“Quick,” Rosy said. “Give her a swig before she runs.”
Ruby grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the overturned crate and, before Lilly could protest, held it to her lips and told her to drink. Lilly took a big sip. The alcohol burned her throat and ignited her chest. But she didn’t care. If it helped her get through this, she’d drink the entire bottle. She took several more good swallows, then pushed it away and coughed. She’d had her share of booze over the years, but never on an empty stomach, and she could already feel it slithering through her veins, warming her arms and legs.
“There you go,” Ruby said. “That’ll take the edge off. Now go on.”
“I . . . I can’t,” Lilly stammered. “I can’t do it.”
“You have to,” Rosy said. “You know what Merrick will do if you don’t.”
“Come on,” Ruby said. “Show him you’re stronger than that.”
For a second, Lilly thought about taking the beating. Anything would be better than undressing in front of a crowd of drunken men. Then she remembered what Merrick said about entertaining rubes in a tent behind the baggage wagons and something shifted in her head, like reason and logic and sanity coming unfastened deep within her. She felt it in her chest too, like a loosening of her lungs and heart. Her breath felt bottomless. She wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or a sudden case of indifference, but something pushed her toward the stage. She almost laughed, wondering what the men’s reactions would be when they saw the color of her skin. Maybe they’d go running out of the tent and spread the word that the Barlow Brothers’ had a disgusting freak in their girlie show. Maybe it would be the last time she’d have to do this.
Holding up the hem of her silk evening gown, she marched up the steps on unsteady legs. Josephine winked at her and left the stage. When the music started, Lilly took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight.
A collective intake of breath filled the tent, and there was a moment of awed silence. Standing men sat down hard in their chairs and sitting men stood, wide-eyed and gawking. Lilly was right. The rubes didn’t want to pay good money to see a freak take off her clothes. They wanted busty blondes, sultry redheads, and voluptuous brunettes, not a ghost with a headful of spider-web hair. Relief washed through her. There was no need to get naked after all.
Then the men started whistling and clapping, and Lilly’s heart sank. She glanced nervously at Ruby and Rosy, who were watching from the wings. Ruby smiled and made a circular motion with her finger. Lilly turned around, her back to the audience, and tried pulling herself together, a bulge of terror rising in her mind. Merrick and Mr. Barlow had forced her up there, up there in front of a group of men who might be fearful of her, up there in front of men who might want to hurt her as badly as they wanted to see her naked. And now she was supposed to undress and put herself on display for them.
It’d been years since Momma’s words rang in her ears, but she could hear them now, like a returning nightmare from her youth, calling her an abomination and telling her it was a grievous sin to expose her naked body to anyone, even herself. And suddenly it broke, the horrible realization that she had been cheated out of a normal life came over her, and a soundless cry tore from her chest. Her only thought was to run, to get off the stage and get out of the tent. All at once, the whiskey rebelled inside her empty stomach and she knew she was going to be sick. She turned and her feet tangled in her dress and she almost fell. Then she recovered and headed toward the steps, a hand over her mouth.
Someone in the audience began to laugh, and another man joined in. Others shouted angry words.
“Is this some kinda joke?”
“Get that freak off the stage!”
“We want our money back!”
An empty popcorn box hit Lilly in the head. She hunched her shoulders and put her arm up to protect herself until she reached the stage steps and scrambled down them. At the bottom, she fell on her hands and knees and vomited in the flattened grass, her hair hanging in her eyes.
“Oh my God,” Ruby said.
Rosy knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”
The twins helped her up and Josephine rushed back onstage to calm the angry crowd. Dizzy and disoriented, Lilly broke free from the twins and stumbled along the wing. She went out the back flap and hurried into the dressing tent. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Josephine calling the twins back up onstage.
Trembling and trying to catch her breath, she collapsed inside the dressing tent. After a long minute, she got up, trudged over to a mirror, and wiped the red lipstick from her mouth with shaking hands. Using more force than necessary, she scrubbed the melted mascara from around her eyes and cheeks. She’d done a lot of things to survive over the past six years, but she refused to take her clothes off in front of a roomful of men. She just couldn’t. And if Merrick and Mr. Barlow thought they could force her to entertain rubes in the tent behind the baggage wagons, she’d run away. There was no other choice. She’d take her chances in the real world, or join a different circus. Maybe, if she begged him, Cole would leave with her.
Behind her in the mirror, the canvas flap whipped open and Merrick stormed into the tent. She got off the stool and backed away. No matter what happened next, her conscience was clear.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Merrick shouted, his face snarling and red. “You think you can just do whatever you want around here?”
“I was sick,” she said. “The twins gave me whiskey and I—”
“I don’t give a shit if you were dying! You made a laughingstock out of Josephine and the entire Barlow Brothers’ Circus!” He launched forward and grabbed her arm. “I warned you what would happen if you didn’t do what you were told. Now you’re going behind the baggage wagons with the rest of the whores.”
“No,” she said. “You can’t make me. I won’t do it!”
He bared his teeth and dragged her toward the rear of the tent. “You will, and I’m going to be the one to break you in.”
He shoved her behind a stack of steamer trunks, then seized her again, lifted her off her feet, and crushed her to his chest. Her kitten heels fell off and for a moment she hung suspended, her bare toes scraping the tops of his boots. He shook her hard and set her down. When her feet touched the grass, she tried to get away, but he grasped her face, turned it toward his, and pushed his wet mouth over hers. She clamped her lips shut and tried to wrench free, but he wrapped his arms around her and held on tighter. The sour tang of whiskey and tooth decay filled her nostrils and mouth. She twisted and turned and kneed him in the crotch.