy knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But, damn it, he feared that he was running out of time and the girl was as stubborn as a mule. Safest way to go, he determined, was to let her feel like she was calling the shots for a while. So, he replied with, “We don’t have to go to the river. We can go anywhere you want.”
He hid his disappointment. It was a hot, sunny day, and he knew that the river was probably one of the most populated places he could have taken her to. The more he could be seen with her in public, the better, he determined. Because then people would start to talk. And when people began to talk in Tulsa, word spread like wildfire. By the time Zac Hanson came home, the entire town would be a’ buzz.
He shook off the smile that was forming on his lips when he heard her murmur a near inaudible, “I don’t know.” The truth was, he didn’t have the patience to wait for her to come up with a reply, nor did he have the patience to drive aimlessly down this dirt road. And, so, he made the quick decision to veer off the side of the road and turn off the ignition.
Bessie’s eyes widened as she glanced at him and then turned to look out the window. There wasn’t anything to see, really. Except for the plains of green along the edge of the woods on the side of the road. Several feet away, the area was fenced off and there were some horses grazing in the distance.
“Why are we stopping?” She asked.
“I figured here is as good a place as any to picnic.”
“But this is someone’s farm!”
“No,” he corrected her. The he pointed behind her. “That is someone’s farm. On this side of the fence, it’s public property. And, honestly, that tree over there looks mighty tempting to sit under to escape all this heat.”
She turned her head to look at him and there was a pain in her eyes that he chose to ignore. He didn’t know what to do with such emotions so he pretended like he didn’t notice. It was safer that way.
“We can sit and watch the horses graze while we eat,” he continued. Then he smiled. “Hey, maybe one might come our way.”
“They probably don’t even know we’re here,” she muttered.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he attempted to be a gentleman and open the car’s door for her, but she beat him to it. Then he wished he could figure out a way to get one of the horses to come to the fence for him. That would sure wow her. Maybe if he saw that he had a way with animals, it would sway her opinion in his favor a little more.
But for now, he followed her to the tree and he sat beside her as she wordlessly spread the picnic out on the ground in front of them. Mrs. Harlow had packed quite a spread, complete with fried chicken, tomatoes, pickles, fresh fruit, and oatmeal cookies. “I made the cookies myself, yesterday,” Bessie said, pouring lemonade from a thermos. “Scout loves them.”
“Scout?” He asked as he shoved a cookie into his mouth. The oatmeal melted on his tongue and he closed his eyes with pleasure for a moment. Then he opened them and realized that he should probably make sure to be a little more formal with his eating. He wasn’t dining with the fellas, after all.
“My dog,” she replied. “Our dog, mine and Zac’s.”
“You and Zac have a dog?”
“Mmhmm,” she murmured.
She was silent as she nibbled on a piece of fruit, her eyes gazing out at the horses, her mind seemingly miles away. A feeling came over Billy as he watched her, an emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He wasn’t even sure how to describe it. Uncomfortable was a good word. Was he concerned? Were his feeling hurt because he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Bessie would rather be anywhere than in his presence? He knew that, going in, he knew how she felt about him. However, given the plan he thought he had, he knew he shouldn’t be having any of these thoughts or feeling any of these feelings. Compassion! Maybe that was it. Maybe he felt guilty for intruding on her life where he knew he wasn’t wanted. Maybe he really was concerned for her well-being.
Maybe Zac Hanson still had a debt to pay for Billy’s dead football career.
And maybe Bessie Harlow was the payoff.
He huffed a silent breath and puffed his chest out a little, getting himself back together again. He could, at least, try to like her. Maybe the more real his feelings came across, the more apt she was to respond to them.
“So,” she said, breaking the silence and jerking him out of his trance. “Sue Wilkerson. Why me?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you so convinced that I’m ‘the only person in the world’ who can help you woo her? A girl who has a boyfriend, mind you.”
“Oh!” He laughed sheepishly. “Well, because I’m inclined to think that you’re a lot like her. Good, sweet, a little innocent…and liked by a guy who’s known to have…a bit of a questionable reputation.”
Finally, she turned to look at him, the first sign of any type of emotion he’d seen since she’d answered her door. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows raised. “A questionable reputation?”
“Ah, come on,” he replied, his head hanging as he adjusted the food around his plate. “You know as well as I do that most people around here think I’m a bully.”
Her expression of incredulousness never left him. “Well, Billy, it’s because you are one.”
Suddenly, he felt defensive and his eyes darted into hers. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are. You bully everyone you come in contact with. You did it all through school, too. And even now, as an adult, you’re a big bully. You bullied Zac, you bullied me, you bully everyone! Adult men shouldn’t be bullies. It makes you immature and undesirable and it’s no wonder Sue Wilkerson won’t look at you twice.”
“Hey,” he barked. “I never said she wouldn’t look at me twice. And I’m desired by many girls and you know it.”
“Yes, but how many of them actually stick around?”
Billy was struck dumb by the question. It caused him to stop and think, quickly reviewing his past relationships in his head. He supposed he did go through girlfriends rather quickly. But he liked girls and they liked him, what could he say? Though, thinking about it, when was the last time he actually broke up with one? The realization struck him in the chest.
He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and he was forced to look at the girl and ask a question he wouldn’t have ever thought to take into consideration. “Um, are you, um, are you saying that girls don’t like me?”
“I’m saying that it pays to be nice,” she replied, picking up a chicken leg. “And to mind your own business.”
“Mind my own business? What does that mean?”
“It means you wouldn’t be much of a bully if you just let people be and not picked on them for no reason. Be nice, mind your own business, be honest with your feelings. And then the girls would come flocking to you.”
“But they already do flock to me…”
“Because you’re cute. That’s about the only thing you have going for you.”
He should have been taken aback and offended by her complete bluntness. But instead, he couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. “You think I’m cute?”
Bessie rolled her eyes and shook her head as she picked the skin off of her chicken. “You’re attractive. I have a beau, I’m not blind. And, anyway, your personality ruins the whole deal.”
Finally, he tossed his own chicken leg down onto his plate. “Bessie. Am I really that bad of a person?”
“Yes.”
They were silent after that. For the next few minutes, Billy chewed his food and contemplated Bessie’s words. He couldn’t even enjoy Mrs. Harlow’s delicious cooking for the thoughts that ran through his head. He and Bessie had never really associated that much outside of dinner with each other’s parents before the social came along. And if that was the way she saw him, did that mean the rest of Tulsa really saw him that way, too?
To be fair, he had said a couple of things to her while inebriated that might cause her to feel that way about him. In hindsight, the brutal honesty was, he deserved what Zac gave to him, dirty gypsy or not. But he didn’t have to take it as far as he had and kick Billy while he was down. It was bad enough he had taken the blow to the nose in the first place. Kicking him while he was down made it personal. Breaking his ribs made Billy ruthless.
But did that make him a bully? Retaliating after being wronged? That wasn’t bullying. That was restitution. And, to date, he had yet to get restitution for the wrongdoing because the dirty gypsy kept finding a way to keep the entire town on his side, it seemed. Or maybe it was his good-for-nothing flunkies that kept messing everything up. They couldn’t even trash a store right and make it look like an inside job. So, no. It wasn’t bullying. It was justice.
And then there was Joey Martin. That was justice, too. Because if he had kept his mouth shut and not gone squealing to the cops, Billy wouldn’t have had to interrupt him on his whatever-you-call-it with Millie Jennings at the river and issue the threat he had issued. It appeared that Joey, like Zac, needed to be taught a lesson about minding his own business.
So, there. Bessie’s argument was a failure because the truth was, those guys were meddling in Billy’s business and not the other way around. If anything, by Bessie’s definition, Zac and Joey were the bullies because they couldn’t mind their own business. Billy was the victim here. Couldn’t anyone see that?
Bessie couldn’t. And, unfortunately, if Billy was going to get what he wanted, he had to humor her. Once he’d gotten done what he needed to get done, he’d set the girl straight.
Interrupting his thoughts once again, Bessie sighed. “I suppose I’m not being entirely fair to you. After all, you did apologize to me and…well, you would have apologized to Zac if he was here. And—“ She paused and she looked at him. “About the police station. I have to tell you—“
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he cut her off. This was certainly the way that he didn’t need the conversation to go. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“You—you do?”
“Yeah,” he waved her off. “Yeah, it’s—I’m not blaming you for any of that.” Then his face fell as he reached over and picked at some grass beside him. “So, uh, you think if Zac was here he would…accept my apology? You know, for the social and all? I said some really rude things…”
“Um,” Bessie cleared her throat and she screwed up her face in thought. “Um, Zac, um…I think he could learn to. Maybe.”
“He hates me, doesn’t he?”
“You’re certainly not his favorite person in the world. But you knew that already.”
“Yeah. I suppose I couldn’t blame him. Hey, you think--? I mean, if I told him that I didn’t know you were already his girl—that’s the truth, honest.”
“I know. But sometimes with Zac it just…takes a little time. He’s a real ‘react first, think later’ type of person.”
“So he’d pummel me before the apology even left my mouth, then.”
“No…I mean, maybe not…”
“Bessie, is Zac…nice to you? I mean, what drew you to him?”
She looked him in the eye and she nodded. “Zac’s wonderful to me,” she replied earnestly.
“Well, yeah, but he’s so…so…”
“He is hot-tempered at times,” she admitted. “I mean, even you’ve seen that.” And then she gazed out over the farmland beyond them, a dreamy look in her eyes that made Billy’s stomach churn. “He’s the sweetest, most caring and attentive person I’ve ever met. I’m always safe when I’m with him, no matter what.” She paused and she sniffed, sweeping her finger quickly under her nose. “I miss him.”
Her tears weren’t lost on Billy, much as she tried to hold them in. Suddenly, he felt awkward. He never took into consideration that she might cry. He didn’t want her to cry. He never knew what to do when girls cried. So he attempted to change the subject when he said to her softly, “You know I’m not really a bad guy.”
She looked over at him, the tears still brimming her eyes. “I know. I know you’re not, you…you apologized to me and then you helped me at my party…”
“I only want to be your friend, Bessie. I want you to be able to trust me. You know?”
“I think if you showed this side of yourself to Sue, winning her would be a cinch.”
He smiled at her wryly. “Is that how Zac won you?”
“Zac gave me trick flowers and insulted my social class. I threw wildflowers in his face and kicked a picnic basket at him and then we fell in love.”
“Well,” he blinked out over the pasture. “That’s a story to tell your grandchildren.”
“Providing he comes home,” she deadpanned.
Billy’s heart leapt before his ears perked. He scowled at his body’s reaction. If Bessie sincerely believed that Zac was never coming home, then it was probably a safe bet that he wouldn’t. In which case, what was Billy doing here with her, anyway? If Zac didn’t come home, he didn’t need Bessie. He could get up right now and leave her here to walk home for all he cared.
Except that he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave her there. There was something else going on, something bothering her and, damn it, he didn’t feel right blowing her off even if she wasn’t any good to him anymore. Because the fact of the matter was, she was good to him, in every sense of the word. Better to him than any other girl had ever been. She was understanding and forgiving and compassionate—and damn if she didn’t grow just a little more beautiful every time he saw her.
Beautiful? Was she? With her mop of hair and her drab dress and her forlorn face? Had she grown from attractive to beautiful?
Say it wasn’t so.
So if Zac wasn’t coming home, why was she still hopelessly loyal to him?
“What makes you so sure Zac ain’t coming home?”
“Because he’s in New York City,” she sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve seen their act or not, but they’re immensely talented. And the city? All those lights and the people…why would they want to come home? I bet they’re making more money than we’ve ever even dreamed of right now.”
“Bessie,” Billy said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I hate to tell you this, but vaudeville is dead.”
She looked at him and she frowned. “But aren’t you the one who was so convinced that New York would keep them?”
Damn. He’d forgotten about that. “Well…well, sure, but facts are facts, Bess. If you’re not a talking picture star nowadays, you can pretty much forget about being famous. I’m sure he’ll be home.”
“Hm,” Bessie mused quietly. “My daddy thinks the same.”
“Your father’s a smart man,” Billy said, jumping on any opportunity he could get to slide a compliment in. “I’ve always respected him.”
Billy thought about the social and prayed that the statement wouldn’t come back to bite him. Thankfully, she sighed and she changed the subject.
“Zac telephoned me last night. In the middle of the night, in the wee hours of the morning.”
His eyes widened with surprise. He’d telephoned her? From New York City? Maybe he was making the kind of money she spoke of. Had they been speaking on a regular basis?
“It was the first time we’ve spoken since he left. Honestly, I never thought the telephone was ever an option. But he sounded simply horrible.” She looked at Billy, the pain in her eyes, and his own heart sank. “He’s miserable, Billy. He was drinking and he was crying and…and he wouldn’t want me telling you any of that, but it’s all I can think about!”
And, finally, she burst into tears. She wasn’t able to hold them back as they flowed down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. Drat. What did he do? Did he do what he was naturally compelled to do? Would it do more harm than good? At this point, did it matter? The girl was in distress. And, once again, that damn gypsy was the source of it.
Billy leaned his body over and pulled the judge’s daughter into his arms. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight him. Instead, she clung to his shirt with both her fists and she soaked his breast. As he wrapped his arms tighter around her, he scowled into the pasture where the horses grazed beyond them. He didn’t like the way this made the inside of his chest feel. And he didn’t like the way the gypsy constantly seemed to make her cry. He didn’t like it when she cried. And, so, that was just one more reason why Zac Hanson needed to be destroyed.
ONCE THE CURTAIN was down, Zac stormed backstage in search of his brother. He didn’t have to go far, as he stood there, just beyond the curtain, rubbing his wrists from having just been released from the wheel. By some miracle, Zac had managed to miss him, but not without cutting it dangerously close a few times. Now Zac was furious. Now he could let his anger go without the watchful eyes of any audience members or adoring public.
Unfortunately, Isaac must have seen this coming, because as soon as Zac got within a few short feet of Taylor, he stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. “Zac,” he warned.
This only fueled Zac’s fire and he attempted to push past his eldest brother to get to the other one. “Get out of my way, Ike. I’m going to make this quick and painless.”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Isaac said.
But Zac pushed past him, anyway, and stormed toward their brother. “What the fuck was that, Tay? Huh? What the fuck was that?”
And just as Zac lunged for him, Isaac held him back. “Don’t, Zac,” he said firmly.
“Let me at him!” Zac spat. “Let me do his pretty face in, just this once! Let me break his legs, maybe an arm or two. Just let me at him!”
Taylor looked at him, eyes wide with bewilderment. “Oh,” he scoffed. “So you won’t throw knives at me, but you’ll beat me to a bloody pulp and break my legs, is that it?”
“No,” Zac seethed through his teeth. “I’m going to kill you! Because if you have this incessant death wish, then at least this way, there won’t be witnesses and I won’t be locked up for your having been a moron!”
“You know what, this is getting ridiculous,” Taylor scoffed as he unbuttoned his cuffs. “Really, it is.”
“I told you, Tay! I told you I wouldn’t throw knives at either one of you ever again! How dare you put me on the spot like that? How could you do that to me?”
Finally, as Zac’s body was loosening from the tension, Isaac was letting up on his grip. The rage was subsiding and now Zac merely stood across from his brother.
“You saw that crowd,” Taylor replied with stars in his eyes. “You saw them, heard their reaction. They ate it up, Zac. They loved it! And now they’ll go tell all their friends about it! We’re gonna be a hit again!”
“Their friends are going to be sorely disappointed,” Zac spat. “Because you can rest assured that I’m not doing that shit again and you are not putting me on the spot like that again. Don’t you forget, I can improvise with the best of them. I will humiliate the shit out of you, you mark my words.”
“Come on,” Taylor smiled desperately. “You wouldn’t sabotage our act like that, would you?”
Zac took a couple of steps forward until he stopped nearly at Taylor’s nose. “What are you gonna do, Tay? Strapped up to that wheel like that? You can’t stop me. I can essentially do whatever I want during that act and you can’t do anything but lay up there and watch.” A smile crept across Zac’s face now. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? “Why, I could just stand there and spin you and spin you and let the audience count how many spins it takes for you to vomit. It’d get messy, I’m sure, but it would be entertaining, nonetheless.”
“Okay, Zac, look,” Taylor attempted to reason. “You’re right, okay? I should have cleared it with you first. Putting you on the spot like that on opening night was wrong of me. But would you have really gone for it if I’d approached you?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” Taylor threw up his hands. “Exactly my point. Zac, we can’t stand up here on this stage in a theatre like this in a city this big and expect to get by with throwing knives at cornmeal dummies. You got that? We’re in the big leagues now, just like we were before. We have the chance to start all over again. We have the chance to be…the next Harry Houdini!”
“Harry Houdini?” Zac declared, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve lost your ever-loving mind. Hell, at least Houdini got to die before vaudeville did!”
“Come on!” Taylor replied excitedly. “Harry Houdini got his start doing exactly what we’re doing now and look what he went on to accomplish!”
“We’ve been doing this for seven years now, Tay! It’s a little late for all that now!”
“It isn’t,” Taylor replied defensively. “You’ll see.”
Finally, Isaac stepped in and calmly put in his two cents. “Zac,” he said. “In some ways, Tay’s right. You really are good at the knife-throwing. Every night your aim gets better and better. I think if you spent a good lot of your days practicing, having Tay up on that wheel would cease to be an issue.”
Zac turned his head and he glared at him. “You realize that we have less than a week left here, right? That is no time for me to become any kind of expert in anything! But you know what? If this is what you guys want, then fine. You can throw knives and axes and shoot bullets and whatever else you want to do to each other all day long. But I want no part in throwing any type of projectiles at either one of you. If it’s going to continue to be like this, then consider this my resignation. The Incredible Hansons can continue on as a duo. Don’t be surprised if I take my cut of the dough and buy myself a plane ticket home. If you guys don’t see me for the rest of the night, you know where I am. Don’t come after me.”
And with that, Zac stormed out of the theatre, leaving the rest of The Incredible Hansons behind.
To My Handsome Man,
I keep thinking about our telephone conversation over and over again.
It was so wonderful to get to hear your voice, but it upset me so to hear how miserable you sounded. I had no idea that you were hurting so much. I thought I had been overreacting in the time that you've been gone, but I suppose I didn't take into consideration that you might be hurting as much as I am.
I didn't sleep for the rest of the night after your telephone call. I cried for you. I cried and I prayed that you were all right. I want you to be happy. I want you to do what you love and travel the world and not have to worry about whether I'll be here for you or not. Because I always will be. I am so proud of you and so happy to call you mine. I love you forever, no matter what. You have me for always, you can't lose me.
Meanwhile, I must tell you that Billy came to visit me again. I'm not sure what to think of him anymore. He certainly seems nice, much nicer than he used to be, but I still don't believe I trust him, even an ounce. He seems to really like Sue Wilkerson, though, and thinks that I can help him win her affection, but what good am I at that, really? I never had a beau before you and Billy is much more experienced than I am when it comes to going on dates. For that matter, so are you. He told me he respects our relationship. Maybe he's grown up some and, when you come home, you can give him some advice on how he might win her. After all, you won me, didn't you? And I'm the scary judge's daughter!
I'm counting down the days until you're finally home and safe in my arms. I can't wait to kiss your soft lips and run my fingers through your hair. Please tell me you didn't cut your hair!
I have to end this letter now. I'm sitting under our tree and Scout has taken an interest in something that I should probably see about.
My Love Forever,
Bessie
TAYLOR HAD USED some of his hard-earned money to invest in a tripod.
Zac had spent the day fighting to recover from the previous night and struggling through rehearsals. The brothers never knew how much of a slave-driver Barney Harper actually was until they found themselves in the theatre. He barked orders at any and everyone who stood in his line of vision and he stomped around the theatre with a cigar hanging from his mouth and a clipboard glued to his hands. Zac found himself compelled to lend a hand to the poor stagehands, who stayed perpetually victimized by Harper’s wrath, but was instead pulled away by his brothers, who wanted to put the finishing touches on the knife-throwing act.
After several grueling hours of run-throughs and set fixes, the three brothers now stood, decked out in their new tuxedos, on the stage in front of the newly-finished backdrop and in front of Taylor’s camera that sat on its new tripod.
Zac felt like such a fool.
Everyone involved in the show stood around and watched the entire photo opportunity take place and it was all he could do to keep from walking completely out of the theatre. Taylor had even recruited Climbin’ Claude to press the button once he had the camera set to his liking.
It was bad enough that they were having to walk around in these penguin suits to begin with. Admittedly, Zac had begun to grow accustomed to the casual dress that he’d fought Taylor so hard on in the beginning. Now he longed to release his neck from the high collar and his sweaty hands from the white gloves. His hair was slicked back into a low ponytail and his top hat matched both of his brothers’. His chest tightened when he was suddenly reminded of the way Bessie preferred him—as nothing less than himself, unbuttoned and disheveled. And he realized that the man standing in the tuxedo and top hat now was just a ghost of the man he used to be—and in no way was the man he was now.
Shifting his weight uncomfortably as Taylor adjusted the camera in front of them, Zac murmured to Isaac, “I don’t understand the point of this.”
“Tay says he’s going to develop the film and sell photos of us in the lobby to help get the word out. He thinks it will help sell tickets.”
Zac furrowed his brow, confused. “Yeah, but…the people buying the photographs have already bought tickets if they’re buying photographs in the lobby.”
Isaac opened his mouth to speak and then he hesitated. Then he shook his head. “Look, I don’t know. I’d just rather let him do what he wants to do so we don’t have to watch him mope all day. Look at him, he’s smiling like a kid on Christmas.”
Zac grunted inaudibly as Taylor rushed back to them so that they could pose for the photograph. Climbin’ Claude was much too happy to have been recruited into the process and Zac hated the way everyone else stared. They were having their photograph taken. Hadn’t anyone ever had their photograph taken before?
Speaking of, that ended up turning into a frenzy, as everyone decided they wanted their photographs taken, as well. This put Taylor in the unexpected position to oblige, as he was too nice to deny them, and provided Zac with a perfect opportunity to go find a chair backstage and catch a quick nap.
Unfortunately, sleep eluded him. Once he had a moment to sit and clear his mind of the day’s hustle and bustle, the hazy memories of the previous night came flooding back. The day had been so busy that it already felt like it happened a lifetime ago as opposed to mere hours and he winced at the reminder. It hadn’t been his finest moment. He was ashamed of himself for all of it. For everything. He couldn’t even bask in the relief of hearing Bessie’s voice for the circumstances it had fallen under. Had he hit rock bottom last night? Had that been it? He’d gotten drunk, found himself in a burlesque club, blaspheming Bessie’s good name in a stag film theatre, and then phoned her collect from a payphone, racking up charges that he didn’t even want to attempt to estimate. All so that, after a month, he could blubber into the telephone like a big baby while Bessie had to be strong and talk him down. Jesus. He could only imagine what the telephone call must have done to her. What had he been thinking, waking her up in the middle of the night and throwing her into a situation like that? His goal had been for her to not worry about him. And now, knowing her, she was probably sick with worry over him and she needn’t be. Her words of encouragement truly spoke to him, what little bit he could piece together. He’d fought so hard to heed them and abide by them and finally stand tall and be the man she was proud of. He was one-third of The Incredible Hansons, after all, as she’d reminded him. Her words swam around in his mind in the sweet voice he had missed for so long: ‘You are great.’ ‘You are talented.’ ‘I love you.’
For Bessie. He would do this for Bessie. He would be his best for Bessie. And then he could go home to her.
Foregoing the nap that he was sure he could have used, he stood up, straightened his collar, ran his hand over his hair, and replaced the top hat on his head. He strode out onto the stage, in the middle of Taylor’s latest photography session, and he smiled at him. “What can I do to help you speed this along?”
* * *
Now that the Hansons were standing onstage in front of a packed house, Zac wasn’t so sure he wanted anything sped along, after all. As Isaac proudly ran through their introduction, they stood surrounded by their own props in front of a silk, champagne-colored draped backdrop. Three different tables, one for each brother, were strategically placed according to the level of trick they would perform. Isaac stuck to the smaller tricks such as cards and paper, Zac focused mainly on hat and wand tricks, and Taylor, who was the group’s main illusionist, was situated in the middle so that his more elaborate disappearing acts could be better seen by the audience.
In front of them, the audience peered up at them, dressed in their best evening attire. Zac couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many tuxedos and beads that glinted against the stage lights, especially in a vaudeville theatre. Apparently, in New York City, you used any excuse to dress up and go to the theatre, no matter the show. It almost felt like being back in the old days, performing in Las Vegas or Hollywood. And this caused Zac to stand a little straighter and raise his chin a little higher.
Once Isaac had ended his monologue, a nod toward the curtain cued the band to start up as the brothers took their places and fell into their same, daily routine, each brother making the effort to put forth the extra one hundred and fifty percent. Zac couldn’t help enjoying himself, his cheeks hurting from his smile as he participated in the endless staged banter with his brothers. The audience laughed, the tricks were performed to perfection, and there was no way the night could have possibly gone any better.
Zac wished Bessie could have been there to see it.
When it was finally time to wrap it up, Isaac began his ending monologue, thanking the audience for coming out, reminding them to encourage their friends to come out that week, and then introducing “one of the most daring acts The Incredible Hansons have ever performed.” As he spoke, stagehands came from nowhere, seemingly, littering the stage by removing props and removing Zac’s own clothing until he was down to nothing but his trousers and white button-down shirt. As he rolled the cuffs up off of his wrists, he watched six stagehands wheel out three extra-large sheets of plywood and position them around the stage so as to block any of the fine backdrop in case he missed the wheel, a notion which he silently scoffed at. Taylor had disappeared backstage to help with the arrangement of the dummy on the wheel, who they’d made sure looked her best tonight and, as he waited for the prop to be wheeled out, Zac made a show of dramatically examining the knives on the table set up for him.
They’d decided that Zac would pause and give a brief, comical description of each knife just to leave the audience in suspense for a little while longer before he began the act. He enjoyed putting on the show a little too much, feeling a fresh rush of adrenaline every time laughter filled his ears. When he had lain the last knife back down on the white towel, a gasp of horror rang out through the auditorium which caused Zac to break character and furrow his brow at them in confusion. What had he said? They’d laughed, hadn’t they? He was pretty sure they had…
Staring out into the audience, his eyes landed on those of a middle-aged woman in the front row, as they were fixated not on him, but on something behind him. His eyes darted around to other audience members within his line of vision and found all pairs of eyes focused the same way. And that was all it took for Zac to whip his entire body around to investigate what they had found so intriguingly…horrific.
Zac didn’t know which emotion he wanted to feel first. He wanted to vomit, the memory of emptying the contents of his stomach the last time this had happened feeling like it had been just yesterday. At the same time, he felt the heat rise in his face and all the way to his ears as the rage threatened to explode from him, not caring where they were or what they were doing. Sweat broke almost profusely along his brow and he was pretty sure his palms were dripping sweat onto the stage. He glanced over at Isaac, who returned the glance with his own surprised expression, and then they both turned their attention back to Taylor.
Taylor, who was strapped to the wheel and grinning like a loon.
Zac wanted to take his head off. Right there in front of God and everybody, he wanted storm right up to that wheel and beat his older brother to a bloody pulp for being the incredible moron that he was. Yes. That was it. Taylor wasn’t an Incredible Hanson. He was an Incredible Moron.
And then he turned around and glanced at the audience again and he remembered where he was. He remembered Bessie’s words and he remembered that he just had to get through the week before he could be on his way home to her. The longer he dragged this out, the longer it would be until tomorrow…and the next day and the day after that.
After all, the show must go on.
Taylor would certainly get what was coming to him, that was for sure. Right after Zac concentrated with all his might to not hit his brother in front of a sold out theatre.
As Isaac called for lights, the spotlights shown on Zac and on Taylor on the wheel and for what felt like the next lifetime, there was nobody else on Earth but the two of them.
BESSIE SLEPT UNTIL well after lunch. She knew this from the way the sun shone through her window and the way her stomach twisted and growled. She was surprised her parents hadn’t tried to wake her, but then she wondered if her father had taken the telephone call at three in the morning into consideration and let her sleep.
Sleep. Sure, she had slept. She finally dozed off three hours after she’d hung up the telephone with Zac and let her mind race and wander until the morning sun rose. She tossed and she turned, but she mostly lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with her conversation with Zac.
On one hand, she was thrilled to have been able to hear his voice, despite the complications in the connection. But the way he cried, the way he sounded so…desperate and pitiful. The last time she’d heard him sound anything like that was the night he’d told her about his mother. He’d been so upset and he’d clung to her for support, much like he seemed to have over the telephone. She was glad that she was able to keep it together and be strong for him, something that had completely surprised her. Maybe she had grown in the month that he’d been gone. Maybe she had matured, maybe she had finally become a woman that he could be proud to marry, someone who could take care of him and…and be able to handle the times that he had to leave town for work.
Could she? Could she handle more of that?
She had told him, in the last telegram that she’d sent him, that college life wasn’t for her. And the more she thought about it, the more that she decided it wasn’t. Did she really want to be an art teacher? Was that what she saw herself doing while married to Zac? If she was a teacher, how could she travel with him if the brothers were called upon to do another tour like this one, maybe even a longer one? She couldn’t do that. No. No, what she needed to do was support Zac. They would face whatever they had to face together, whether it was traveling or starting a life in Tulsa, but she was useless to him if she was two hours away, wiling away the hours in a classroom somewhere while he was back home, putting in all the hard work. That wasn’t fair and that wasn’t being a supportive girlfriend, fiancée, or wife, whatever she ended up being when the time came. Bessie needed to be with him. She needed to massage him when his back ached, to run her fingers through his hair when he was restless, to make him dinner and kiss his forehead and assure him that everything was going to be okay after an exceptionally hard day. Yes, that was her place in life. To be his, and only his.
She wished she could have been there last night. He needed her and she couldn’t get to him. That would never happen again. Once he came home, he would never find himself in a position where he needed her and she couldn’t get to him. Why, if she had been there, he wouldn’t have gone out and gotten drunk and upset like that in the first place. If she had been there, he would have gotten a good night’s rest without a worry in the world. You know what would have been just swell? If she could convince her father to give her money for an airplane ride to the city to be with Zac. They were coming home in a week, anyway, weren’t they? Wouldn’t Zac have been so surprised? They would have been happy and they wouldn’t have to miss each other anymore. How long would it take to fly to New York, anyway…?
She tried to use the fantasy to lull herself to sleep, but it ended up being tears that did it in the end. She couldn’t find it in herself to let the tears fall over the telephone with Zac being as upset as he was, as much as his despair broke her heart, but after she’d exhausted herself with the millions of thoughts as she lay in bed, she finally succumbed to her tears until she fell asleep.
But now, though, the sun shone bright and warm into her bedroom and her head was beginning to ache from the heat under her covers, combined with her ravenous hunger and her irregular sleep pattern.
It was physically difficult to pull herself out of bed, but she gradually began to feel human again with each step that she took. In the washroom, she washed up and pinned her hair listlessly on top of her head since she knew she was likely going right back to bed in a few hours, anyway. She pulled on an old, brown day dress that served merely as something to cover her body, and she didn’t even bother with stockings. The only reason she put shoes on was because her mother felt it was an abomination for a woman to walk around in her bare feet unless she was bathing or headed to bed. And even then she should be in her house shoes. More or less, a woman should never be without shoes and Bessie wasn’t in the mood for the lecture.
Looking at her face in the mirror, she realized how frightful she looked. Her eyes sagged and her cheeks lacked color and she decided that she probably ought to work on some sort of facial regimen for the week so that she didn’t look like that when Zac came home. It wasn’t that she cared what she looked like today, however, but she gave in anyway and splashed some water on her face and pinched her cheeks until they blushed. That would have to do, she decided. Anything else beyond that was pointless.
Finally, she meandered downstairs to the smells of lunch wafting from the kitchen and her stomach growled in response. With a little more pep in her step, headed for the sounds of her mother milling around, she rounded the bottom of the staircase and was halted at the sound of the knocking on the front door.
Her breath caught in her throat momentarily as she considered who might be there. Could it be? No, surely not. But, then again…
It took her two long strides to leap to the door and, when she answered it, her heart sank into her chest. She wasn’t sure what she thought she was expecting, honestly. She knew that it was near impossible for Zac to have come back home in less than twelve hours. Why she’d constantly allowed her hopes to rise like that lately, she didn’t know.
“Oh,” she muttered, not bothering to feign her disappointment. “Hi, Billy.”
Billy Connors stood on the porch of the farmhouse, the picture of an overcast sky now hiding the sun in the background behind him. Bessie couldn’t help but notice the fitting symbolism.
His smile contrasted the clouds, unfortunately, and Bessie hated how handsome he was. She hated even more that she’d noticed. She hated his long lashes and his perfect teeth. She hated his pristine shirt and trousers and she hated how his nearly black hair was combed over without a single strand out of place. Oh, how she missed the glimpses of Zac’s chest through his unruly shirts and the long, brown locks that fell to his shoulders.
Billy would never be Zac. He couldn’t even compare. Not in a million years.
“Hey, Bessie,” he greeted her. “You look really pretty.”
Bessie scrunched her nose up. She looked far from pretty and she knew it. She hadn’t fixed her hair beyond a poorly-pinned mess above her shoulders, she certainly wasn’t in her best dress, and she knew her eyes were still puffy from sleep, despite her attempt to rectify the issue in the washroom sink.
“You don’t have to lie, Billy,” she deadpanned. “It isn’t becoming of you. And girls don’t like it.”
“But I’m not…I’m not lying,” he stammered. “There’s something to be said for a girl whose hair isn’t perfect. It builds character. Means she’s not boring.”
Bessie stared back at Billy in disbelief. “Well, that’s not…that’s not something I would expect you to say.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…I thought your type was more like the pretty, petite, pristine type. The most modern of clothes, not a hair out of place…”
“Well, that’s not very fair. I like all kinds of girls. Why, I even liked you, didn’t I?”
His words stopped Bessie cold and her own reaction took her by surprise. Liked her? Past tense? Admittedly, the statement stung her a little and she felt ashamed for it. She couldn’t deny that the attention was flattering—and that was a confession that she would take to her grave. After all, what young woman didn’t want to be desired by handsome boys—even if some of them were jerks? So he had liked her before, but he didn’t now? What had happened? What had changed? Was she no longer interesting? Had she been interesting to begin with?
Bessie opened her mouth to speak and then she closed it again. She had just been about to comment on his past tense usage before she thought better of it. It was no big prize to be liked by Billy Connors and, besides, it didn’t matter, anyway, because she had a beau that she loved very much and wouldn’t trade for the world. Her pitiful ego would just have to take the hit and bear it, she supposed.
“What are you doing here, Billy?”
“Well, you said you were going to help me with Sue Wilkerson, remember?”
Oh, yeah. That was right. He didn’t like Bessie because he liked Sue Wilkerson. This reminder caused Bessie to calm and let her guard down a little. “I thought you said she has a boyfriend?”
“For now,” he said with raised eyebrows. “She won’t forever.”
Bessie scoffed. “You don’t know that.”
“Either way, I just need to be prepared when it happens.”
“You know…Billy…I had a really rough night last night…”
“Care to talk about it?”
Bessie’s eyes widened in shock. Had he actually said that? Billy Connors wanted to talk about something other than himself? Billy Connors was willing to listen? Billy Connors…cared?
Then she wised up. No. All this was, was for Billy to find out more information that he could potentially use against Zac. And, besides, her relationship was none of his business, anyway.
“I’d really rather not, if you don’t mind,” she replied.
For a split second, his face fell. Then he recovered with annoying grace. “Well, I wouldn’t mind listening if you ever needed to get anything off your chest.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured.
“Bessie!” Her mother’s voice rang out. “Oh, good, you’ve finally woken up. I was going to make some—“ Her voice fell silent and turned to a smile as she joined Bessie on the doorstep. “Why, Billy. What a surprise.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Harlow,” Billy smiled. “You’re looking lovely as ever.”
Her mother blushed and reached up to adjust her hair. “Why, thank you, Billy, you’re much too kind. So what brings you here today?”
“I came to visit with Bessie,” he replied, the smile never leaving his face. “I hoped she might want to go for a walk or maybe sit by the river—“
“I don’t feel much like swimming,” Bessie interjected.
Billy chuckled. “Well, I didn’t bring a swimsuit, so we wouldn’t be doing much swimming, anyway.”
Just as Bessie was about to turn down both offers, her mother opened her big mouth. “Why, that just sounds lovely. And I know Bessie could use the fresh air. Say, would you like a bite of lunch before you go?”
“That sounds terrific,” Billy beamed.
Bessie was in hell.
“You know what, Mama? You’re right, I could use the fresh air. Maybe I’ll go sit by the river, after all.”
She turned her back to Billy in order to lock eyes with her mother, praying that she would be able to read her pleading expression to please stop the invitations. Was her mother feeling well? Had she lost her mind? This was Billy, troublemaker extraordinaire. Billy, who hated her daughter’s beau and orchestrated the vandalism of Mr. Anderson’s store. Well, the second part couldn’t be proven, but the first part was definitely no secret.
But her mother didn’t seem to register the silent pleading. “Oh, well, then I can send your lunch to go. It’s a lovely day for a picnic!”
“Mrs. Harlow, that sounds swell!” Billy exclaimed. “Thank you.”
“Mama!” Bessie hissed.
But she had already turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.
Turning on her own heel, Bessie spun around and faced Billy’s gooney grin with a glare. “This is not a date. It is not a lunch date, it is not a river date, it is not any sort of date. And word better not get around that it is. I have a beau. Are we understood?”
“Like you’d let me forget,” he muttered. Then his voice brightened. “It’s just lunch between friends, right? No harm in that.”
“No…” she mused warily. “I suppose not…”
Except that there was. There was dire harm in going anywhere with Billy Connors and she had no qualms about leaving him standing on the doorstep while she marched to the kitchen to inform her mother of how grossly inappropriate the position she’d forced her into was.
“I’M NOT SURE I feel much like going to the river,” Bessie said as she sat in the passenger seat of Billy’s 1932 Ford Model 18. She clutched the picnic basket her mother had sent tightly in her lap and faced forward, her expression stoic.
Billy knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But, damn it, he feared that he was running out of time and the girl was as stubborn as a mule. Safest way to go, he determined, was to let her feel like she was calling the shots for a while. So, he replied with, “We don’t have to go to the river. We can go anywhere you want.”
He hid his disappointment. It was a hot, sunny day, and he knew that the river was probably one of the most populated places he could have taken her to. The more he could be seen with her in public, the better, he determined. Because then people would start to talk. And when people began to talk in Tulsa, word spread like wildfire. By the time Zac Hanson came home, the entire town would be a’ buzz.
He shook off the smile that was forming on his lips when he heard her murmur a near inaudible, “I don’t know.” The truth was, he didn’t have the patience to wait for her to come up with a reply, nor did he have the patience to drive aimlessly down this dirt road. And, so, he made the quick decision to veer off the side of the road and turn off the ignition.
Bessie’s eyes widened as she glanced at him and then turned to look out the window. There wasn’t anything to see, really. Except for the plains of green along the edge of the woods on the side of the road. Several feet away, the area was fenced off and there were some horses grazing in the distance.
“Why are we stopping?” She asked.
“I figured here is as good a place as any to picnic.”
“But this is someone’s farm!”
“No,” he corrected her. The he pointed behind her. “That is someone’s farm. On this side of the fence, it’s public property. And, honestly, that tree over there looks mighty tempting to sit under to escape all this heat.”
She turned her head to look at him and there was a pain in her eyes that he chose to ignore. He didn’t know what to do with such emotions so he pretended like he didn’t notice. It was safer that way.
“We can sit and watch the horses graze while we eat,” he continued. Then he smiled. “Hey, maybe one might come our way.”
“They probably don’t even know we’re here,” she muttered.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he attempted to be a gentleman and open the car’s door for her, but she beat him to it. Then he wished he could figure out a way to get one of the horses to come to the fence for him. That would sure wow her. Maybe if he saw that he had a way with animals, it would sway her opinion in his favor a little more.
But for now, he followed her to the tree and he sat beside her as she wordlessly spread the picnic out on the ground in front of them. Mrs. Harlow had packed quite a spread, complete with fried chicken, tomatoes, pickles, fresh fruit, and oatmeal cookies. “I made the cookies myself, yesterday,” Bessie said, pouring lemonade from a thermos. “Scout loves them.”
“Scout?” He asked as he shoved a cookie into his mouth. The oatmeal melted on his tongue and he closed his eyes with pleasure for a moment. Then he opened them and realized that he should probably make sure to be a little more formal with his eating. He wasn’t dining with the fellas, after all.
“My dog,” she replied. “Our dog, mine and Zac’s.”
“You and Zac have a dog?”
“Mmhmm,” she murmured.
She was silent as she nibbled on a piece of fruit, her eyes gazing out at the horses, her mind seemingly miles away. A feeling came over Billy as he watched her, an emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He wasn’t even sure how to describe it. Uncomfortable was a good word. Was he concerned? Were his feeling hurt because he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Bessie would rather be anywhere than in his presence? He knew that, going in, he knew how she felt about him. However, given the plan he thought he had, he knew he shouldn’t be having any of these thoughts or feeling any of these feelings. Compassion! Maybe that was it. Maybe he felt guilty for intruding on her life where he knew he wasn’t wanted. Maybe he really was concerned for her well-being.
Maybe Zac Hanson still had a debt to pay for Billy’s dead football career.
And maybe Bessie Harlow was the payoff.
He huffed a silent breath and puffed his chest out a little, getting himself back together again. He could, at least, try to like her. Maybe the more real his feelings came across, the more apt she was to respond to them.
“So,” she said, breaking the silence and jerking him out of his trance. “Sue Wilkerson. Why me?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you so convinced that I’m ‘the only person in the world’ who can help you woo her? A girl who has a boyfriend, mind you.”
“Oh!” He laughed sheepishly. “Well, because I’m inclined to think that you’re a lot like her. Good, sweet, a little innocent…and liked by a guy who’s known to have…a bit of a questionable reputation.”
Finally, she turned to look at him, the first sign of any type of emotion he’d seen since she’d answered her door. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows raised. “A questionable reputation?”
“Ah, come on,” he replied, his head hanging as he adjusted the food around his plate. “You know as well as I do that most people around here think I’m a bully.”
Her expression of incredulousness never left him. “Well, Billy, it’s because you are one.”
Suddenly, he felt defensive and his eyes darted into hers. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are. You bully everyone you come in contact with. You did it all through school, too. And even now, as an adult, you’re a big bully. You bullied Zac, you bullied me, you bully everyone! Adult men shouldn’t be bullies. It makes you immature and undesirable and it’s no wonder Sue Wilkerson won’t look at you twice.”
“Hey,” he barked. “I never said she wouldn’t look at me twice. And I’m desired by many girls and you know it.”
“Yes, but how many of them actually stick around?”
Billy was struck dumb by the question. It caused him to stop and think, quickly reviewing his past relationships in his head. He supposed he did go through girlfriends rather quickly. But he liked girls and they liked him, what could he say? Though, thinking about it, when was the last time he actually broke up with one? The realization struck him in the chest.
He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and he was forced to look at the girl and ask a question he wouldn’t have ever thought to take into consideration. “Um, are you, um, are you saying that girls don’t like me?”
“I’m saying that it pays to be nice,” she replied, picking up a chicken leg. “And to mind your own business.”
“Mind my own business? What does that mean?”
“It means you wouldn’t be much of a bully if you just let people be and not picked on them for no reason. Be nice, mind your own business, be honest with your feelings. And then the girls would come flocking to you.”
“But they already do flock to me…”
“Because you’re cute. That’s about the only thing you have going for you.”
He should have been taken aback and offended by her complete bluntness. But instead, he couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. “You think I’m cute?”
Bessie rolled her eyes and shook her head as she picked the skin off of her chicken. “You’re attractive. I have a beau, I’m not blind. And, anyway, your personality ruins the whole deal.”
Finally, he tossed his own chicken leg down onto his plate. “Bessie. Am I really that bad of a person?”
“Yes.”
They were silent after that. For the next few minutes, Billy chewed his food and contemplated Bessie’s words. He couldn’t even enjoy Mrs. Harlow’s delicious cooking for the thoughts that ran through his head. He and Bessie had never really associated that much outside of dinner with each other’s parents before the social came along. And if that was the way she saw him, did that mean the rest of Tulsa really saw him that way, too?
To be fair, he had said a couple of things to her while inebriated that might cause her to feel that way about him. In hindsight, the brutal honesty was, he deserved what Zac gave to him, dirty gypsy or not. But he didn’t have to take it as far as he had and kick Billy while he was down. It was bad enough he had taken the blow to the nose in the first place. Kicking him while he was down made it personal. Breaking his ribs made Billy ruthless.
But did that make him a bully? Retaliating after being wronged? That wasn’t bullying. That was restitution. And, to date, he had yet to get restitution for the wrongdoing because the dirty gypsy kept finding a way to keep the entire town on his side, it seemed. Or maybe it was his good-for-nothing flunkies that kept messing everything up. They couldn’t even trash a store right and make it look like an inside job. So, no. It wasn’t bullying. It was justice.
And then there was Joey Martin. That was justice, too. Because if he had kept his mouth shut and not gone squealing to the cops, Billy wouldn’t have had to interrupt him on his whatever-you-call-it with Millie Jennings at the river and issue the threat he had issued. It appeared that Joey, like Zac, needed to be taught a lesson about minding his own business.
So, there. Bessie’s argument was a failure because the truth was, those guys were meddling in Billy’s business and not the other way around. If anything, by Bessie’s definition, Zac and Joey were the bullies because they couldn’t mind their own business. Billy was the victim here. Couldn’t anyone see that?
Bessie couldn’t. And, unfortunately, if Billy was going to get what he wanted, he had to humor her. Once he’d gotten done what he needed to get done, he’d set the girl straight.
Interrupting his thoughts once again, Bessie sighed. “I suppose I’m not being entirely fair to you. After all, you did apologize to me and…well, you would have apologized to Zac if he was here. And—“ She paused and she looked at him. “About the police station. I have to tell you—“
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he cut her off. This was certainly the way that he didn’t need the conversation to go. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“You—you do?”
“Yeah,” he waved her off. “Yeah, it’s—I’m not blaming you for any of that.” Then his face fell as he reached over and picked at some grass beside him. “So, uh, you think if Zac was here he would…accept my apology? You know, for the social and all? I said some really rude things…”
“Um,” Bessie cleared her throat and she screwed up her face in thought. “Um, Zac, um…I think he could learn to. Maybe.”
“He hates me, doesn’t he?”
“You’re certainly not his favorite person in the world. But you knew that already.”
“Yeah. I suppose I couldn’t blame him. Hey, you think--? I mean, if I told him that I didn’t know you were already his girl—that’s the truth, honest.”
“I know. But sometimes with Zac it just…takes a little time. He’s a real ‘react first, think later’ type of person.”
“So he’d pummel me before the apology even left my mouth, then.”
“No…I mean, maybe not…”
“Bessie, is Zac…nice to you? I mean, what drew you to him?”
She looked him in the eye and she nodded. “Zac’s wonderful to me,” she replied earnestly.
“Well, yeah, but he’s so…so…”
“He is hot-tempered at times,” she admitted. “I mean, even you’ve seen that.” And then she gazed out over the farmland beyond them, a dreamy look in her eyes that made Billy’s stomach churn. “He’s the sweetest, most caring and attentive person I’ve ever met. I’m always safe when I’m with him, no matter what.” She paused and she sniffed, sweeping her finger quickly under her nose. “I miss him.”
Her tears weren’t lost on Billy, much as she tried to hold them in. Suddenly, he felt awkward. He never took into consideration that she might cry. He didn’t want her to cry. He never knew what to do when girls cried. So he attempted to change the subject when he said to her softly, “You know I’m not really a bad guy.”
She looked over at him, the tears still brimming her eyes. “I know. I know you’re not, you…you apologized to me and then you helped me at my party…”
“I only want to be your friend, Bessie. I want you to be able to trust me. You know?”
“I think if you showed this side of yourself to Sue, winning her would be a cinch.”
He smiled at her wryly. “Is that how Zac won you?”
“Zac gave me trick flowers and insulted my social class. I threw wildflowers in his face and kicked a picnic basket at him and then we fell in love.”
“Well,” he blinked out over the pasture. “That’s a story to tell your grandchildren.”
“Providing he comes home,” she deadpanned.
Billy’s heart leapt before his ears perked. He scowled at his body’s reaction. If Bessie sincerely believed that Zac was never coming home, then it was probably a safe bet that he wouldn’t. In which case, what was Billy doing here with her, anyway? If Zac didn’t come home, he didn’t need Bessie. He could get up right now and leave her here to walk home for all he cared.
Except that he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave her there. There was something else going on, something bothering her and, damn it, he didn’t feel right blowing her off even if she wasn’t any good to him anymore. Because the fact of the matter was, she was good to him, in every sense of the word. Better to him than any other girl had ever been. She was understanding and forgiving and compassionate—and damn if she didn’t grow just a little more beautiful every time he saw her.
Beautiful? Was she? With her mop of hair and her drab dress and her forlorn face? Had she grown from attractive to beautiful?
Say it wasn’t so.
So if Zac wasn’t coming home, why was she still hopelessly loyal to him?
“What makes you so sure Zac ain’t coming home?”
“Because he’s in New York City,” she sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve seen their act or not, but they’re immensely talented. And the city? All those lights and the people…why would they want to come home? I bet they’re making more money than we’ve ever even dreamed of right now.”
“Bessie,” Billy said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I hate to tell you this, but vaudeville is dead.”
She looked at him and she frowned. “But aren’t you the one who was so convinced that New York would keep them?”
Damn. He’d forgotten about that. “Well…well, sure, but facts are facts, Bess. If you’re not a talking picture star nowadays, you can pretty much forget about being famous. I’m sure he’ll be home.”
“Hm,” Bessie mused quietly. “My daddy thinks the same.”
“Your father’s a smart man,” Billy said, jumping on any opportunity he could get to slide a compliment in. “I’ve always respected him.”
Billy thought about the social and prayed that the statement wouldn’t come back to bite him. Thankfully, she sighed and she changed the subject.
“Zac telephoned me last night. In the middle of the night, in the wee hours of the morning.”
His eyes widened with surprise. He’d telephoned her? From New York City? Maybe he was making the kind of money she spoke of. Had they been speaking on a regular basis?
“It was the first time we’ve spoken since he left. Honestly, I never thought the telephone was ever an option. But he sounded simply horrible.” She looked at Billy, the pain in her eyes, and his own heart sank. “He’s miserable, Billy. He was drinking and he was crying and…and he wouldn’t want me telling you any of that, but it’s all I can think about!”
And, finally, she burst into tears. She wasn’t able to hold them back as they flowed down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. Drat. What did he do? Did he do what he was naturally compelled to do? Would it do more harm than good? At this point, did it matter? The girl was in distress. And, once again, that damn gypsy was the source of it.
Billy leaned his body over and pulled the judge’s daughter into his arms. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight him. Instead, she clung to his shirt with both her fists and she soaked his breast. As he wrapped his arms tighter around her, he scowled into the pasture where the horses grazed beyond them. He didn’t like the way this made the inside of his chest feel. And he didn’t like the way the gypsy constantly seemed to make her cry. He didn’t like it when she cried. And, so, that was just one more reason why Zac Hanson needed to be destroyed.
ONCE THE CURTAIN was down, Zac stormed backstage in search of his brother. He didn’t have to go far, as he stood there, just beyond the curtain, rubbing his wrists from having just been released from the wheel. By some miracle, Zac had managed to miss him, but not without cutting it dangerously close a few times. Now Zac was furious. Now he could let his anger go without the watchful eyes of any audience members or adoring public.
Unfortunately, Isaac must have seen this coming, because as soon as Zac got within a few short feet of Taylor, he stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. “Zac,” he warned.
This only fueled Zac’s fire and he attempted to push past his eldest brother to get to the other one. “Get out of my way, Ike. I’m going to make this quick and painless.”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Isaac said.
But Zac pushed past him, anyway, and stormed toward their brother. “What the fuck was that, Tay? Huh? What the fuck was that?”
And just as Zac lunged for him, Isaac held him back. “Don’t, Zac,” he said firmly.
“Let me at him!” Zac spat. “Let me do his pretty face in, just this once! Let me break his legs, maybe an arm or two. Just let me at him!”
Taylor looked at him, eyes wide with bewilderment. “Oh,” he scoffed. “So you won’t throw knives at me, but you’ll beat me to a bloody pulp and break my legs, is that it?”
“No,” Zac seethed through his teeth. “I’m going to kill you! Because if you have this incessant death wish, then at least this way, there won’t be witnesses and I won’t be locked up for your having been a moron!”
“You know what, this is getting ridiculous,” Taylor scoffed as he unbuttoned his cuffs. “Really, it is.”
“I told you, Tay! I told you I wouldn’t throw knives at either one of you ever again! How dare you put me on the spot like that? How could you do that to me?”
Finally, as Zac’s body was loosening from the tension, Isaac was letting up on his grip. The rage was subsiding and now Zac merely stood across from his brother.
“You saw that crowd,” Taylor replied with stars in his eyes. “You saw them, heard their reaction. They ate it up, Zac. They loved it! And now they’ll go tell all their friends about it! We’re gonna be a hit again!”
“Their friends are going to be sorely disappointed,” Zac spat. “Because you can rest assured that I’m not doing that shit again and you are not putting me on the spot like that again. Don’t you forget, I can improvise with the best of them. I will humiliate the shit out of you, you mark my words.”
“Come on,” Taylor smiled desperately. “You wouldn’t sabotage our act like that, would you?”
Zac took a couple of steps forward until he stopped nearly at Taylor’s nose. “What are you gonna do, Tay? Strapped up to that wheel like that? You can’t stop me. I can essentially do whatever I want during that act and you can’t do anything but lay up there and watch.” A smile crept across Zac’s face now. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? “Why, I could just stand there and spin you and spin you and let the audience count how many spins it takes for you to vomit. It’d get messy, I’m sure, but it would be entertaining, nonetheless.”
“Okay, Zac, look,” Taylor attempted to reason. “You’re right, okay? I should have cleared it with you first. Putting you on the spot like that on opening night was wrong of me. But would you have really gone for it if I’d approached you?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” Taylor threw up his hands. “Exactly my point. Zac, we can’t stand up here on this stage in a theatre like this in a city this big and expect to get by with throwing knives at cornmeal dummies. You got that? We’re in the big leagues now, just like we were before. We have the chance to start all over again. We have the chance to be…the next Harry Houdini!”
“Harry Houdini?” Zac declared, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve lost your ever-loving mind. Hell, at least Houdini got to die before vaudeville did!”
“Come on!” Taylor replied excitedly. “Harry Houdini got his start doing exactly what we’re doing now and look what he went on to accomplish!”
“We’ve been doing this for seven years now, Tay! It’s a little late for all that now!”
“It isn’t,” Taylor replied defensively. “You’ll see.”
Finally, Isaac stepped in and calmly put in his two cents. “Zac,” he said. “In some ways, Tay’s right. You really are good at the knife-throwing. Every night your aim gets better and better. I think if you spent a good lot of your days practicing, having Tay up on that wheel would cease to be an issue.”
Zac turned his head and he glared at him. “You realize that we have less than a week left here, right? That is no time for me to become any kind of expert in anything! But you know what? If this is what you guys want, then fine. You can throw knives and axes and shoot bullets and whatever else you want to do to each other all day long. But I want no part in throwing any type of projectiles at either one of you. If it’s going to continue to be like this, then consider this my resignation. The Incredible Hansons can continue on as a duo. Don’t be surprised if I take my cut of the dough and buy myself a plane ticket home. If you guys don’t see me for the rest of the night, you know where I am. Don’t come after me.”
And with that, Zac stormed out of the theatre, leaving the rest of The Incredible Hansons behind.