Page 98 of Russian Roulette
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath, since I’m not looking forward to this. “I spent my childhood traveling across the country with a carnival. We stopped at small towns where the local people were thrilled to see a giant Ferris wheel being constructed in an open field. We’d stay there a few days, only a week at most. Once the townspeople grew tired of the rickety rides, lame side shows and cotton candy, we’d dismantle everything and head on to the next town.”
“Are you serious?” Jade asks, drawing her head back to gaze up at me. “You honestly grew up in a carnival? I can’t believe those things are still around. Were you with your parents?”
“Only my mom,” I reply. “My father took off before I was born. Mom worked at a variety of jobs. When she was young, she was talented enough to perform as a trapeze artist. After she aged out of that position, she took on the role of Madame Maria, a fortune teller from a mysterious, foreign land. The customers would line up outside her tent to be told of their fortune. She was a born natural in the role and stayed in high demand with the customers.”
“Where is she now?” Jade asks in a quiet voice. “Is she still alive?”
“No, unfortunately she’s not. In between reading tarot cards, she chain-smoked cartons of cigarettes and drank pots of black coffee. Our rough life on the road and her personal bad habits took a terrible toll on her body. Her death came quickly and unexpectedly on a boiling hot summer day.”
I hesitate, not wanting to dredge up the painful memories. “She collapsed onto the floor of the tiny camper we shared with two other ladies,” I continue. “When I couldn’t rouse her up, I ran to find someone to drive her to the local hospital. To this day, I can still picture the tired doctor’s face when he walked into the hospital waiting room after examining her. He was brutally blunt and to the point. He told me she had lung cancer and didn’t have long to live. Then he asked me if I had a family member for him to call. I remember shaking my head. There was no one to call.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jade says. “How old were you when she died? Who took care of you?”
“I was only twelve and scared to death. She passed away before the carnival left town at the end of the week. The carnies took up a collection of money to pay for her burial in an unmarked grave at the town’s sole cemetery. I don’t remember where she’s buried, except somewhere in Texas. Can you believe that I don’t know where my own mother is buried? The main thing I remember was the fear of being put out on the side of the road or being turned over to social services in a strange town.”
“My God, that must’ve been terrifying to you. What did you do?”
“I tried to stay out of sight and not draw attention to myself. The boss man was adamant that he wanted me gone. I was a liability, being a minor at twelve-years-old without a parent or guardian. He told me I couldn’t stay, that it wasn’t legal. That he would get in trouble with the police if they found out he was allowing unaccompanied minor children to travel with the group.”
It’s hard for me to tell this part of my story. I’ve pushed it to the back corners of my mind for many years and hoped to keep it there. Jade senses this and reaches over to take my hand in her small one, threading her fingers through mine.
“I begged him to allow me to work for low or no pay,” I say. “He said that wouldn’t work either, because then he would get in trouble by breaking child labor laws. I felt so alone. A few of Mom’s friends finally convinced him to let me stay until we arrived in a bigger town with better resources for an orphan. A city like Dallas, Atlanta, or St. Louis. The carnival never set up in those cities because of permitting problems, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming. He agreed to let me stay a little longer. Just until we arrived in a big city, which luckily for me, we never did.”
“How long did you stay with the carnival?”
“Six more years,” I reply. “I quickly learned how to earn my keep while living under the radar. At first, I did any odd jobs that needed done. Everything from helping the men break down the Ferris wheel to setting up the big tent for the trapeze show. I never caused trouble and was always careful to stay completely out of sight when the carnival was open for business. I taught myself how to be invisible.”
She nods back at me in understanding because she knows how to become invisible, too.
“Then one day, an elderly animal trainer named Shorty, who had been there forever, asked me to help him spread hay in the tiger’s trailer. His arthritic shoulders were hurting, and he couldn’t lift the bales of hay up from the ground to the trailer. He was too embarrassed to admit to the other men that he was too weak to do his job, so I agreed to help him on the sly. This was the first time anyone had ever allowed me to come close to the beautiful creatures. The tigers were dangerous and off limits to everyone except him. Until that day.”
“And you fell head over heels in love with the tigers,” Jade says. “I wondered how you became a tiger guy.”
I smile, remembering my awe when I was first allowed to go close to the tigers. “Shorty and I came to an unspoken agreement. I would do all the hard manual labor involved with the tigers and he would let me hang around. Over the next few years, he taught me everything about them. How to earn their respect by respecting their boundaries first. Slowly, over time and with patience, the tigers bonded to me too. When Shorty grew too old to continue the tiger act, I was the natural replacement for him.”
“Is Shorty still alive? Please tell me he is.”
I shake my head, sadness washing over me. “No, he died too, not long after I took over as his replacement. I think he was holding on until I was ready before passing on. The tigers were everything to him and he hated the thought something might happen to them if he died.”
“He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?” she asks.
“Shorty was the closest thing I ever had to a father, and I loved him. He basically adopted me. He changed my life by taking me under his wing.”
“How in the world did you go from working in a carnival to headlining a show in Vegas?” she asks. “That’s a gigantic leap for anyone to make without connections or money.”
“Giovanni,” I spit out. “As I’ve mentioned before, Giovanni is a collector of people. He’s always scouting for new talent to make use of here in Vegas. He sent a man to approach me after there were rumors of the carnival shutting down. I was worried about what would happen to the tigers. When Giovanni offered to bring them with me to Vegas for a show, I jumped at the opportunity. At that point, I would’ve been willing to do anything to keep them with me.”
“Were you able to bring all the tigers with you?”
“All but one, Puffin’s mother,” I tell her. “The owner of the carnival sold her before I sealed the deal with Giovanni. I’ve searched everywhere for her and have never been able to find her. That’s one of the main reasons I’m constantly rescuing animals from roadside zoos. I guess I keep hoping she’s out there somewhere and I can bring her home.”
Jade squeezes my hand tighter and leans her head against my shoulder. “If she’s out there, you’ll find her. Can I help? If there’s any way to track her through a computer, I can do it.”
“Thanks for the offer, and I’ll gladly take you up on it. I’ll take any help I can get to find her if she’s still alive. I owe that to her for letting her slip through my fingers. Luckily, Puffin was only a small cub when I brought her here. The good life is all she’s known and I want to keep it that way.”
“This is probably the wrong time to bring this up, but I’m going to anyway,” Jade says, a touch of hesitancy in her voice. “If I can figure out a way to put my plan into action, we could all make more money than we could ever spend. You might make enough to buy out your contract from Giovanni and open the animal sanctuary.”
“Your plan will only work if you don’t get caught,” I remind her. “It’s too dangerous and I won’t exchange your life for my goals. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Even for the animals.”