Roxie wandered over from the tent where she performed and leaned on the trailer beside me. Most of the time, she’d hang out with me on her breaks between shows. She took a long drag from her cigarette on a break, and when she exhaled, she left a bright red ring of her lipstick on the butt of the cigarette.
Based on the black headband and fingerless lace gloves, I guessed that it was Madonna night. Roxie liked to mix up her dancing act with celebrity theme nights, usually using whatever clothes she had around, but she’d gone so far as to make a silver faux–chain mail costume to go as Aunty Entity from Beyond Thunderdome.
I leaned on the podium, turning my attention back to the spectacle that was Gabe instead of trying to attract my own customers. But, really, there was no need to even try. Gabe would’ve stolen any customers I tried to hook.
“He’s like an old pro,” Roxie commented.
“Yeah, he told me he did some juggling when he was younger, but I had no idea he’d be this good,” I admitted.
“I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I like him,” Roxie said, and I looked back over my shoulder at her. “Not, like, like him. But he’s a good guy. And he’s quite the showman.”
“Why shouldn’t you tell me that?” I asked.
Roxie shrugged a shoulder. “Because you don’t wanna get attached.”
“And you think your approval will cause me to get too attached?” I teased.
“Hey, a guy isn’t worth his salt unless he’s got Roxie’s Stamp of Approval.” She raised her fist and motioned like she was stamping it down on a paper. “Don’t you forget it.”
“I’ll try not to,” I replied with a laugh.
“So, that Della Jane chick is his mom?” Roxie asked. It would be impossible to keep that connection under wraps when everyone had seen the way Gabe interacted with her today.
My smile fell away and I turned back to watch Gabe. “Yeah, she’s his mom.”
“It’s great that she’s championing our cause or whatever, but…” Roxie trailed off. “It doesn’t all seem strange to you? Her fervor about keeping us?”
“Everything about Caudry is strange. Why should she be any different?” I asked, but I was really just avoiding the same question I’d been asking myself.
“I would just keep my distance from her, if I were you.” Roxie tossed her cigarette down and stomped it out in the gravel. “Anyway, I should get back to work.”
I wanted to heed her advice, but I had no idea if that would be possible if I planned to continue seeing Gabe. And at the moment, I did really want to keep seeing him. The whole time I was working, I found it difficult to keep on task because I kept looking over at him.
Sometimes I’d catch him looking back at me. It was always right after I’d looked over, like he knew it somehow, and his eyes would catch mine, and he’d give me a sly smile, like he was privy to a joke that only the two of us shared.
After the last show of the night, Gabe came over and helped me close up the museum. The carnival had been busy, but it had been a quiet night. Uneventful, really, and that was nice after the last few days I’d had.
“Thanks for all your help tonight,” I told Gabe as we walked back to the campsite from the carnival.
“No problem.” He grinned down at me. “It was fun.”
His hand slipped into mine, a simple gesture that felt so strangely normal and natural, like we were just a regular couple. It was a fantasy I let myself believe, falling into a comfortable silence as I imagined what my life would be like if we were just two ordinary teenagers. Date nights of movies and pizza. Promises of the future. Stolen kisses in the backseats of cars.
As Gideon said in the opening of his act, there is always something extraordinary in the ordinary.
With the campsite half deserted and everyone exhausted from doing double-duty, it was exceptionally quiet as we walked up to my trailer. I turned to face Gabe, preparing to say good night, since I had another long day ahead of me tomorrow, but the screen door to the Winnebago swung open behind me.
“Mara?” Mom asked, looking down at me with bleary eyes. Her dark tangles of hair fell free over her shoulders, and she pulled a violet shawl around her, despite the heat. The scent of incense and cloves—an added effect for her readings—hung on her like a cloud. “Good. You’re safe and you’re sound.”
“Are you okay?” I asked as she stumbled down the rusted steps as she came outside. I reached out, grabbing her arm to steady her. “Where are you going?”
“I am fine, fine, fine.” Mom waved me off, then she leaned and kissed me brusquely on the temple. “The night has been too long, and I’m staying at Gideon’s so I don’t take it out on you. I love you.”
Rather abruptly, her haze seemed to vanish, and her gray eyes widened and flashed with intensity. She gripped my arms so tightly, I knew her fingers would leave red marks on my flesh. “Stay inside, qamari. Promise me you’ll stay inside tonight.”
“Sure, Mom.” I nodded. “I promise.”