Chapter 9
It was over a hundred degrees, and as such, most of the dog park were hiding in their air conditioning.
It was Tuesday, so it wasn’t like anyone had to work, and those who took the chance to film content or practice had left and come back already.
Her and Elijah had finished The Hound of the Baskervilles halfway through the day, leaving them with even less to do than normal.
Chicot played with Duchess until the cat grew bored and refused to chase anything, and Elijah tuned his lute over and over until he couldn’t anymore.
Finally, once the sun had been down for a while, they started to hear people outside.
Some lit fires, sitting around them in small groups and chatting as they drank cans of beer or from red Solo cups.
Chicot herself had been sipping a very fake margarita during dinner that Elijah had made with a mix and some awful tequila they’d had lying around.
It had been the last of their bad alcohol at least. If they wanted any more this week, they’d have to drink the good stuff.
Chicot stepped out of the cool RV interior to find the soupy air still angry and assaulting anyone standing in it for too long.
She picked up the bug spray they kept on a small ledge under the attached sunshade of their RV and sprayed herself down, the caustic smell making her cough and debate whether getting bitten was maybe worth it.
“Hey, little jester friend!” The voice rose from a few RVs away, a small group of older performers sitting around a fire pit that was putting out more smoke than fire. It probably kept the mosquitos away, which was for the best. “Come here a moment!”
Chicot’s eyes wandered over the group in the dim glow of the string lights until she realized where the voice was coming from.
Her fingertips began to tingle as she pointed at herself, slowly walking toward the performers, who grinned brightly at her.
In the dark, it was hard for her to tell who was calling her over, and the thought of getting one of their names wrong or mixing them up with someone else made her skin crawl worse than the bug spray.
She could feel every bit of fabric she was wearing as she was approaching, a layer of sweat forming on her skin that wasn’t just due to the heat.
“Yes, you!” the one who’d called to her confirmed, waving for Chicot to join them.
She only realized who was speaking to her once she got closer.
The red bandana around Sunnie’s head seemed, thankfully for her, to be a universal constant.
He wore it in all his shows, and really all the time.
Even when Chicot had seen Sunnie perform when she’d been a kid, he’d had a similar bandana wrapped around his head.
The ladies were harder for Chicot, none of them wearing anything particularly identifiable right off the bat.
Sunnie gestured to a red camp chair. Chicot sat and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. They were not likely about to lecture her about the fact that her and Elijah took Brewhilda’s spot. And Chicot was certain when Sunnie started to introduce everyone.
Two of the women were in the infamous Laundry Ladies show, which had a lot of crowd work in it, and an equally infamous older woman whose performance involved poetry and tea.
She’d been at Albion for decades, and there weren’t many people as old as her performing either.
Regardless, they were all so open to Chicot, waving excitedly as Sunnie introduced them, all of them with drinks in hand as Sunnie offered Chicot a cold can of beer.
“Umm, thank you.” Chicot offered Sunnie a polite smile, unsure what to do with herself. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Sunnie this closely before. In fact, she had only ever seen him off stage in passing. But she’d been enamored ever since.
He still wore his hair roughly the same, with long bangs in his face that he used the bandana to keep in check.
Sunnie grinned back at her, his smile splitting his rich terracotta skin and making his round cheeks more pronounced.
He had large, dark brown eyes and black hair with edges of gray here and there, sections slowly turning with age.
His voice had a nice tenor, though it was strange to hear him talk since he didn’t speak at all during his shows.
He whistled and pantomimed, but still spoke to the audience more effectively than anyone who used words.
Chicot wanted to be just like him. She’d practiced pantomime alone in her room for hours when she’d been a kid.
She’d used it to make the other cheerleaders laugh, and she did it whenever they were at children’s birthday parties.
It only occurred to her right then and there that she’d managed to really “make it,” as they said.
She was now doing an act where she didn’t say a word on stage at the Albion Renaissance Faire.
When had she celebrated that? She should do something special.
“Of course, Chicot.” Sunnie sipped his drink. “We just wanted to speak with you since you and Elijah are so new.”
Chicot hadn’t expected him to know her name. She couldn’t help but grin genuinely as he said it, a glow starting to come from her chest, making her sit straighter.
“Yes, and you two are so funny!” one of the Laundry Ladies added. The other agreed.
“It’s always exciting when the new hires are so talented,” Sunnie said. “And of course, us clowns have to stick together.”
He nudged Chicot’s arm gently, and it rocked her as if she were an unsecured fence post. Sheepish, Chicot held her can of beer with both hands.
The layer of nervous sweat on her was dissipating, in favor of a soft, bright sense of security she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Goose bumps rose on her arms, her eyes glancing over the other performers surrounding her. This felt good.
“Thank you,” Chicot said. “That means a lot to me.”
The four older performers all shared a rosy look.
“You should be really proud,” the older woman encouraged. It was so strange to see her without her hat full of trinkets on.
“What made you start?” the second of the Laundry Ladies asked.
“Oh, well.” Chicot rubbed the side of her neck, looking down at her feet. None of them commented on her fidgeting, which settled Chicot. “Sunnie, actually. I saw you when I was a kid and just decided this was for me.”
Sunnie flipped his hair back, his chin high as he said, “You have good taste.”
The first of the Laundry Ladies swatted his arm gently, a laugh coming out of her. Sunnie laughed just as much, and for a moment, Chicot pictured her and Elijah like this. Older, happy, still in the faire circuit. It sounded good. They just needed to get into more faires.
“Also,” Sunnie started. “I’m curious how you wound up in The Pirates Three.”
“Well …” Chicot wasn’t sure what she could say about Lyza’s pregnancy, as she wasn’t telling people widely yet. Squinting, Chicot tried to think of a way to put it. “Well, Lyza couldn’t perform and they needed help. So, when they asked me, it just seemed like the right thing to do.”
That felt diplomatic enough, however, the looks the four much older performers exchanged after she’d said it made her shiver with nerves.
The fire let off a good amount of light, so she could see them all clearly, but their expressions were hard for her to read now.
As the buzzing of AC units filled her ears, she feared she’d said too much or too little, or maybe she’d said the wrong thing entirely.
Her grip on her beer tightened, the can crunching quietly.
“So, you’ve got the most important part of being a performer down already then.” Sunnie slapped her on the back, patting her quickly as she shook. The second Laundry Lady told him to be gentler with Chicot, but they were all grinning now. Chicot couldn’t tell what about.
“Huh?” She was still vibrating from where Sunnie had hit her. Sunnie threw his head back and laughed, nudging her again.
“Community,” Sunnie said. He held his arms out, gesturing at the many RVs and trailers surrounding them. “We’re here to help each other.”
“Oh.” Chicot felt that small sparkle come back to her. Her fingers felt tingly, so she tightened her grip on her can, sitting up straighter as she smiled. “Well, that just seems obvious, right?”
“Not to everyone,” the older woman answered.
Her eyes flickered to an RV, but Chicot couldn’t tell exactly which one.
Chicot bit her lip, thinking of the way Brewhilda had spoken about Lyza.
She was the type that these four didn’t like.
Though, that made Chicot wonder why people had seemed so standoffish to her and Elijah at first. Maybe they hadn’t been.
Maybe Chicot had just been anxious, or maybe they’d been.
Funny, the thought that a bunch of people who earned their living on stage in front of strangers could be so afraid of each other.
“Listen, you’ve got a great show and a good sense for the people to hang out with.” Sunnie set a warm hand on her shoulder. “You can relax. You’re doing good things.”
Chicot’s shoulders went slack, her head turning to truly face Sunnie. “Thanks, Sunnie. I just hope we can keep getting spots at faires.”
Sunnie looked at the three women sitting around the fire with him. “Maybe I can help you? With your pantomiming. We are both silent clowns, after all.”
“Really?” Chicot perked up. The chance to work with Sunnie sounded amazing. It was the kind of dream even her brain couldn’t come up with.
“Yes! I love teaching people who are dedicated, and you obviously are,” he said. “We can start next week. I’ll find a time that works for us to practice in the field. Before the sun is high, of course.”