Chapter 9 #3
“No, I think she’s been texting you?” Elvis didn’t really sound sure of himself. Chicot sighed softly, rubbing her temple.
“That’s not possible since I don’t have a number.” Chicot stood up, setting a hand on her hip as she looked down at Elvis. Well, as down as she could. Even when he was sitting and she was standing, she didn’t really have much height advantage.
“But she said you, not Elijah.” Elvis pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Maybe I misunderstood. You should ask her.”
That would be the adult and logical thing to do.
But Chicot was still nervous. She didn’t know what she wanted with Monty, and while she wanted to clear up any accidental insult her supposed nonresponse had caused, she also didn’t want to string Monty along.
Of course, Chicot hadn’t been outright flirting with Monty.
She had been playful and at times complimentary, but that didn’t mean …
Well, she didn’t know what it didn’t mean, and that was exactly the problem.
Chicot needed to be sure before anything went further with Monty, but she also needed to know if Elijah was intentionally blocking her from speaking with her.
“Thanks, Elvis,” Chicot said. “Umm, maybe don’t mention this conversation to her until I can talk to Elijah?”
Elvis held up his palms. “I’m already meddling more than I meant to. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
A chuckle broke out of Chicot’s lips, running her hands through her hair. If it was a release of stress or frustration, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, it came out of her, and it caused Elvis to grimace.
“I am sorry.” Elvis rubbed the back of his head. “I usually try not to fuck with things like this.”
Chicot drooped. “It’s okay.”
She wasn’t mad at Elvis, just confused and a little hurt, and none of those things were Elvis’s fault. Chicot could understand why Elijah might have wanted Chicot to stay unattached, especially from other performers. But still, this was low if it was true.
“I’ll see you around?” Elvis asked.
“Yeah, see you. And thanks again, Elvis.” Chicot started to walk back around the faire grounds, waving at him as she went. He waved back, his hand loose and fingers not fully open. He was relaxed, which was nice to see.
When Chicot got back to the RV, she had lost all nerve about asking Elijah directly what was going on with the texts and if it had been some sort of misunderstanding.
It didn’t help that when she walked in, Elijah was snoring loudly, and therefore Chicot had a good out for not bothering him.
The next morning, however, she knew she had to spit it out.
Mostly because Elijah immediately noticed something was weird with her, staring at her expectantly while they stood in their kitchen, eating their cereal.
“Okay.” His voice was low, cracking slightly at the edges since this was the first time he’d spoken since waking. “What’s going on, CoCo?”
He rarely called her that. Usually, it was only when he was genuinely worried about her.
Like the time she’d had an allergic reaction to the laundry detergent they’d bought at Dollar Tree and had broken out in hives, only to then refuse to go to the ER.
She’d been fine and had just needed some Allegra.
Chicot stood by that choice. It had saved them thousands of dollars, and she’d only suffered for about twenty-four hours.
“Have you been …” Chicot wasn’t sure how to ask, sighing as she set her cereal bowl on the counter. She didn’t want to accuse him of anything, but she didn’t see any other way. “Has an unknown number been texting you and saying it’s for me?”
Elijah’s nose scrunched, his spoon halfway to his mouth as he paused. “What? No, I don’t think so.”
He pulled out his phone immediately, looking at his text logs and then any that had been sorted into spam. Elijah shrugged, showing Chicot the messages.
“Why?” he asked. Chicot took his phone, looking the messages over slowly.
This unfortunately meant she caught the tail end of whatever sexting was happening between Elijah and Ken, but the relief was worth the mild disgust. The tension even released from her shoulders.
They’d been practically against her ears since Elvis had first mentioned this the night before.
“Nothing, I think Monty just has the wrong phone number.” Chicot handed back his phone, rubbing her head. “Elvis said something about me not responding to her texts.”
“Weird.” Elijah picked his spoon back up, shoveling more Cheerios into his mouth. “But yeah, probably has the wrong number.”
He shrugged, chewing on his breakfast as Chicot picked hers back up. She needed to eat.
Chicot nodded. “Anyway, now that we’ve cleared that up—”
“Why do you say that like it was more of a problem than you were letting on?” Elijah asked. Chicot ignored it.
“Guess who has a pantomime lesson with Sunnie next week?” Chicot set her hands on her hips, straightening her back, chin up, and beaming. Elijah perked up.
“Wait, like, Sunnie as in Sunnie the Spectacular?” Elijah asked. Chicot grinned, trying not to spill her cereal as she did.
“He caught me before I went on my walk last night,” Chicot said, “and wound up offering.”
“That’s amazing, Chicot!” Elijah lowered his empty bowl, dropping his spoon in it, his big brown eyes wide with excitement. “I actually have something cool to share with you too.”
“I know!” Chicot nearly squealed, but she managed to contain it. Instead, she hopped. “What’s your show and tell?”
Elijah laughed, throwing his head back as he nudged her shoulder and he set his dishes in the sink. “Randy and May invited me to help with some new music for their Dungeons & Dragons themed show they’re working on.”
Randy and May both had their own individual performances, but also did a show together that involved rolling a large d20 and improvising music based on crowd input. Lyza had introduced them to Chicot and Elijah on opening day, and Elijah had been practicing with them on and off ever since.
“Really? That’s great, Elijah.” Chicot set her bowl in the sink and took both his hands in hers, the two of them shaking each other for a minute.
“Yeah!” Elijah nodded vigorously. “Now, we just have to get another audition.”
“And we will,” Chicot said, but her chest tightened with it. They’d already missed out on Pennsylvania and Georgia, and even Michigan. She knew she couldn’t linger on it, but it crept up into the back of her throat no matter what she did.
“And we will.” Elijah clutched Chicot’s hands, his fingers trembling slightly.
Neither of them acknowledged it because it felt like if they did, it would make their fears a reality.
Elijah’s mother would probably tell them to pray in the genuine way that a good Christian would.
She’d told them she’d prayed for them to get the spot at Albion and had been so excited for them when they’d landed it that Chicot had a hard time feeling off put by the statement.
It was different than when her mother had said that.
Probably because whenever her mother had done it, it had been to change something about Chicot, not in hopes God would somehow help her succeed at something.
Either way, as she and Elijah continued to share their excitement about their new projects and lessons, Chicot couldn’t help but think about their next audition.
The faires that didn’t already have a lineup of performers were rapidly approaching auditions, and if they didn’t get one, Chicot didn’t know what that meant for them.
Maybe they needed someone to write a letter of recommendation?
She didn’t even know if faires did that, but Elvis had said they now had a reference.
She wondered if he’d meant from The Pirates Three or the directors at Albion.
Chicot would have to ask Elvis, so she put that on her list. They couldn’t sustain themselves just on birthday parties either.
They didn’t pay well, nor were they consistent enough to support them.
She couldn’t go back to the gas station, even if it was only for the off season, so they’d have to do something.