Chapter 4
Opening weekend at Albion Renaissance Faire meant that the cast were moving around the dog park as soon as the sun was over the horizon.
Those getting into heavy makeup or with early shows were already getting breakfast. Meanwhile, Duchess snoozed peacefully on Elijah’s bed as Chicot and Elijah ate cereal standing in their tiny kitchen.
Chicot’s hair stood at odd angles, and Elijah lamented how she could simply tuck it into her hood so it wouldn’t be seen while he had to carefully sculpt his. She wasn’t even planning on doing more than brushing hers.
Elijah’s hair was currently in a protective style, separated into thick twists that looked like celosia flowers to Chicot.
His preferred do required him to take all the twists out and form his hair into a collection of bouncy curls that sat like a crown on top of his head.
Perfectly shaving the sides of his head, he could add fun shapes in his undercut.
Right now, he had a stripe that traveled from his temple down the side of his head and a star above his ear that he’d let Chicot add.
Chicot thought it was rather befitting of him. He was a star.
After about ten minutes of bemoaning caring for his hair, Elijah went to actually start it with his coffee in hand.
Chicot left him to his devices, only telling him when to close the door so she could start squeezing herself into her costume.
The base layers fit well, but they were meant to be tight.
They formed a sort of second skin for Chicot, protecting her from some of the scratchier elements of her costume.
Once she had the bodysuit on, she told Elijah he could open the door again and situated her collar as Duchess picked her head up to look at her.
The sound of the bells always got her attention, but she was too lazy in the mornings to attack them.
“Do you need help with your laces?” Elijah stepped out of the bathroom, his hair now a perfect collection of coils on the top of his head.
“Yes, please,” Chicot chirped. Elijah just nodded, pulling on his shirt.
He helped Chicot fasten the snaps at the back of her ruffled collar.
After that, she pulled on a bodice that had billowy sleeves, buttoning it up before finally tugging on her gloves.
It had so many more layers than the workout clothes she’d been practicing in earlier that week, and she briefly wondered if she’d made a mistake when designing this outfit.
But she hadn’t overheated in any of the dress rehearsals in the past few days, so she felt confident she would be fine.
Her heart was only racing because her anxiety was acting up.
Once she had it all on and was looking in the small mirror to line up her hood so the points were straight and to tuck in the last bits of hair, she knew any discomfort would be worth it.
She looked like a true court jester, in her slim pants with red and marigold stripes on one leg, while the other had checkers in the same colors, the bells on her hood jingling.
Chicot smoothed down her bodice, making final adjustments to her shiny blue belt with a moon-shaped buckle.
Her pointy shoes squeaked as she hopped on her toes, spinning as she stepped out of the bathroom, looking at Elijah.
“What do you think?” She did a ball change, pretending to tap dance. Elijah laughed.
“You look amazing.” He set a hand on his hip.
His outfit was simpler, but he still had the flair of a real bard.
His shirt was open enough to bare his smooth chest, which he had painstakingly waxed even though Chicot kept reminding him he probably didn’t need it.
Over his shirt, he wore an open vest, a belt over it to keep it from flapping.
A short cape was held onto one of his shoulders by a thick leather strap, which matched his belt.
They wore coordinating colors, but Elijah’s outfit had flashier materials. The flamboyant blue jacquard and light red damask accented his simple vest and pantaloons to make him look more bard-worthy.
“So do you.” Chicot bounced on her toes again, the pointy ends of her shoes wiggling. Each jangle of the bells made her want to move, so she struggled to stay still as Elijah took her hands.
“First Albion,” Elijah said, “then every ren faire in the country!”
“Well, not every faire.” Chicot laughed. “Some of them happen at the same time.”
“But we’ll get into every faire.” Elijah beamed, reaching for his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “We’ll have our pick of the litter, the jester and the bard.”
He threw his hand out dramatically, his voice taking on the quality of an excited announcer for the joust. Their ruckus caused Duchess to slip under the bed with her ears back, annoyed at having her sleep disturbed.
Elijah handed Chicot her bag with her mask and props for when they were wandering around the faire. Chicot gave Duchess’s sleepy head a smooch too, just for good measure. Then, they stepped out into the dog park, walking toward the Albion Renaissance Faire, their faire.
Chicot didn’t make it two steps into the grounds before someone had linked arms with her. She startled slightly, giving herself a few moments to recognize who this person was.
“Good morning!” Lyza’s voice was loud. She held a travel coffee mug in her other hand, and she moved like she’d already downed four of them.
She already wore her unitard, the stirrup legs tucked into heavy boots, but she’d yet to tie any of the accompanying pirate paraphernalia on top of it.
Chicot smiled politely, excited for the day but not ready to interact with anyone outside of Elijah.
Especially since she hadn’t fully realized it was Lyza until she’d started talking.
Two small braids ran along the crown of her head, meeting at a ponytail in the back of her head, her bangs gelled at the front to keep them in place.
She looked so different without the lazy bun or French braid Chicot had gotten used to her wearing.
“Morning.” Chicot curled in on herself, her shoulders pulling in and her head angling away from Lyza so she didn’t hit her with the points of her hood.
Lyza didn’t seem affected by the one-word response or the attempt to move away; instead, she squeezed Chicot’s bicep lightly to pull her closer and lowered her voice.
“May I discuss something important with you?” Lyza asked. Chicot blinked, turning to look for Elijah in hopes he might save her, but the traitor was already flirting with the sausage stand guy, who was carrying several plastic racks full of sausage buns as Elijah serenaded him with his lute.
“Of course.” Chicot shifted on her feet, trying to put at least some distance between her and Lyza. She let Chicot go, waving for her to follow.
Lyza led Chicot toward the main office, stopping them near the gazebo and standing directly in front of Chicot. Lyza placed her hands on Chicot’s shoulders briefly before stepping to stand next to her. She gestured to tell Chicot to straighten up, as she did the same.
Chicot complied but followed Lyza with her eyes, as if that would clarify what the hell she was doing.
Lyza had been nice so far, if a bit forward, so Chicot didn’t sense any ill-intentions in her odd behavior.
Once Lyza finished inspecting Chicot, the pirate mumbled to herself and stepped in front of Chicot again.
Chicot glanced over her shoulder to see if Elijah had seen them walking this way. She couldn’t find him. He was lost in a sea of people hurrying about, trying to prepare for the first day of the season.
“So—” Lyza pointed toward Chicot with her travel coffee mug. “We need a favor, and we were thinking it might be mutually beneficial to ask you.”
Chicot tilted her head, a chorus of bells jangling in her ears. Normally, that was a fun and festive sound, but now it put her further on edge. Lyza smoothed the front of her bodice, her big, gray eyes on Chicot’s as she took a deep breath.
“The thing is, I might need someone to take my place in our show for a little while.” Lyza glanced over her shoulder, looking toward the main office doors as people slipped in and out.
Chicot’s eyes bulged—she couldn’t help it.
The Pirates Three had been a staple of the Albion Renaissance Faire for the better part of a decade.
It almost didn’t feel like the faire without them.
Lyza made herself smaller at Chicot’s reaction.
“I wouldn’t be considering this if it wasn’t serious,” Lyza rubbed the side of her neck. “But I don’t want to put Monty and Elvis out of work, you know?”
“Oh, okay.” Chicot set her hand on her hip, leaning to one side as she wiggled her toes inside of her shoe. She didn’t understand what Lyza was getting at or why she was telling Chicot any of this, and then it hit Chicot.
“So, we were wondering …”
“If I could take your spot in the show?” Chicot asked. Lyza nodded quickly, putting up her free hand.
“I know it’s a big ask, but it’s only if I get told I need to stop performing, and you would get my cut of the tips and money,” Lyza added quickly. Chicot paused, standing still for a moment as she looked Lyza over again.
“So, I’d be like … an understudy?” Chicot squinted. “I’d only fill in if you need me to?”
“Yes.” Lyza said quickly.
If Chicot was more of an understudy, that would at least give her more time to learn Lyza’s part in the show, and this would be additional experience she could list on auditions.
It might help Chicot and Elijah get spots at other faires next year.
If she could only half-ass both shows, that would look terrible, but she believed she could manage two performances, especially since the acrobatics in The Pirates Three were intended to be impressive, but not overly complex.
Either way, she needed to talk to Elijah about it first.
“Why though? Why me?” Chicot asked.