Dressing the House, Paid Off in the Dark

Chapter 11

Adeline spun on the ball of her stockinged right foot on the Nain rug, bending her knee to raise her left foot off the ground so she could twirl whimsically in front of the mounted mirror on the back door to her bathroom. The full circle skirt of her calf length dress and the puffy white crinoline beneath flared out as she moved, and when she stopped, she wiggled her hips a bit to watch the plentiful yardage swish about around her. Boat necked with cap sleeves and an attractive V shaped back, the Klein blue cotton sateen dress was a newer commission Adeline had not yet had the opportunity to wear, and she was pleased to finally have the opportunity to do so. She smoothed her brushed out pin curls and examined her minimal makeup once more, secure in her decision to forego her preferred blood red stage lip paint in favor of an earthy rose lipstick. In an act of deliberate efficiency, she donned her off-white cashmere blend three quarter sleeved cardigan as she stepped into her soft matte black leather ballet flats, pushing on the skirt of her dress to flatten it to make sure the reinforced toes of her stockings were hidden beneath the big leather bows on each shoe. From one of her mother's vases on the kitchenette counter, the other still occupied by Dandy's roses, she retrieved the bouquet she had procured for her hostess from the very same florist from which her flowers had come, shaking it gently over the sink to discard the excess water. She lay it on the counter atop a heavy pink ribbon she had cut from her mother's endless collection of costuming materials, and tied a generous bow around the stems. She donned her gloves, off-white, altered for her comfort, ending at her wrist bones in scalloped trim. She tucked the key to her caravan and her lipstick in the small side pocket of her dress and placed the rather large bouquet in the crook of her arm, retrieving from the counter her other offering, a printed book, also tied with fine, heavy ribbon, red silk, in this case, which she clutched protectively to her chest. Placing both of her gifts in a canvas bag, she slung it over her shoulder and stepped out of her caravan into the afternoon sunshine.

After checking on Max, whose water she had freshened and loaded with enormous chunks of ice before she bathed and dressed, and finding him dozing lazily beneath her caravan, Adeline made her way across camp toward the road, assuming the driver who was coming for her would report to the show's entrance. On her walk, as she expected she might, she encountered Jimmy, clad in his customary blue-black jeans with the cuffs rolled up, perspiration evident in patches of moisture present on his white undershirt.

"Hey! Where ya goin'?" He called, jogging to catch up with her.

"Lunch," she said, slowing her pace a bit to accommodate him, but nevertheless sure of purpose and not intent on pausing.

"Lookin' awful fancy for the cookhouse," he remarked, with a raise of his eyebrows and a crooked, mischievous grin.

"And I'm sure you've already surmised that I'm not going to the cookhouse," Adeline said, slight disapproval in her tone, that he would approach a topic so circuitously as opposed to simply asking where she was having lunch. Truth to tell, he had in fact asked her where it was that she was going, and she had avoided the question to begin with, but she hoped in turn to avoid another lecture, and by remaining slightly evasive, once pressed, she could explain that she was refraining from offering details, that he might himself refrain from opining, once more, on the subject of Dandy Mott.

"I have. Look...I already told you what I think of this whole thing, bu-"

Adeline interjected before he could go on "And I thank you for your input and your concern, assuming we're even talking about the same thing, and if I need your help I'll be certain to ask you...."

Jimmy sighed, interjecting himself, raising his left hand to brush a stray curl away from his forehead "...you think I should stay out of it."

Adeline shook her head. "I think you should trust my judgment."

"How can I argue with that?" Jimmy asked, giving her a warm, wry smile.

Adeline smiled in return, "I suggest you don't. A patron like this....." she was at a loss for words, but found herself able to call upon their shared background "...you understand."

Jimmy screwed up his mouth and muttered a begrudging "yeah."

Realizing his cause was lost, and noticing an arrival to the property, he stopped in his tracks, hands on his hips. Adeline turned in her stride, walking backward as she looked back at him, and then turned forward once more to observe the object of his attention, picking up her stride as an impressive limousine pulled onto the lot. She turned back, walking backward again and called to him, with genuine excitement,

"I'll see you at the show tonight!" She was delighted to be going back to evening performances, she preferred them to matinees to a considerable degree.

"Just be careful, will ya?!" He yelled. With a sigh and a brush of his hand back through his hair, he grumbled "Damnit!" to himself as he watched Adeline hurry towards the gleaming vehicle.

She was trying not to run. The driver would wait, of course, but as soon as she saw the car, a black 1952 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith with white wall tires, Adeline was suddenly overcome by the desire to be out of the reach of Elsa Mars and the microcosm that was the Freak Show. As happy and grateful as she was to have returned to the world of performance, and as comfortable and secure as she felt around those like her regardless of their unfamiliarity with one another, a show troupe was by nature convivial in an often overwhelming and stifling manner.

The driver was standing beside the open back seat door, and when she was close enough to him he inquired "Miss Vestergaard?"

She smiled. "Yes. Hello."

He smiled in return and helped her inside, "here you are, miss," closing the door carefully behind her.

As they rolled away and she sank into the plush leather seat she considered how strange it felt to be part of a show once more, now absent the oppressive, pervasive culture molded by her uncle's demanding, uncompromising standards, perpetually permeating the atmosphere in every camp, unique to his exceptional and almost unbearable style of management. She had spent her life barricaded against unapproved interactions with patrons and performers alike, or anyone else her uncle hadn't trusted implicitly. Ever under the watchful eye of family members, and always aware of the fear of other troupe members should they step over a carefully drawn, thread-thin line, Adeline had spent her life both entrenched in and isolated from much of the goings on in the various ensembles they had assembled and toured with throughout the years. Anyone who didn't wish to be fired or worse would not have risked appearing to be a potential distraction for one of Kurt's most valuable performers. The general air of whimsy and eccentricity that characterized all such traveling groups of performers was naturally always present despite his demands, but accompanying it was a severe underlying aura of impossibly elevated expectations. He'd been a tyrant, much of the time. But she could not think of a single thing she wouldn't have done to see his face again.

Unconsciously replaying their conversation conjured to mind the intimacy she felt between herself and Jimmy, immediate and inescapable, and her mind drifted to the dewy cast of sweat she had glimpsed on his arms as she gazed out at the hazy green scenery she passed as the car headed toward town. She had known boys like him, and yet, as each person in his own right was, he was uniquely himself, and she felt a twinge of fear at the notion that there were no obstacles in the form of rules or consequences barring her from exploring a friendship with him. There would be no barkers or rousties reporting promptly to Kurt if elongated digits happened to dawdle unnecessarily in brushing against her skin during any given rehearsal, no sharp, brief, cutting reprimand barked in a harsh Teutonic accent from beneath the shade of a tent if the two happened to linger too long in teasing one another over similar deformities when migrating to their appropriate morning assignments. What might be the excuse she would present for her distance; would she even keep her distance?

As they drew closer to town, Adeline had a sudden sense of the difference in sensation between the warm, comfortable ease that washed over her when she and Jimmy were in one another's company, and the anxious, excited tremble she felt whenever Dandy Mott's eyes were on her, an intrusive chill that seemed as refreshing as it was menacing. She felt her breath catch, and she cranked down her window, relishing the breeze created by the movement of the car. Peeling off her gloves carefully, she spread her fingers apart, holding them up to the window, careful to hide her actions from her driver. Watching the shadows of the leaves on the trees they passed beneath, cast by the sun as the light played over the webbing of her skin, she attempted to dry her hands. They were clammy.