Chapter 7 #2
Her thoughts were confirmed when they got backstage, and Monty and Elvis clapped Chicot on the back and congratulated her.
They both told her how well she’d done, and she looked for wavers in their grins or sneers in their words, but she didn’t find any.
Monty especially made a point to stop her and tell her that she would only improve, which made the whole thing feel even more genuine.
Chicot hadn’t been perfect, but they hadn’t been hoping for that.
It eased her mind, and her show with Elijah went off without a hitch. Their second shows went even better, the pirates really coming together as Chicot reminded herself that she was trying to be present, not perfect.
After her second show with Elijah, there was time on the schedule for them to all eat, and then they were released into the faire to advertise.
Lyza took over when walking around with a sign with the times that The Pirates Three: Big, Middle, and Wee were on stage, while Chicot carried her own for The Bard the one who played the music for Brewhilda’s show.
Chicot only recognized her because she wore a headband with a mini witch’s hat on her head.
She had her eyes on a crowd that looked riveted by whatever gossip she had.
“To replace someone in a tried-and-true act with someone so green.” The woman shook her head slightly. “And those cheerleading moves they’re using? What are they trying to do? Make the pirate show appeal more to the normies?”
The group laughed, and Chicot tried not to turn her gaze toward them.
It wasn’t worth it, like the girls on the cheerleading squad who had thought she’d gotten on because the coach pitied her or the football players who would jeer at her whenever she’d rejected them, calling her a lesbian like it was an insult.
Chicot didn’t need to rise to this. She was better than this. Chicot knew that for certain.
“I doubt they’re trying to appeal to anyone specific. They’re still doing a pirate show. They can’t be following the trends.” Brewhilda’s voice was slick and cool. “If I had to guess, they replaced Lyza because she’s done something stupid, like get pregnant.”
This caused a series of gasps, and Chicot finally broke, glancing over her shoulder at them.
There was a wave of whispers, all of them leaning toward each other, asking questions, each of them trying to confirm if anyone had any evidence of whether or not Lyza was really out of the show because she was pregnant.
As they did this, Brewhilda’s lip curled, her bright blue eyes moving from the group to Chicot.
Chicot put her water bottle under the spigot, pressing the button and watching it fill, training her face so that it was blank, like she hadn’t heard anything.
“Shame on you.” The voice was sharp and low in tone, coming from Ken the sausage stand man of all people, the bedazzled sausage on the front of his tunic sparkling slightly.
He sat at the picnic table next to Brewhilda’s group, his face twisted in disgust and his brow furrowed low over his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be gossiping about things like someone being pregnant. ”
Chicot met Ken’s eyes, a knot forming in her stomach.
She should have said something. They were her friends.
Pretending to be above all of this didn’t really help.
She knew that. But Ken was there. She was no longer alone.
If only she had something good to say. She stepped away from the water cooler, moving toward towards Ken’s table because that felt safer than approaching Brewhilda’s.
“Damn, even the sausage stand guy has better morals than all of you,” Chicot said.
Ken’s eyes bulged as she said it, and for a moment, Chicot felt her heart hammering in her ears.
The group surrounding Brewhilda clammed up as Brewhilda’s nostrils flared, her elbows going out wide as she slammed her hands on the table.
It made Chicot jump, but she continued walking towards Ken.
“If she can’t perform, their show should be cut and replaced with the next available,” Brewhilda snapped. “That’s what other faires do. That’s why we’re talking about it.”
Ken’s eyes went from Brewhilda to Chicot, wide and brown, his lips pressed into a tight “O”.
Chicot’s stomach turned, a shiver running down her back, and she said the only thing she could think of.
She couldn’t be too mouthy, as she didn’t know what kind of connections at other faires Brewhilda had.
If she wasn’t careful, this could ruin everything for her and Elijah.
“That isn’t very punk rock of you.” It sounded so goddamn stupid as it came out of her mouth. “Favoring cutthroat competition between performers and tearing down other women.”
There, that sounded better. She wasn’t sure it entirely made sense, but she knew one thing: Brewhilda used a medieval punk sound in all of her shows, and even if Chicot wasn’t usually one to call out posers, if Brewhilda used that—which even Chicot had to admit was pretty fun—she should at least adhere to some of the morals and politics associated.
After all, Brewhilda ran around talking about how much she liked punk music, but it wasn’t very punk to shit talk other women down for getting pregnant or doing better than her.
Chicot was pretty sure she said the right thing when Ken smiled at her.
He then turned to Brewhilda, his brows nearly in his hairline, goading her into saying anything further.
Brewhilda ground her teeth so hard, Chicot swore she could hear it.
She then hissed about needing to make her next show and stood up.
Chicot took that as her chance to stop next to Ken’s table, her fingers trembling as she tried not to completely panic.
If Brewhilda didn’t hate her already, she certainly did now, and even if Chicot felt righteous air fill her lungs and puff up her chest, she was still afraid of the consequences of what she’d just done.
But The Pirates Three had to have more sway than Brewhilda.
They could probably help if Brewhilda tried to add her to some sort of blacklist.
After she finished her water, she pulled her mask from her belt. Before she could get it on, Ken was at her side, his reddish-brown skin shiny from the layer of sweat none of them could escape and his full lips turned up.
“That was, and I don’t say this often, amazing.” Ken patted her on the back. “Good job.”
Chicot curled in on herself, her lips quivering. She was safe. No one could see them at this point. “It didn’t sound stupid?”
“Eh, a little.” Ken shrugged. “But you were right and she couldn’t refute that.”
“Thanks.” Chicot smiled, “Uh, Ken, right?”
Ken nodded. “That’s me.”
“Is she always like that?” Chicot asked. Ken laughed, shrugging his shoulders.
“I don’t know, but she doesn’t tip when she gets food from any of the vendors here, so take that as you will.
” Ken smiled, his cheeks round and soft and his eyes a pretty, almost perfect oval shape.
Wide by the bridge of his nose and tapered at the ends with long eyelashes.
She could see when Elijah liked him so much.
He was handsome with a soft jawline and chubby cheeks that exuded happiness.
Chicot couldn’t help but grin back at him, nodding.
“Noted,” Chicot said. “And thanks for the help.”
“No problem.” Ken winked. “Always happy to be the sausage stand guy with good morals.”
Chicot laughed, falling forward slightly. “Not a bad thing to be.”
“Not at all,” Ken said. “Have a good rest of your day, okay? Stay hydrated.”
“You too.” Chicot smiled. Ken then paused, sheepishly adjusting his sparkly tunic.
“Oh, uh, and do you and Elijah maybe want to come to a party next Sunday night?” he asked. “I was hoping Elijah would go. It might be better if you ask him about it.”
“I think it would go fine if you asked him,” Chicot said. This seemed to shock but also excite Ken. “But I’ll let him know. Who else will be there? Mostly food vendors or … ?”
“I invited a lot of the performers too.” Ken waved at the table where Brewhilda and crew had been sitting. “Not them.”
Chicot tapped her toe on the ground. “Monty, Lyza, and Elvis?”
“Yeah.” Ken confirmed. “And there’s a pool. Monty said she’s excited to swim. I can send you the address if you’re interested.”
“Oh good.” Chicot wasn’t even sure why he called out Monty specifically, but she did think Monty would be cute in a swimsuit.
Her mind also brought her directly to thoughts of seeing Monty’s very …
nice chest on display. Chicot wanted to see her cleavage again.
She should probably try to learn some shame before next weekend.
“So, you and Elijah will be there?” Ken asked.
“I’m sure we will. Text the address to Elijah though.
I don’t have a phone.” Chicot smiled, and Ken excitedly confirmed, telling her how good that was and how he was excited.
He then realized he was five minutes over on his break and literally ran away from her.
She just put her mask back on and headed for the stage.