“Is your act planned out, Dove?” Delila asks, staring at me from down the aisle.
I nod. “Yes. I think. As much as it will be. I’ll need a few things, though.”
Delila curls her finger, so I head to her and rattle off everything I’ll need. Nothing major. A couple wine bottles, a waiter’s plate. You know, because I have no idea how I’m going to sell this idea that I not only want my own show, but I want to recruit a few people to join me.
“Dove!” King barks from behind me, just as I hear the loud rumble of his bike vibrate around the large area.
I spin around, knowing how awkward and annoying this is going to be.
“I’ll get your things ready, Little Bird!” Delila yells over the bikes. Her eyes flick between King and me. “Good luck.”
Stepping into the wheel, I fling myself up on the swing, and King drives the bike in next. He starts rocking it back and forth. He stops rocking once we’re partially in the air with Killian starting his bike down below. They’re waiting for Maya, so there are a few seconds when it’s just him, me, and his bike, and the seconds that seem to freeze time when your feet aren’t placed securely on the literal ground.
I want to yell at him.
I want to ask what the fuck Val was doing in his room.
I want to ask what he meant last night when he said that he couldn’t have me.
I want to know what he meant when he said I took something from him.
I want to know all of these things, but instead, my mouth is glued shut, and the words are latched around my throat, squeezing tightly with no desire to move.
He starts rocking again, and we’re up, doing what I remembered. I keep my eyes locked on the ace of spades again. I take myself out of the wheel while keeping myself aware of what’s happening around me. Once that’s done and we swing back down, I quickly climb out of the wheel and wait for what to do next. When I’m out, I’m watching as Keaton continues doing flips on the outside of the wheels and the metal planks that connect them as they continue to spin.
Wow.
Slowly, they all get off the Triple Wheel of Death and line their bikes up on the other side of the tent, which I have only just realized, must be five or six times the size of the average circus tent. The roof is pulled up in four different spikes, reaching for the midnight sky every night and the neon lights that dangle from each seam, flashing a glowing white and lilac.
“I don’t think you need to practice anything else,” Delila assures. “The knife throwing you have, and you’re well acquainted with The Brothers’ telekinetic and illusionist mind tricks.”
“Killian. I’m acquainted with Killian because he’s the only one who does it, right?” I want clarification.
Delila pauses, looking between me and Keaton, who is now standing beside me. “Tell me she’s kidding. She’s kidding, right?”
Keaton smirks. “She’s kidding.”
Delila rushes off to do whatever it is that Delila does, and I spin around to face Keaton. “Wait, so you’re all telekinetic? I thought that was a myth?”
Keaton’s eyes narrow, his head tilting. “The thing about myths, Little Bird, is that they’re usually true, but humans like to blanket it with the word ‘myth’ in hopes that people don’t find out the truth.” He disappears, and I’m left standing near the center stage, thinking over what I’ve just found out. Delila assumed that I would be acquainted with The Brothers’ skills, but I thought Killian was the only one who had that ability.
“She can’t be here right now, Amber. Not right now.” My father’s voice drifted down our empty corridor and slipped beneath my bedroom door.
“What do you mean?” My mom’s voice was hushed, but panicked. “This is what we have to do for her. It’s what’s right for her to save what little she has left.”
My mom was silent. That said something when Mom was silent because she always had something to say.
“What did I do wrong?”
My father was the one who was silent now, before growling softly, “Everything.”
I shake my head out of the memory fuzz that I just dived into, confused.
“You okay?” Killian asks, his eyes searching mine. I’m still standing in the center stage, my eyes glassing over in unshed tears. I wish I could roll around in a memory and grasp onto everything I don’t have anymore, bringing it back to the present.
“Yeah,” I smile. “Fine.”
“You sure?” he repeats, and I’m not sure if he wants me to say yes or no.
“I’m sure. Just a memory. Not sure what triggered it.”
Killian stands straight, his tongue dragging over his lower lip. “Maybe a scent? I’ve heard that certain smells can trigger even the most buried secrets inside of your brain.”
“Hmmm.” I offer a somber smile. “Maybe.”
I’m back in my black leather shorts and a black crop top. I already know that this is what I wear during the bike scene and even the knife throwing scene, but I haven’t actually successfully made it through an entire show without something happening.
I hope to change that tonight. Right now, with our first Texas show.
The act goes like clockwork, the bikes start, and I step into the Triple Wheel of Death. It swings, the crowd cheers, and then the scene is over. I duck behind the curtain, and we wait for the Six Demons of Hell and the Seven Angels of God to do their first skit, before we head out again for the knife scene.
King seems more on edge. The knife actually grazes my outer thigh this time. I flinch, my eyes shooting straight to him. Was it intentional, or was it an accident? That was my main question. Only I know that King isn’t the type to make that kind of mistake, so my question was already answered.
After the knife show, Midnight did their part. Val and Rose on the aerial, and then Maya singing while swinging on a large swing. It’s a creepy song. Hauntingly familiar lyrics but with a warped, distorted tune. She must sing covers of songs but turn them into some weird Tim Burton-style nightmare.
Now it’s my turn, and I’m not sure if I’m ready.
I run my palms down my thighs as I hear Delila introduce me outside.
“Dove?” a young guy says, a wine bottle in one hand and a waiter’s tray in the other. “Would you like me to take these out?”
I nod, again running my sweaty palms down my fishnet tights. I decided to leave the pole out, knowing I could do more damage without it, and I need to drive my intention home to Delila.
“What are you doing out there?” Kyrin asks from behind me, his eyes going up and down my body.
“Dancing,” I answer, short and clipped. I can’t have him throwing my vibe off.
“Careful, Little Bird. He’s always watching.”
He shoves me through the curtain before I can ask who the hell he’s talking about, and the spotlight is on me. It’s dim, burying my body in the shadows. “Carnival” starts playing, and I automatically slip into position. I slide up and down and allow my body to take over the lyrics and beat of the song before moving to the front seats in the VIP section. I mean, these people pay from $1400 onward for a VIP ticket. The least I could do is give them a show, right?