“You would have.” He stared at the glass in his hands, now empty.
“Want another?” I asked, gesturing to it.
He didn’t answer, just handed it to me.
I went to the sink to refill it, then walked back to the couch. King had grown even paler, and he looked like he might want to get sick. He also seemed uncomfortable, like he didn’t want me there to witness it. I set the glass down on the table and picked up my bag, making a show of looking at my watch.
“Well, I have a few errands to run while I’m in the city, but I’d like to come back later, if it’s all right with you?” I said quietly.
It took him a second to respond as he swallowed thickly. “Yes, yes, it’s all right.”
“Good,” I said, feeling awkward. “I’ll see you later, then.”
He didn’t reply, only nodded. I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and made my way out of the camper. The sun beat down on me, making me feel a little woozy. I walked out of the circus and down a side street to where I’d parked my car. Once I was safely inside, I let my head fall back and exhaled. I hated this. I hated that I had to leave him there to suffer all alone, but I didn’t want him to feel weak in front of me. I knew he’d be humiliated if I saw him being sick.
Once I’d calmed down, I picked up my phone and dialled the house. Karla answered after a couple of rings, and I spent a few minutes talking to her, asking how Oliver was doing. She was good at not prying into how my day had been, and that’s what I needed right then. I needed to not talk about King, because if I did, I’d just end up having another crying jag.
We hung up, and I got out of the car. Taking a walk to a nearby café, I got something to eat, barely even noticing what I ordered since my mind was so elsewhere. I sat outside for a long time, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee and wondering how on earth this was all going to pan out. I’d been gone about three hours when I finally made my way back to the circus. I went to Marina’s camper first, but there was no one there, so I headed in the direction of the gazebo from last night. There were a whole bunch of people milling about, some eating meals, some chatting.
I spotted Jay, Jack, Matilda, and Lille at a table having dinner, and King was sitting by the end of it, drinking a beer. The sight of him with alcohol did a number on me, and my heart somersaulted in my chest. Why on earth were they letting him drink?
Eighteen
I took a few steps forward until I was standing by the table. It was Jack who spotted me first, and he must have seen where my eyes were trained, as he started to explain gruffly, “He can’t go cold turkey. It’ll kill him. The beer is light, good for weaning him off the hard stuff.”
“Oh,” I whispered, suddenly understanding.
“Yeah, remember what happened to that Amy Winehouse?” Matilda piped in. “Such a sad story.”
There was an empty stool beside King, but I hovered, unsure if I was welcome. I locked eyes with Jay, and he shot me a look that said, Stop being an idiot and sit. So I walked around the table and sat. I could feel that King was aware of my presence, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t look. I wondered what he was thinking, wondered if he was still coming to terms with everything I’d told him earlier. Tendrils of unspoken words hung between us. The others chatted a little, but an awkward atmosphere had descended upon the group, and I knew it was down to my arrival. That was why I did what I often did and tried to fill the silence with my own chatter, faking that I was comfortable when really I was the exact opposite.
“So, is there going to be a show tonight?” I asked, forcing a casual tone. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked what you all do here yet.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Lille, her voice gentle. “You’ve had so much else to think about.” I caught her grimace slightly after she said it, like she thought she might have been a little clumsy with her words. I didn’t mind. Not at all. I much preferred clumsy words to silence.
“Well,” Jay began explaining, “Jack and I are both performers. I do illusions, and Jack’s a fire-breather.” He waggled his brows and flashed me a grin. “Real dangerous, like.” Jack rolled his eyes at his brother and took a bite of his chicken. “Lille paints faces for the kiddos, and Matilda here designs the show costumes.” He slung an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
“Well, I’m only really starting out,” Matilda added shyly. “I’ve designed stuff for Jay for a while, so some of the acts are letting me try my hand at creating some designs for them, too.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I work in the industry myself. Well, not in design, but I run a small modelling agency.”
Matilda’s eyes lit up with interest. “Yes, that’s right. Lille told me.”
We chatted for a while about fashion, but the whole time I never really felt at ease. I could sense King watching me intently. I didn’t have the courage to look at him. His fingers were clasped tight around his beer bottle, and I wondered if he felt weird about me being there, trying to fit in with all these strangers who seemed to know him so much better than I did. Well, they knew the man he was now better than I did anyway.
My participation in the conversation died away as I became more and more aware of his attention and presence.
“Hey, Watson, did you get around to mending that shirt for tonight? I need it for the second part of my act,” Jay asked his wife.
“Yep,” Matilda replied. “It’s all done. I left it in the closet for you.”
“Good, I don’t wanna go giving the ladies in the audience another eyeful,” he said, and shot me a playful smile. “Last night I was doing a costume-change skit, and I had a wardrobe malfunction. Cheeky slip of the nip doesn’t even cover it.”
“You definitely gave Janet Jackson a run for her money,” Matilda put in, chuckling.
I laughed and knew Jay had sensed my unease when he sent me a warm expression. That’s why he’d made the joke. I was grateful to him. Lille laughed, too, while Jack smirked and seemed to be supressing another eye roll. I chanced a surreptitious glance at King to find he wasn’t smiling at all. It made my skin prickle. Maybe he didn’t want me there. The thought jolted me, and I suddenly wanted to flee. I picked my bag up off the floor and slung it over my shoulder.
“Well, it’s getting late. I should probably be going. Maybe I could come visit again tomorrow?” The insecurity in my voice was palpable, and I hated how it sounded.
The second I made a move to stand, King’s hand clamped on my wrist. It shocked me, since he’d barely registered my presence, and now he was touching me. The feel of his skin on mine sent a tremor through me, and I looked down at him, seeing a hint of desperation in his eyes. “Don’t go yet,” he said, voice low and pleading.
All of a sudden I realised what had really been going on. He wanted me there; he was just embarrassed and ashamed of how he was, of how I had to leave so quickly earlier so that I wouldn’t witness him throwing up.
I lowered myself back onto the stool, and he let go of my wrist. “Okay, I can stay for another while,” I said quietly.
My eyes remained on King as Lille announced, “We should all start getting ready for tonight’s show. It was great seeing you again, Alexis.”
I nodded to her, smiling, and everybody rose from the table to leave. A few moments later it was just King and me, sitting alone while the circus workers chattered and ate around us. My pores tingled as I felt King’s close attention, his warmth right next to me. All it would take was for me to reach out a few centimetres, and I’d be touching him again. But I didn’t do that because he was still wary, still feral in a way.
“Does my mother know you’ve found me?” he asked, a vulnerability in his voice.
My eyes softened as I whispered, “Not yet,” then spoke a little louder as I cleared my throat. “Do you want me to tell her?”
Some kind of turmoil passed over his features, and he shook his head fervently. “No. I…I don’t want her to see me. Not like this.”