Kiss Me Hard Before You Go (5 page)

His music selection left much to be desired, and Evie begged him to play some newer tunes – music that she and her friends were listening to – Fleetwood Mac, the Eagles, Led Zeppelin – these were just a few bands she asked him to play, to liven the place up. Kids her age didn’t want to hear Patsy Cline or Mel Torme. They wanted rock and roll, music with an upbeat tempo that spoke to them. As much as she wouldn’t admit it aloud, disco would’ve been better than most of the classics he would dish out night after night. Gray decided a compromise was in order and told Evie she could have free reign and choose the last song of the evening this year. Since the rink had been open, the last song of the evening had always been the same: Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” blared through the speakers. Knowing the song’s relevance to her father and what it meant to him, Evie began to despise the beautiful tune. It was her parents’ song – their song, and she couldn’t fathom how he could torture himself by playing it every single weekend night. Evie decided she’d steer as far away from Cline as she could – her first choice, and only choice for that matter, was Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams.” To her nothing could compare to the poetic lyrics of Stevie Nicks.

He bit into the pimento cheese sandwich. The creamy filling oozed out of the bread as he chomped into it. A clump fell onto the table, and he scooped it up with his hand, sticking it into his mouth. He then proceeded to lick the remnants off of his fingers.

“Daddy,” Evie groaned. “That’s gross.” She wondered why she even bothered.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” he said, chewing with his mouth open. “We could use the extra money,” he added, searching for her reaction.

She looked up at him and swallowed her food. “Are we okay?”

He nodded while giving a tight lipped expression. “We’re okay. Just try and be friendlier to people. If you act like you want to be there, they’ll want to be there too.”

“I’m nice to them,” Evie said.

“Nice and friendly ain’t the same. Just smile a little. Be your charming self,” he said.

Evie wasn’t all that hungry. Her worry for Katie made her lose her appetite. She took another bite of her sandwich, and set it down on her plate, resting her elbows on the table.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked. His plate was empty.

She shook her head no and slid the plate in his direction.

***

Evie took a quick shower, rinsing the grime and stench off of her. No matter how much she scrubbed her hands, the orange South Carolina clay still stuck beneath her finger nails.

In a matter of minutes, the roller rink would be open. She could hear her dad and Cooper talking down stairs. They were both so loud. Cooper was losing his hearing and spoke ten decibels above everyone else.

She headed down the stairs wearing a pair of bell bottom jeans that tightly clung to her hips and thighs and a plaid shirt tied at her waist. The bottom of her jeans swiveled against the top of her leather platform sandals.

“Hey, Evie,” Cooper shouted. He gave her a big grin and pulled her toward him and hugged her.

“You’re gonna burn up in that sweat shirt,” she said, pulling on the heavy cotton fabric.

He patted his stomach. “I’m cold, and it gets colder than a witch’s tit once the sun’s down anyhow.” Cooper’s fashion sense consisted of wearing sweatshirts and shorts throughout each season. He held onto an old soup can, the label was completely worn off, and spit chewing tobacco into it. His bottom lip was full and protruded outward, and when he smiled at Evie, brown tobacco covered most of his crooked teeth.

“You’re wearing those clod hoppers again. Your feet are gonna be sore by the end of the night,” Gray said, gesturing to her feet.

Evie shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” She looked down at Cooper’s feet and saw that he was wearing knee-high socks—each with a different color stripe—and an old pair of tennis shoes.

“Starting tomorrow this place is gonna be buzzing with people,” Gray said with a hint of excitement.

Evie didn’t say anything. She grabbed the zipped up pouch off the table and opened it, counting the bills inside. “This should be enough.”

“I’m hoping that bag is full by the end of the night,” he said and handed the other pouch to Cooper. “Here’s yours.”

“Thanks. I’m thinking we’re gonna have an interesting group of skaters tonight. When I drove up, I saw some of them carny folk. They’re a strange bunch if you ask me,” he whispered loudly to Evie.

“No one asked you,” Gray said. “They mean no harm, just some of them are odd to look at.”

“You reckon that tattooed man has anywhere left on his body to tattoo?” Cooper asked.

“Probably not. He’s covered in ‘em,” Gray answered.

Cooper shuddered. “When I got this one,” he pointed to the
Semper Fi
tattoo on his forearm, “it hurt something awful. I can’t imagine doing that over and over again until my body was covered.”

“That’s why you’re not a side show freak,” Gray said. “Well...a freak maybe.”

“You see the abuse I get from your daddy,” he said to Evie. “Not like I get paid much either.”

“What else are you gonna do on your weekend nights?” Gray said.

“Not get harassed by the likes of you,” he retorted.

Evie looked up at the kitchen clock and interrupted them. “If y’all keep going at it, the sun’s gonna set and rise before you get your fat butts outside.”

“She just called us fat,” Cooper said, trying to feign offense.

“She sure did,” Gray said. “Like we ain’t got any feelings.” He guffawed as he opened the door. “Enough horsing around, let’s get going.”

Chapter 6

Finch massaged the back of his sweaty neck. Setting up the carnival was work. Real work. He wanted to call it a night and crash until morning came.

His cot wasn’t the most comfortable place to rest his head, but after working hard for two days straight, it was heaven on earth and it’d do just fine. He couldn’t complain. He heard stories of other carnivals where workers slept under trailers in the mud and took showers with a cold watering hose. These were the carnivals run by crooks. With people who had no scruples and didn’t mind cheating other people and taking all their money. Kip refused to be associated with that type. This type, that type. There was a difference, and Finch was thankful he at least worked for
this
type. The type that had some ethics and earned money the good ole fashioned way, the honest way. He didn’t trust Kip completely, but he knew the man had enough of a conscience that he wouldn’t cheat someone, and although their sleeping accommodations weren’t the best, they at least had four walls with a roof and a cot to lay on.

He lay down and rested his palms against his shaggy dark brown hair. He looked up at the top of the tent; it flapped a little from the wind. Even if it was summer time, the weather in Haines was decent, better than Gibsonton’s brutal heat.

His eyes shut, and he could feel himself slipping into sleep. “Finch,” a deep, heavily accented voice said. “Finch,” he repeated.

“Uh huh,” Finch said, his voice low and groggy.

“We’re headed to Mr. Barnes’ skating rink. Do you want to come?”

“No,” Finch said.

“You’re going to lay here all night? That is not healthy for a young man your age.”

Finch could hear the concern in his old friend’s voice. “Friedrich,” he said with a sigh. “I’m tired. Roller skating doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

“There will be ladies there your age. A handsome man such as yourself should not be holed up in a tent.”

Finch sometimes had to remind himself that Friedrich was a lot older and European and calling a guy “handsome” wasn’t strange in his eyes. “I’m dead tired man, but thanks.”

He rolled over on his side ready to fall asleep and suddenly felt Friedrich’s big hand grip his arm. Friedrich yanked him up off of the cot. “What the hell,” Finch said in a huff. He felt his sore arm and scowled at Friedrich.

“You will come with us,” Friedrich said and nodded his head in confidence.

Finch glared at him and sighed heavily. “Okay. Okay,” he said with frustration. “I’ll go, but I’m not staying long.”

Friedrich gave him a smug look. His long black mustache curled up at the ends, and his face was a spectrum of colors completely adorned in an array of tattoos. His dark and silvery hair was greased down and slick but brittle to the touch.

Finch yawned and stretched. “Next time you wanna take a nap, I’ll be sure to return the favor.”

“I would like to see that.” Friedrich was at least a half a foot taller than he was. “My arm is the size of your thigh.” He let out a loud, bellowing laugh and flexed his bicep. Even if Finch was muscular, Friedrich’s physique made him seem small in comparison. He patted Finch on the top of his head and laughed again.

As they walked out of the tent, they were met by Doris and Mouse. Besides Friedrich, they were the only remaining side show freaks left in Kip’s carnival. Most “freaks” had retired or were close to retirement, and as time progressed, carnival owners saw that they weren’t the star attraction like they had been in the past. They didn’t have the same mysticism or appeal that they used to. And this didn’t make carnival owners like Kip happy. He wanted to make money, and taking care of three people was costing him more than he was making. They all three knew that it was only a matter of time until they were tossed out. Things had already begun to change.

Standing only slightly higher than Doris’ chubby knees, Mouse, whose real name was Hugo, was thirty-two inches tall. The carnival bragged that Mouse was “The World’s Smallest Man” which was not a fact and no where near being the truth. There were a few other carnivals in the US with men much smaller than Mouse, but most townies didn’t know the difference.

Doris’ wide body was triple the size of everyone in the carnival. Known as “The World’s Fattest Woman,” Doris swore that no other female was as fat as her, and no one disputed her either. Doris was huge, and that was putting it mildly. At last count, she weighed over four hundred pounds and was continuing to expand. At any given time of the day, she was known to have a turkey leg in one hand and a soft drink in the other.

“About time you got out here,” Doris said. Her voice was loud, and she had a slight southern drawl influenced by her Texas upbringing. Her hair was teased and set in tight wound curls. A huge pink bow was clipped to the left side of her head. She rarely wore anything other than the color pink, and those pink frocks were long night shirts, sheer and fit tight against her rolls of fat. Bright red lipstick was painted on her plump lips, and her pudgy face was powdered white, almost as if she had used talcum powder instead of regular make-up.

“Friedrich didn’t give me a choice,” Finch said.

“A young lad like you shouldn’t be laying around in bed anyway,” Friedrich said, and Doris and Mouse nodded their heads in agreement.

Mouse pulled on his suspender straps and yanked up his britches. “It’s our only night to play.” His voice was higher pitched and his lips twitched to the side when he spoke in tic like fashion. A gray fedora sat back on his head, exposing his high brow. Underneath the felted hat was thinning red hair showing more freckle covered scalp than anything.

“We only get to enjoy a few quiet nights when we’re on the circuit. We should make the most of it,” Doris said. She licked a huge rainbow colored lollipop that had caused her tongue to turn blue and purple.

“All right. All right,” Finch said with exasperation. “I get it,” he tried to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t be mad at them.

They headed toward the skating rink. Because it was located on the other side of the farm, it wasn’t an easy trek over the rolling hills. Doris came to a stop and fanned herself. “It’s hotter than the Devil’s armpit,” she said.

Mouse’s petite hand touched the side of his left hip, grimacing as he did so.

“How about a lift?” Friedrich said and picked him up, sitting him on top of his broad shoulders.

“Thanks. View’s much better from up here,” Mouse said.

By the time they reached the rink, Doris’ pink satin dress was covered in her sweat, and she carried her special pink satin slippers in her hands.

“We should’ve drove,” Finch said, noticing Doris’ red face.

“Too late now,” Doris said with a heavy breath. “That popcorn smells real good.” She licked her lips. “Let’s get some.” She meandered toward the concession stand before they had time to answer her.

Evie stood behind the counter in a weathered wooden shed. An aged sign with the painted word “Concession” was nailed to the top left corner of the battered station. The nails had rusted, some of the wood was rotted, and most of the paint had chipped from the Concession sign.

Evie wore the same annoyed look on her face that she had given Finch when they arrived on the property the day before. Two guys leaned against the counter obviously trying to flirt with her, but Finch could see she wasn’t biting.

“What can I get you?” Evie asked Doris, ignoring the two drooling guys.

“I’d like a large popcorn and Coke, please,” Doris said.

The two boys snickered. “She’ll need a feed sack of popcorn to satisfy her appetite,” one of them said.

Doris ignored them and gave Evie two one dollar bills.

“She’s so fat she wears two watches for both time zones she’s in,” the same guy said to his friend, loud enough for Doris to hear.

“Is that all you got?” she said with exasperation. “Listen. I’ve heard them all, and on the scale of insults, yours is piss-ant poor. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to upset me.” She took the bag from Evie, grabbed a handful of popcorn and placed it into her mouth, chewing with her mouth wide open. “Yum,” she said.