Spring bore down upon them like a starving hawk. The lot at
McCrae's was swiftly filled with the buzz and bustle of a circus getting
ready to move. Hammers, saws, the rumble of trucks interspersed with the
calls of the animals, the shouts of acrobats in training, the whirr of
ropes as the aerialists dove. Occasionally there would be a small explosion
as one of Dooley's clowns tested out a gag.
Opening day was near. Lekya wasn't ready, of course, the tigers
were still pretty green. But had an opening day ever found him ready? Not
in almost a half a century. "Is tradition," he'd say to Sasha, "Day I'm
ready is day world ends."
Sasha, the consummate professional, was always ready. He showed no
sympathy.
"Oh, you think it so easy, you try train these dull brutes. You try!"
Sasha yawned as if to say, "That's your job. I was hired for my looks."
They had worked hard, both of them, but the thrill of being back
under the big top had given them the energy of troupers half their ages; so
it was also with the other old-timers, Dooley, Dietrich, even old Buck
Trumbull. And the younger performers were giving it their all as well;
either the "kids" had absorbed the example of their elders or they had been
shamed into it; either way, McCrae's circus was absolutely at a pinnacle of
panache and pizzazz. Anyone who came to see it would walk away saying to
themselves, "Now that was a Circus!"
If anyone came to see it.
Jake McCrae was nervous, there was no denying it. He'd sunk a
boatload of cash into the project, and even though he said he could afford
it, they all knew that nobody could ever afford to take this big of a bath.
Still, there was enough of his old man in him so that Lekya knew that it
wasn't the money that was keeping the young man awake nights; it was the
thought of all these people who were working so hard to make this show the
best it could be humiliated, playing before empty, anemic houses.
Most of the old-timers remembered what it was like in the
seventies. Playing before an empty tent, the lost-sounding applause of the
few people whose love for the circus was undimmed and who came to see their
ragged mud show, scattered drips of rain where once there was thunder.
Those were grim times. No one wanted to re-live them. No one wanted to go
out on such a pathetic note. Everyone wanted a triumph, a re-birth, not a
wake.
Lekya was confident, however. Jake's idea made sense; nostalgia
would get them in the seats, even if it was nostalgia for a time that most
of the audience didn't remember, for the circus that their grandparents
knew. That nostalgia would bring them in the door. And this circus would
keep them there.
"We keep them on the edge of seats, Sasha. You look fiercer than
ever. Give me a roar." Lekya snapped his fingers, giving Sasha the "Roar!"
cue, though often he thought that Sasha needed no cues, that Sasha and he
had developed that instinctive psychic link that evolves between long-time
partners.
Sasha let loose with a medium-sized roar... not a cringe-inducing
bleacher-rattler, but impressive nonetheless. He was feeling a bit lazy
today, Lekya could tell. Still, he knew that there would be no holding
Sasha back once he got before an audience.
Soon enough, Sasha; soon enough.
"Hey, Hey, Hey Lekya!" a voice cried, in a silly sort of wobble. It was Dooley, his face all done up in his trademarked diamond-eyed clown makeup.
"Hey hey Dooley," Lekya replied, grinning. "Whas' with the make-up?"
"I'm giving the gang a little dress-rehearsal. Some of 'em are a little green, donÕt know that the glare off the makeup can affect your sight, hurt your timing. Better they find out now than opening night. 'Sides, it just feels great to slop all this grease on my face again!"
"Must be comfortable on hot day like today."
"Hey hey, I'm an old man, this feels great! Keeps the heat in me body where it belongs."
"And the air outta your pores."
"You get it! Hope we aren't gonna find you wearing one of your cats again."
"I'm old man too, but still donÕt like the heat. My people come from Carpathians, hardly Sun Belt. Cats are hot. They can keep to own side of cage, thank you."
"IrelandÕs not exactly Tijuana, either, but I like a good sauna just fine, thanks."
"Not Tijuana? Way I hear it, Ireland is like Heaven, only nicer."
"And not so much riff-raff. Hey hey, so how's it working with the new cats? Sasha getting along okay?"
"TheyÕre lazy, sneaky, and surly. Totally tigers. A great bunch. Sasha tolerates 'em all."
"Any surprises in the act this year?"
"You mean like Lekya juggles tigers while riding tricycle? Come on, clownie, Lekya's old enough to be grandpa twice over back in old country. I'm gonna get 'em to jump a few hoops, dance a bit, then it's back to the trailer for a nice nap."
"Aww, poor ol' Grampa. I've got a whole slew of new tricks and tumbles. 'Course, it's the new kids that are gonna be takin' 'em, but, hey, I thought 'em up."
"Ooh, hard work for clownie. Thinking up stuff for other people to do - Irish workout."
"Hahaha!" Dooley shook his head, still laughing. "If the lion taming thing doesn't work out for ya, Lekkie, you and Sasha should give standup comedy a whack!"
"Sasha don't know enough four letter words."
"I bet he does. Don'cha kitty? Bet you swear like a sailor when daddy's not around." Dooley looked away from the cat to Lekya. "He probably smokes, too."
"Ahh, IÕm making him cut back."
"Very wise. So, whattdy'a think about this protest, huh?"
Lekya arched an eyebrow. "Protest?"
Dooley's eyes widened in an exaggerated innocence. "Oops. Did I say protest? There's no protest. And you didn't hear that from me."
"What are they protesting?"
"You didnÕt hear anything from me! But if there were a protest, which I did not say there was, it would possibly have something to do with 'Animal Rights'."
Lekya slapped the side of his head. "What kinda crap is this? We got the best treated animals in the business!"
"You better talk to Jake, Lekya. I'll check in with you later."
"Damn right I will! Thanks for info - which you didn't give me!"
"No problemo. Hey hey!"
"Hey hey."
Lekya watched Dooley scamper off in his enormous shoes, then turned to Sasha and shook his head disgustedly.
"Whas' this about some damn protest?" Lekya demanded of Jake McCrae.
Jake looked up from his desk at the large gypsy. He drew in a long weary breath. "I'd hoped you wouldn't find out, Lekya."
"I'm Gypsy blood! I find out everything!"
"Meaning Dooley told you. Clowns should have to be silent out of the ring as well as in. Well, you'd have found out sooner or later, especially if we get picketed."
"Picketed! Whas' this happy crap?"
"They've threatened to picket us unless we 'Cease the cruel and undignified display of animals in unnatural and demeaning exhibitions'."
"What!?!"
"I didnÕt write it, I'm just reporting. Read it for yourself."
Jake handed Lekya a piece of paper. Lekya looked at it. It was a neatly typed letter from "The Benevolent Embrace of Animal Respect", who had a Suite address and a professionally designed logo, the acronymous bear of their title holding what appeared to be an olive branch in his mouth. Some money here, all right.
"Rich people with nothing better to do than make life harder for working joe. Phhm!"
"That's kinda my impression as well."
Lekya scanned the text quickly. It was just as Jake had said, though stretched out to fill the page. He tossed the paper onto the desk, then fell back into a nearby chair, which protested creakily. "So, what we gonna do?"
Jake leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his fingers folded into an intertwined spidery formation. "I don't believe thereÕs anything we can do. Just ride it out, like we would any storm."
Lekya shook his head. "Not like storm. Storm can destroy you, wipe you out. But never to prove a point. Never personal."
"Human storms can be like that. You know. Malicious."
Lekya nodded. He scowled, and thought. Then he slapped his palm against the armrest of his chair. "Must be something we can do!" He picked up the sheet of paper. "Is phone number here. Talk reason!"
Jake smiled. "A jump ahead of you, Lekya. I called them earlier."
Lekya gave him a sidelong glance. "And?"
"What did you expect? They heard me out, agreed, and we aren't having this conversation now? "
"Would be nice, yes."
"Yes, it would. Well, they were quite reasonable, very polite, and absolutely adamant. WouldnÕt give an inch. See, they believe what weÕre doing is 'evil', pure and simple. It's a religious thing for them; animals are pure, and anyone who 'corrupts' them, and they define 'corrupt' very loosely, is evil. And you canÕt argue someone out of a religious conviction. The devil's not gonna convince the pope that Jesus needs a haircut."
"Bah, people change religions like raincoats around here. I convince 'em IÕm pope. they come around."
Jake grinned slyly. "I'm kind of glad you see it that way, Lekya. See, the way I look at it is, they can picket all they like as long as no one's gonna listen to 'em. As long as people will look at 'em, shake their heads, and stroll on up to the ticket window, we can beat 'em."
"You have, for this, a plan?"
"Sort of. Ever wanted to be on TV, Lekya?"