pretty normal to see families in traveling circuses, especially since they spend nearly eleven months out of the year on the road. Some of them perform together, like the Terzi Brothers. Others were practically raised by the circus because their parents were once performers, like Dexi, whose acrobat lineage goes back three generations.
And other families found one another because of the circus. The costume designer is married to the set designer. One of the Terzi Brothers is engaged to a clown named Anna, who is pregnant.
When I meet Jin Thompson—a juggler who was born in Iowa but has performed all over the world—he tells me he has more exes in the circus than Vivien has knife cuts.
“I rarely cut myself these days,” she says, making a goofy face.
Jin’s black topknot barely moves during his workout, the swish of the jump rope snapping against the air in front of me. “I’m just glad Simon took away your live target. The thought of you accidentally butchering Marco’s beautiful face was wreaking havoc on my anxiety.”
“To be very clear,” Vivien says, her voice dropping low, “Marco was never in any danger.” She looks at me, eyes softening into a grin. “But Simon thought my act was too scary for kids.”
“Oh, believe me, it wasn’t just the kids.” Jin tuts. “The only people who enjoy seeing knives thrown at other people are sadists and people who hurt animals.”
“Because that’s not a sweeping generalization,” Dexi notes with the same icy tone that never seems to thaw.
Jin winks. “We are who we are.” Something draws his attention behind me, and he gives a halfhearted smile, the rope whipping against the dirt with the rhythm of a metronome. “Which is sometimes so damned unfortunate.”
I turn around and see the motorcyclist from earlier walking toward us.
“You’re back!” Vivien shouts, giving the leather-clad stranger a hug. “How was your vacation?”
“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes pinned to something in the distance. He looks flustered, but the others don’t seem to notice. And if they do, they don’t acknowledge it.
My ears burn. I wonder if he knows about the set list.
“Well, there’s a face I’ve missed,” Jin says with a smirk.
Dexi’s laugh is soundless, but present in the way she crinkles her nose. “One-way road, Jin.”
Jin cuts her a look in the corner of his eye, but they’re so familiar with each other that I get the feeling it’s nothing more than a long-standing joke between them all.
Vas runs his knuckle beneath his brow like he’s searching for a distraction. And maybe it’s my own ego that’s the problem, but I can’t help but feel it’s because of me.
Especially since I’m the only one he’s actively trying not to look at.
“Hey, so you two probably haven’t met yet.” Vivien starts to hold her hand up toward me, and we both reply at the same time.
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” says Vas.
We look at each other briefly. Is that a scowl?
I clear my throat. “We didn’t meet meet. We just ran into each other earlier.” Almost literally.
Vivien grins, nudging him with her shoulder. “Wow, Vas, it’s not like you to be so talkative around strangers.” There’s a wisp of playfulness hidden at the edge of her mouth, and I realize quickly that she’s teasing him.
Maybe they’re together.
Vas furrows his brow and glares at her. Definitely a scowl. Okay, maybe they aren’t together.
Vivien laughs like she doesn’t care. “Well, Harley is an aerialist. She’s here to train with Maggie.”
It’s the first time Vas looks remotely interested in anything she’s said. He glances at me with dark eyebrows that don’t match the honey-brown tones of his hair. “Maggie would never agree to that.”
I open my mouth to defend myself, but I realize there’s no point. It’s true—she didn’t agree to it, and I’m not sure what to do to make her change her mind, aside from, well, begging.
Dexi fights a yawn. “Maggie is a spoiled brat, and she doesn’t get to have everything she wants.”
Jin snickers, and Vivien’s eyes widen. I guess it must not be common to bad-mouth the star of the show.
Vas shakes his head like he doesn’t want to get involved, still scowling.
“You’re in a mood,” Dexi notes. Part of me feels pleased I’m not imagining things, but the other part is bracing nervously for his reply.
“Simon pulled the plug on my set list. Says he has some secondhand stuff he wants tweaked instead,” he replies.
Secondhand. Dad would die of rage if he heard his compositions talked about like that.