Authors: Frances Randon
“You have a lovely wife,
Roddy. She used to perform, didn’t she?” Luciana’s heels could be heard
clacking down the corridor.
“Si, yes. She was good but
not great. I know she resent not being hired to coach but she do not inspire
confidence. She no handle people so well. She could open school and charge lots
of money to train, but she have no head for business. She no want to have head
for business.” He waved Zack to sit back down. He sat behind his desk.
“You’re one of the owners,
aren’t you? A partner?” He took a seat.
“We cannot make decisions
based on love. The business, even lives depend on trusting each other. Claude,
he’s foolish, but in the air, you can trust him with your life. I thought Luciana
would hate me. I let her go. She want Mo’s place. She had Mo’s place. She got
lazy, spoiled. I know, what can I say? I love her but must do what best for
show. Now she happy to travel, shop and meet important people. You mind?” Zack
was surprised as Roddy clipped a cigar. “I smoke a little, drink a little.
Things I did not do for many years. But you get old, you want what you have
missed. In the moderation, of course.” He laughed. “I thought we have children,
but Luciana say no all the while we travel so much. And it is better, no? We
travel always. Hard on children, hard on marriage.”
“Are many of the others
married? It’s a young group.” Zach accepted a cup of coffee from a young woman
who entered with it then left with a smile from Roddy.
“A few. We have two married
couples who work together. We have a divorce couple who work together. It’s a
small family. Incestuous sometimes I think!”
“I would think that dating
each other and marrying each other would put strains on the company. On
performers.” Zack noticed that Roddy had not only had a full office set up but
had pictures and awards on the walls. He looked at a poster of Mo on a trapeze
in full regalia and flames coming up all around her. He wouldn’t have known it
was the same person. But she was something either way.
“Momo is beautiful woman,
yes?” Roddy’s eyes had followed Zacks. He caught a quickly concealed
embarrassment. Zack just nodded slightly. “Yes! Indeed we try to make rules.
But these are artists. You can’t force them ever. You teach to be professional,
you teach discipline, but you can’t force it. If personal relationships
interfere with show we give them time off. After that…” He inhaled, “Momo never
have problem like that. Always professional.”
“What about Claude, I’m
sensing some tension there?” Zack looked evenly at Roddy.
“Mo date him. Once, twice.
You get close and trust someone then you think it translate to…you know. Mo is
okay, not love Claude. Claude is Claude. Next woman around the corner. Man like
Claude, move on fast.” Roddy leaned back with his cigar. “You don’t warn me
that smoking in building is illegal, Zack. You lax on job!”
“Not my jurisdiction.” They
shared a laugh. “Has Ms. Whitman had relationships with anyone no longer with
the company? Problems with anyone outside the show presently or in the past?
“No. Momo is loved by almost
everyone. Sometimes there are jealousies, how you say, rivalries. But that is
only natural. They all know they must work hard. Most feel lucky to have paying
job.”
“Roddy, I need you to come right
now and see what the designer has done to the color scheme. It doesn’t work at
all with the costumes. You can’t just change everything and expect us to alter
everyone’s costume to match, look at this!”
“This is Sally. Sally, this
is Zack.” Sally eyed Zack. So he’s protecting Mo. Looker.
“Yes, the cop. Look at this,
Roddy; he wants to work in this blue into the Hades setting. It’s HELL! HELL,
Roddy! What is blue in hell?” She waved a hand at the poster of Persephone in
flames.
“It cannot wait to production
meeting?” Sally’s glare was the answer. She turned on her heel and huffed out
of the office. Roddy stubbed out his cigar and gave Zack an apologetic shrug
before going out after Sally. Maybe Hell’s kitchen has gas ovens, Zack thought.
Mo had been feeling a little
stiff. Amazing how just a couple days off could make you feel out of sorts.
Maybe the bed was too soft. She leaped toward Claude. They grasped each other’s
wrists and swung. “Give me another chance, my beautiful.” She somersaulted to
the other swing. She was now the catcher and caught him without a snag. “I have
missed you, beautiful Momo. I worried about you. I could not sleep knowing
those fascists had been torturing you!” She was tempted to let him go but his
grip on her was strong.
“They were hardly torturing
me, Claude. Although I did think they were going to annoy me to death. Zack
said they’re just doing their job.”
“Zack, Zack! All I hear is
Zack. You have him already? And you say no to Claude?”
“Don’t be an idiot. Claude.
Claude? You need to…”
“Claude, what you do up
there? You just hanging around?” Roddy yelled up. “It time to just hang out?”
They began their movement again. Claude leaped onto the other trapeze and stood
on it.
“Claude buy you dinner.
Claude buy you flowers, but you say no to Claude. Claude not good enough for
the star! I was star before you. Well, at the Big Top Circus. Now you want to
be the center of attention and put Claude in the shadows.” He did a triple with
ease. She matched him as they crossed to opposite swings.
“Mo didn’t trust you and Mo
was right.” She felt petty mocking him but she couldn’t help herself. “Can we
get to work now?”
“You want to be the only
star. I know they give you more money than me! I don’t care but you lead me on
as well. You are so vain you don’t care whose heart you break.”
She thrust herself off the
trapeze, landed on the platform. “I have no idea if they pay me more than you.
How would you know, anyway? And as for breaking hearts…” She snorted disgust.
“What are you doing up
there?” Roddy had both arms raised, his hands in fists. “Jesus Christo! What
going on?”
Mo glared at Claude. He
raised a suddenly contrite brow. “Nothing, my wrist hit wrong. Gimme a minute,”
she yelled down.
“You okay, you okay?” Roddy
made for the ladder.
“Don’t come up, Roddy, I’m
okay. Look, Claude, let’s just call a truce. You had nothing to offer me, I
know that. And really, I have nothing to offer you. I’m sorry you think I’m
trying to outshine you. I’m just trying to do my job. Let’s do our jobs and everything
will be fine. If I feel I can’t trust you, I’ll have to talk to Roddy.”
“Perhaps, I cannot trust you.
You break my heart.” At least he had dropped the first person.
“We better start trusting now
or we’ll both be out of a job.” Mo sucked up her annoyance and smiled. “We’re
the stars, Claude. We can’t do this without each other. We’re setting a poor
example, what’s it gonna be?” Claude didn’t answer, swinging out in a huff.
Mo stretched as Zack
watched her. “How’s the wrist?”
“What? Oh, fine, fine.” She
rubbed it a second. She was aware of him assessing her body. But she was not
self conscious or offended. She realized he made visual and mental assessments
of everyone. Part of the job, she guessed. “I hope it hasn’t been too boring
lurking around here all day.”
“Not a bit. Pretty
interesting actually. I guess when we see any kind of performance we’re seeing
what you want us to see. You all make it seem so easy. Kind of cool seeing what
really goes into it. All the work. You all really are athletes. As well as
artists.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve never seen so many perfectionists in one
room. Does it get boring for you to do things over and over?”
“That’s part of it.
Challenging yourself toward a perfection that can never be truly achieved. Even
if you get it perfectly one time, you won’t the next. But we have to give the
appearance of perfection each time we perform. That’s what we strive for. It’s
an illusion after all. Just like when I hold the flames in the palms of my
hands.” She draped a towel around her neck and held up her unburned palms.
“I’ve got to meet Sally for a few minutes. You want to wait here?”
“I’d rather stick close.”
Zack said with a professional air. He’d found out he was given leave. He had no
intention of letting her out of his sight. He didn’t want her to guess how
happy he found himself to be about that. “What are your meal plans?” he asked
as they walked toward Sally’s domain. “In the room?” He noticed she actually
not eaten much at all for the two, going on three days he’d been with her. A
bite of bagel, a fork of salad. Was this her norm? Grief, stress, he guessed.
Surely an athlete like herself wasn’t in a position to starve herself to be
thin. She was strong. All muscle. Slender but not waiflike in the least. He
didn’t figure her for a self starving idiot.
“I guess the room. I can’t
face being in the restaurant. All the guests looking. I wouldn’t mind except
for… everything.” Mo turned and touched his arm. “Too bad you’re not armed with
some of that Chicago pizza I keep hearing about. I wonder if one of the hotel
restaurants serves it. I guess we could get delivery.”
“You eat pizza?”
“So Cal Martino says, ‘You
gonna stand there, Burnham, or you gonna get this kid’s gun outta my ass?’” Mo
watched him as she chewed the delicious pizza. It was a little hard to hear in
the crowded pizzeria so they leaned toward each other across the table. “The
kid was so embarrassed that he actually yanked his gun hand out from under Cal
so he could toss the gun. I was so relieved, I threw up immediately. I did not
want to shoot that kid. I threw up on the back of his jacket while I cuffed
him. You know what he said? ‘Not on my Bulls jacket, motherfucker!’ Excuse me.”
He looked sheepishly at Mo.
“My god, what a job. I can’t
imagine doing what you do.”
“Ditto. How’s the pizza?”
“Best pizza backa the Yards!”
They laughed. She looked around the old factory building with approval, her
eyes landing on this and that of the collection of vintage White Sox
memorabilia, lots of signed old black and whites of ball players and
celebrities. She had noticed a photo of Mayor Tyler with Zack’s friend Dino,
the owner, at the entrance. She liked all the old Chicago advertizing signs and
small odd implements. The building was all bricks and huge riveted pipes. On a
platform in one corner was an enormous resin cow wearing a chef’s hat.
Unfortunately for the cow it had been marked according to cuts of meat. Zack
had explained it had come from a street art exhibition honoring Chicago’s
stockyard beginnings. Mo ate like a champ and downed a beer. He was glad to see
it. Couldn’t get enough of seeing her smiling a little, feeling more relaxed.
She watched his face while he
told his story, talked to his buddy, Dino Salvatiere, and ate his pizza. When
he smiled his watchful green eyes relaxed. She looked at his full sensual lips.
His ears were a little big. Maybe it was just the cop cut. Not that she minded
since their relationship was strictly business. In a friendly way.
“So pretty lady, you must be
something to get this one out for the night.” Dino slid into the booth and
elbowed Zack in the ribs. “We went to high school together. Who woulda thought
a puss like Burnham would become a cop. But look at ‘im now. Tough guy! Eh,
Zack? You like the pizza? Thanks. So pretty lady, what do you do?”
“I…Uh…”
“Ms. Whitman is a performer
for the show out at Greendale.”
“No, shit! The murder and
everything! Holy Shit!”
“Dee, there’s a lady
present.”
“A beautiful lady! You one of
them acrobats” Mo nodded with a smile. “I tried to get tickets. My kids begged.
My wife works at the tourism bureau and thought she might come up with some, no
dice. Shit, I mean tickets sell out so fast these days. My kids act as if I’m
just out to torture them. They don’t understand. Oh, well, so what’s going on,
Zachary? I saw Chelsey the other day. I was at Fulton, checking out a new
distributor. She got out of a cab and saw me. I waved. You know what she did,
Zack? She ignored me. Just looked away. What d’ya think about dat?”
Zack looked uncomfortable. Mo
guessed Chelsey was the ex-wife. Dino kept talking about her. Not malicious,
just unconscious of his friend’s discomfort. Mo wondered if he was still
carrying a torch. Not that it mattered. He was her security, they were just on
friendly terms was all. But she couldn’t help but wonder what this Chelsey, the
name annoyed her for some reason, was like? Dino went on. “Well, she
never took to us south siders…”
“Dino? Dino, how would you
like to bring your family to the show as my guests?” She stopped him in mid
sentence.
“What? No shit, I mean
really, ya kiddin’ me?”
“No. What day would be good
for you?” Mo smiled with her brows raised in question.
“Did you all hear this?
Nicky?” Dino yelled at his brother in law serving beer at a nearby table. “Did
you hear this? I’m off on Mondays. I have five kids. Right, Zack? Five. My wife
is devout but she likes to make babies as much as she likes to pray. Five
kids.” He nodded his head in affirmation. It was a number that astonished him
and he expected it astonished others.
“Mondays a good time. We
don’t usually do shows on Mondays but we are this next one. Sold out but
they’ll be some no shows. I always get some tickets for guests. You call Zack’s
phone while you’re parking. Show’s at eight. You call him and he’ll meet you by
the ticket booth. Is that okay Zack, do you mind?” Zack nodded his head looking
very well pleased. “Let’s say ten seats. Is that enough? You can bring a few
friends.”