All his life, Richie had wanted Gail in the worst way. It was more than love; it was a desire, a need, which bordered on obsession. She was so strong, outgoing, and full of life; she was everything he was not. It had existed before lust, before he had even had an idea of what that had meant. From the moment that he had seen her, watched her move and heard her laugh, he had wanted. And now here, finally, was his chance.

“It sounds like he’s a jerk,” he agreed with her. She didn’t say anything, just picked at the ground. Feeling emboldened, he gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved closer to her. “So, you want me to walk over there and punch his lights out,” he asked, half-jokingly. Gail stood up suddenly and he retreated back.

“No,” she said simply and shook her head for emphasis. “I don’t know what I want.” She stared off for a moment and then kicked the ground. “Why did he have to do this to us? Everything was going fine,” she fumed.

“I don’t know about that,” Richie muttered. She looked at him, puzzled and he went on. “I mean he’s always been so cold to everyone. He doesn’t talk to the rest of us, just spends all his time with your dad, training. He’s a creep. I never liked him.”

“No,” Gail shook her head, “he’s…” she floundered. “It’s hard to explain, but he’s not cold. He just doesn’t know how to act around anyone.” She tried to say more when a loud shout cut her off. Richie turned around and paled when he saw who was coming. “Oh, no,” Gail mumbled and turned to face them.

“So here she is,” Roger Telebaum snarled at Gail. A large man with beefy arms, Roger was the owner and manager of the circus. He stared at Gail with tiny, hard eyes and she backed up in spite of herself. His face was flushed and sweaty, but his voice was chillingly cold. “Do you know exactly how much your little temper tantrum is going to cost me?” he asked her pointedly.

“Roger, leave her be,” Gail’s father spoke up from behind him. Roger glanced back at him and Bernard moved back a step quickly as well. Gail could feel Richie behind her inching closer. Roger looked back at her and his voice became cloying.

“I don’t care what kind of teen crap you’re dealing with, girlie,” he said, “but I do care when you decide to take it out on my equipment and scare away the patrons. I had more than a half-a-dozen families come crying bloody murder to me when they heard you carrying on back there. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“We’ll take care of any damages,” her father promised quickly. Roger’s lips curled up in contempt, but he seemed to relax.

“I’ll make sure you do,” he promised Bernard. “I’ll handle buying the replacements; you can just pay me back later.” Gail started to say something when Richie gripped her shoulder tightly. She stopped and glanced back at him. “What are you doing here, boy?” Roger asked his son, noticing him for the first time. “I thought I told you to make yourself scarce.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Richie said sullenly and let go of Gail. Roger eyed his son closely, as if looking for something to get mad about. Backing up, Richie stared at the ground and thrust his hands into his pockets.

“We’ll agree to whatever you think is best, Roger,” Bernard said smoothly, stepping in between father and son. Roger grunted and nodded.

“’Course you will.” He glanced at Gail and then reached out and grabbed his son’s arm. “Performances are pretty much done for the day. I may as well start looking for some replacements in town.” He smiled at Bernard. “I’ll give you the bill when I get back.” He walked briskly off, dragging Richie behind him. Richie tried to say something to Gail, but his father pulled on his arm, making him stumble to keep up.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“How can you agree to whatever that troll says?” Gail asked her father when they were gone. “You know he’s just going to pad the bill out with whatever he can. We can barely make do with what he pays us now.”

Bernard removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his face before answering. “Gail, you’re going to have to face reality one day,” he said finally. “Circuses are disappearing. Only the biggest are still open, and they have no place for sideshow acts like us. We have to take the opportunities that life give us, and working for Roger Telebaum is our best chance. His father used to run a fine circus,” Bernard mused.

“Too bad his son’s a jerk,” Gail remarked. Bernard pursed his lips and nodded.

“Maybe more than you know,” he agreed. “Roger’s the kind of man you’re going to have to learn to deal with though. He’s petty, not too bright, and arrogant. Men like him have to be treated carefully; get them angry and they’ll get you back, even if it means destroying themselves in the process. They’re dangerous; he’s dangerous.”

“I feel sorry for Richie,” Gail said suddenly and looked at her dad. Bernard nodded and put his arm around her.

“He’s not a bad kid,” he agreed. “But he’s gotten hard around his father. I worry about him.” He was silent for a while, and Gail waited holding on to him. “Well,” he said finally, “now do you want to tell me about this temper tantrum of yours?”

Gail shook her head stepped back. “Not now, no,” she said quietly. “I will, but I don’t know what to think right now. Just give me a little time.” Her father nodded.

“Whenever you feel ready though, you know I’m always here for you,” he told her gently.

Richie sat in silence as his father drove through the back-roads of Smallville in their battered pick-up. Roger had a map open on his lap and he glanced up and down from it as he drove, swearing occasionally, as he got confused at the directions. His father produced a beer from the glove box and quickly drained half of it. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding his beer, and his head buried in the map as he tried to find the right road. They hit a bump in the dirt road, and with no shocks to speak of; the two were jostled pretty badly. Roger lost his grip on his beer and it fell into his lap, spilling all over the map. If he could have gotten away with it, Richie would have laughed.

Roger brushed the beer can off his lap and it tumbled into the cab. He stared at the mess on his pants and cursed to himself. Richie busied himself staring out the window as he father looked up at him. He knew that all his dad needed was an excuse to start in on him.

Richie and his dad had never been close; at best they had been civil, but that had been a thousand beers ago. His mom had run away when he’d been three, so he couldn’t remember much of her at all. Sometimes, he could almost hear her voice, loud and sharp in his memory. He’d grown up around an ever-changing crowd of strangers. People came and went in the circus, and no one had ever really taken the time to befriend the skinny, shy son of the manager. Too weak to do any of the real work around the circus, Richie had wandered around most of his life, doing odd jobs and staying out of sight as much as possible. It had seemed fine to him, until Gail and her father arrived, and for the first time, Richie had seen what he’d been missing.

Maybe that was what he liked about her, he thought. The love she and her dad seemed to have for each other, maybe that was what he wanted so badly. Richie thought about it as his dad drove into town. He was so distracted, he hardly noticed when they stopped and his dad shut off the engine.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Roger growled and shoved him. “Get going.” He gave him another shove against the car door impatiently.

“What?” Ritchie asked, rubbing his arm from where the door handle had hit it.

“I can’t go walking around with beer all over me,” Roger muttered and gestured to his pants. “You’re going to have to buy everything we need.” He rummaged around the dashboard and came up with a list of things he’d jotted down. Then he fished around in his wallet and somewhat reluctantly gave Richie his credit card. Richie stared as he saw how much was on it.

“But this’ll take all day,” he complained. Roger reached over, opened his door, and shoved him out quickly.

“Are you slow or just stupid?” he yelled. “I don’t care how long it takes; just get all the stuff back here. Richie stumbled as he was shoved out of the car and almost lost his footing. He stared back up at his dad, and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than hurt his father. The feeling was so pure in its intent that he shuddered. His father must have seen it in his eyes, because his voice became suddenly cold. “You ever want to do something boy, I’m always ready,” he offered. Richie held his eyes for a moment, and then looked away. He shoved the list and card in his pockets and started walking. He could feel his father’s eyes burning a hole in his back as he turned the corner.

Richie walked down the street, literally trembling with rage. What his father had said to him kept echoing in his mind. He didn’t even bother to see where he was going as he walked down the street. Then he stopped cold, and turned around suddenly. He retraced his steps to a parked cop car and stared at it.

“This is really stupid,” he muttered to himself. “You’re going to get caught, don’t do it.” He knew he was right, he knew this would end badly, but for some reason, he couldn’t keep from smiling as he stared at the car. The car was empty, but they had to be somewhere, he thought, scanning around. He spotted them inside a nearby dinner having lunch. He almost skipped his way up the steps towards them.

“Officers,” he said quickly, “there’s a guy down the street in a pick-up who’s drinking and swearing at everybody. I walked past him and he threw a can at me.” Richie rolled up his sleeve to show the bruise the door handle had formed on his arm. The pair looked at each other briefly and then they put down their meals and stood up.

“Where is he now?” one asked, bringing out a little pad and pencil.