See You on the Backlot (6 page)

You don’t need to be quiet, greenie. Come on in. I’ve been up and awake for quite a while now.

What am I doing? Nothing, really. Just sitting in here listening to the midway go at full speed. There’s really nothing like it, you know? I’ve listened to it since I was little and I never get tired of it… and I hope I never do. There’s just nothing like hearing the grind tapes calling people into the single-os, and the live ballys going on one after another for the live shows. Hearing the hydraulics from the rides, almost drowning out the music each of the jocks is playing to bring the rubes to his monkey box. I can hear the
agents pitching their joints and under that the sound of the townies chatting each other up – all lost together in our little world for a bit, huh? And it’s not just the
noises
of the lot – it’s the smells, too. Hot dogs and popcorn and candy floss and other things that I’m not even sure what they are – all mixed together… something sweet… like heaven, almost.

But I’m not out there, am I? No, I’m sitting in here. Just sitting here.

This? It’s a bottle. One of Charlie’s, actually. Don’t worry, he’ll never miss it. I found it along with two other cases full of them under his bed. Being stuck in here has given me plenty of time to look around for all kinds of things. Here, pull that chair over and sit with me a bit. I happen to have this one last clean glass. Besides, if you’re here, it means it’s near the end of the night – because Murphy sent you to check in on me to see how I’m doing.

He always sends someone, that’s how I know. Checking to make sure Charlie
and I haven’t gotten into it while no one else is around. So, sit down, sit down. Have a drink. I never understood before why my da liked having a bottle around… but I think I do, now. A few sips in and suddenly I can see everything in a way I never could before. The stories just keep on coming to me. And it puts me in a way that makes me not miss being out there with the rest of you. Makes being in here by myself seem not so bad. Of course, I’ll feel bad when I wake up tomorrow – but what can you do?

Now, don’t go telling nobody that I found Charlie’s stash, all right? Seriously now. He’ll figure it out soon enough, I suppose. You didn’t think this was the first bottle of his I’ve found my way into, did you?

Ah, Murphy is good to have sent you to look in on me. I know the others have checked to see I was here – but no one ever came in to talk to me. Did I ever tell you how he came to be with the show, Murphy? No? Well then, you should definitely have a sip while we cut the jackpot! That’s right! You
haven’t gotten to do that since you came on the road with us, have you?

It all started a long time ago – that’s how all good stories start out, don’t they? Anyway, I’m not sure what sent Charlie and my mum out to start a Ten-in-One show. I don’t even know if my mum really had her heart set on making it happen. And Charlie being a doctor or something – it almost doesn’t make sense to trade that off for the risk of a show. But, for whatever reason, they got a top, grabbed some performers, and started on the circuit to be ‘with it’.

Not exactly sure how badly they were doing right from the start. But, from what Murphy has told me, in the beginning it was not going at all well. Not only were the two of them just simple Firsts of May, but I guess they brought along a green crew, too. And as for Charlie… Some of the carnies told me he thought he was just too good to listen to advice from anyone. Of course, from what I’ve seen of carnies and showmen, probably no one was too quick to offer any help to him, either. Gave him
just enough rope to hang himself, I’ll bet, and all the while keeping their eyes on the fancy equipment they hoped to buy off him cheap at the end of the season (assuming he made it that long)!

Now this whole time I’m just a babe in arms, right? Like, really a baby – in a diaper and blanket with my bottle the whole time – that’s how little I am. And my mum is holding on to me while Charlie and his show have one blue date after another. Not making their nut, owing lot fees to the company running the carnival, who now won’t let them leave because they owe them so much, and they’re just racking up costs to add on top of it. I guess just about everyone on the circuit was figuring they’d get a piece of Charlie’s show before it was all over.

So, then, about halfway through the season – and I can just see Charlie out in front doing the bally to no one on a bad spot at the end of the midway – this little guy comes up early in the day, buys a ticket and watches the grind for most of the day. Charlie thought this guy was ‘kicking the
tyres’, that’s how he put it – this little man walking around looking at everything about the show. But he didn’t say anything to anyone, and Charlie tells me he wrote him off as someone looking to buy the show out or something. And Charlie says that at that point – down to a few diapers and no food coming for me anytime soon – he probably would’ve sold to any offer just to make it end.

Then late that night, after all the townies have gone home, Charlie and my mum are sitting at the table doing the books while I slept in a hammock nearby, when there’s a knock on the door. Charlie goes and opens it, and this little man comes in – big as you please – and introduces himself as Murphy. Then, before you know it, he’s sitting at the table with my folks.

Murphy once told me that he realised Charlie was chasing a dream from his childhood – something about the life caught him when he was young and never let go – like he was born with sawdust in his blood and didn’t realise it until he was older.
That seems to be something Murphy can understand.

Whatever they talked about, apparently Murphy and my pops came to some sort of understanding, and my mum was all for it, too. So, as the story goes, Murphy went to the company running the carnival the next morning and had some sort of talk with them on Charlie’s behalf. From that point on, the show got better spots. Not First Call, mind you – that’s the best spot on the midway. No, not right off the bat, anyway – but definitely better spots than before. I guess there had never been enough room to put up the whole banner line before, and now, suddenly, they could find room for Charlie to do everything he had been trying to do. So, of course, the show started bringing in money and doing better. The season may have started out badly, but by the end of it Charlie had made enough to pay the nut and keep the show, plus a little bit to set back for the next season. During the whole down time, Murphy stayed with my folks, and he and Charlie worked on aspects of the show to build it up. Then Murphy hit the road
with them again for the next season, and hasn’t left Charlie’s side since then.

Who was Murphy to do this? Well, if you ask him, he’ll tell you he’s just a simple man from a long line of tinkers. I don’t even know what a tinker is. But, apparently, if he wasn’t one of the original old-timers, he was brought up by one of them – Big Mike says it’s almost like he’s a hundred years old with all he knows, but he has the energy of a two year old. Murphy seems to know everyone, new or worn, young or old, who’s on the circuit. That’s why he was able to help Charlie get a fair shake from the carnival companies. Within a few years – by this point I was performing with the show, too – Murphy introduced Charlie to Big Mike, and we’ve been on one of his lots ever since.

Murphy taught me just about every act that I do. He taught me how to escape from a straightjacket while hanging upside down, how to tear a telephone book in half like it was nothing, and – most importantly – the skills to be a talker. He taught me other
things, too: how to hang a banner line, how to be an A&S Man (the age and scale racket – you know, the game where you guess the rube’s age or weight) and how to juggle the ride brake so the chumps think they’re having a good time while what you’re really doing is shaking the change right out of their pockets!

Not that Charlie’s any slouch with that stuff either, mind you! He didn’t go into this racket blind – no, sir. Murphy told me once that Charlie has more put away about the business than he could have ever known. I don’t know about that – but it was Pops who taught me to breathe a fountain of flame, turn a tip, and the importance of having a shill. He’s also the one who taught me to read an angry crowd to see if they’re going to cause a clem – that’s a big fight – and watch the weather for a
blowdown
. And Charlie still schools me every day in reading and maths. I couldn’t check the receipts nightly if he hadn’t taught me bookkeeping. Of course, right now, that’s the only time we talk.

It’s lonely just sitting in here, son, I’ll tell you that for nothing. But that’s the deal Murphy and Charlie cut with Big Mike to stay on the circuit after I mixed it up with Delilah’s father in the cook shack. I guess the blame was flying around and everybody was ready to beef – but no one with any sense wants to bring in the local sheriff. After all, there are always some carnies who need to avoid the law, if they can. So I have to stay in here, separated from everyone for a bit. Charlie brings me some meals from the cook shack, or makes sure I eat from some cans here. Murphy takes time to check up on me now and again. But I haven’t seen anyone else… not really.

Murphy told me that this was Big Mike’s decision, because Delilah’s father was bloodied up but didn’t come off too badly. That’s what he said, anyway… but I know he might have been hiding the truth. After all, he’s the one who taught me how to fight – how to defend myself from a townie in a clem, or knock out a drunk who loses control. Besides, if I hadn’t put some hurting on him, would those other carnies have jumped into
the fight, sucker punching me from behind? I don’t think so.

Do you like that stuff? Here, let me pour you some more. I got something else to tell you…

Just now, I lied when I told you I haven’t really seen anyone else. See, being stuck in the trailer is hard for anyone – but particularly for me. I need my freedom, son, that’s what I’m saying. So one night, well after the show was dark and everyone should have been done – and Charlie had been snoring away like a good drunk for nearly an hour – I snuck out to take a walk around the lot.

I swear to you, I wasn’t planning any trouble. I certainly didn’t want anyone to see me – I’ve got enough trouble as it is! So, I made sure to avoid the living lot (though, when I walked an aisle over, I saw that Mutt and Jeff seemed to be keeping watch at the gate to the back yard), and kept myself to the parking lots and front end. It was late… and I mean,
late
. Hardly
a peep from anyone. So it was easy to hear the security walking their rounds of the lot, and avoid them. Well you can imagine my surprise as I was making my way back through – because I decided to make sure our banner line was still fine and can’t trust Charlie to do it – and I heard voices coming from inside our joint.

Anyone else, greenie, and they never would have heard anything. But, me? I guess I was already so much on edge trying to keep from getting caught, I was paying extra attention to everything.

Now, it seemed to me that whoever was in our joint had gone to a lot of trouble not to be heard. I couldn’t see any lights from inside and could only hear a murmur of voices, without being able to tell what they were saying. So I figured it was an inside job – especially if Murphy and Charlie had tied the place down like they usually do. But then I thought that if Charlie was on a tear or anything, who knows what could be going on in there?

So I snuck up, nice and quiet. A quick check of a couple of entrances showed it was tied up tight from the inside, so I went around to where I knew there was a place in the canvas that couldn’t be seen from inside, and used my knife to cut a slit, big enough to let me in. I knew Charlie would be steamed about it – even if he didn’t know I did it – but if something was wrong it’d be worth it. Besides, I knew it would probably be me who’d have to sew it back up.

I got inside without hearing anyone raise an alarm, and found myself just where I thought I’d be: behind some of the big wooden crates we use for storage. Now the voices were louder, I could tell there was a group of people in there, but I couldn’t tell what they were talking about. Real
quiet-like
I snuck around the side to peak out and see what was going on.

You can imagine my surprise to see just about the whole show in there, greenie. I mean,
you
weren’t there, but I could see Jerry and Travis, along with Sharon, Bettie and Abdul. I saw one of the other canvas
men too, plus a couple of shadowy shapes I wasn’t sure of. Maybe the half-and-half and her boyfriend or something. Like I said, I couldn’t tell. They were crowded up in the pit, with just a single light in the centre of the ring, like it was a campfire they’d all sat around to sing songs or something.

And standing there in front of them was Frank. Yeah, Frank… the guy I brought in to replace Sam. He’s standing there like he owns the place and he’s addressing them like he’s the almighty Grand Pooba of the Masonic Lodge or something. I couldn’t hear much of what the others were saying – but I could hear exactly what
he
was saying.

He was saying, ‘I’m just telling you, I’ve seen this kind of thing before. Don’t forget that I’ve been with this show before, too. I know what Charlie is really like. I know what he’s capable of doing, and you wouldn’t like it if I told you the truth. And now what? We’re supposed to be worried about his kid?’

There was some grumbling from the group, and it looked like Travis was
arguing with someone, when Frank busted out, again, ‘I’m talking about a kid who just attacks random people with no provocation. I’m talking about a kid who thinks he’s running this joint, but he can’t even do his own stunts without getting hurt. He goes walking around here thinking he’s better than everyone else… Just like Charlie does!’ Now he was getting really riled up. ‘Yeah, you heard what I said. If you don’t think that old Charlie Grice with his “family history with the circus” and his fancy degrees from some fancy colleges, doesn’t look down on you lot, you got another thing coming!’

‘You try asking him about how the show’s doing,’ Frank continued. ‘Try asking him for an advance on your pay. Ask him if he’s gonna make next week’s payroll! That’s how you’ll get your answer, just like I did.’