Chapter Eight

Oliver

My feet were like lead as I dragged myself away from the train car. I didn't want to leave.

Something inside of me wanted to stay with her. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something unusual about her. Elsie had said that Jules could seem almost magical, but in my opinion, she was the magical one.

I kicked at a pebble as I slowly started to head away from the Circus grounds. It rolled across the dirt path. I would get to see her in the morning, so why was I acting this way. She did say that tomorrow morning was it, though when those words left her lips, I felt part of my heart fracture.

"Oliver! Where are you going?" There was that french accent again; how did Jules always seem to know where I was? If he kept it up, I would probably think he was tracking me or something.

I turned around and scratched the back of my head sheepishly. I was supposed to stay with Elsie until he came back, and instead, I left. He was probably sore with me. Honestly, I had completely forgotten about him.

Jules's stride was solid and quick. Before I could even blabber out an excuse, he was less than a foot away from me. The glow of a cigarette bounced between his lips, followed by thin wisps of gray smoke.

"Oh, Jules, I was headed home." I focus on the bud in his mouth.

"No, no! You must stay!"

"I couldn't impose on you." I shook my head.

"Nonsense. I insist you stay. We can have a nightcap in my car. I won't take no for an answer." He was so insistent. Could I really reject him? When would be the next time someone was offering me hooch? Probably never.

I licked my lips at the thought. I had only had booze a few times in my life. Especially with prohibition, it's not like even if I wanted it, I could get it. Now that it was over, there was a higher chance I could indulge. Here was an opportunity on a golden platter.

"I guess I could stay for a drink." Jules slapped my back enthusiastically.

"Good, good. Come, come. This way." Jules steered me in the opposite direction of the town.

He walked with purpose and poise. Every person we passed greeted him, and he responded with personal remarks. It was clear his troupe respected him. I couldn't figure out why Elsie had made those remarks about him.

"Here we are, Oliver, my boy. Welcome to my little abode." Jules motioned for me to go into the car first. He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and smeared it into the soil with the heel of his shiny black boots as I walked past him.

This coach was nothing like I had ever seen. I expected it to be dirty or maybe even a bit dingy. It was a traveling circus, after all. Did they really have glamourous accommodations? I was wrong; it was immaculate. Decorated in bold reds and golds.

Jules came into the car behind me, hanging up his top hat on a hook on the wall. He ran his hand through his greased hair, ruffling it. Jules peeled his tailcoat off and hung it up beside his hat. He straightened his crisp button-up shirt.

"Sit, sit." Jules motioned towards a red velvet chair.

"Thanks." I nodded in gratitude as I sat down.

As Jules rummaged around in a cabinet, I took in my surroundings. Besides the chair I sat in, there was another identical one. A large bed with spotless sheets and a comforter sat. His car even had electricity. All of the furniture seemed to be an expensive set.

All of it put my mattress in the office to shame. My sheets were clean but stained. I had one thin blanket. All my belongings were able to be tucked away in a single wooden chest.

I seemed like a bum compared to Jules. He would probably turn his nose up at my little 'home.' Anyone would, honestly.

"Here you go." Jules handed me a glass with an amber liquid. "I hope you like bourbon. This is my best bottle. Very smooth."

"I'm happy with anything." I put the glass up to my lips and let the sweet nectar take over my tastebuds. It had a deliciously warming effect. It was rich in vanilla and oak flavors. Jules was right; it was incredibly smooth.

"So, what do you think?" Jules flashed me a grin as he swirled his own glass before taking a small sip of his bourbon.

"It's out of this world. I was sure I sounded like a dip." The alcohol was giving me a warm fuzzy feeling. "I've never tasted anything so good."

"I'm glad. Here let me top you off." Jules took my glass and poured me some more.

The booze must have been stiff because I didn't remember draining my glass like that. Once Jules handed me my drink back, I purposely tried to slowly nurse it.

"So, Oliver, did you enjoy talking to my angel?" Jules reached into a drawer and pulled out an ornate humidor. He pulled out a cigar from the box and pulled out a cutter. With a sharp snip, the cap fell off back into the box. Jules pulled out a lighter and slowly rolled the cigar in its flames. Jules seemed to swirl the smoke around in his mouth before exhaling it.

"Oh, yes. I did." I felt my words slightly slur. I watched as a puff of smoke escaped out of his nostrils. Something about the combination of alcohol and the smoke rushing out of his nose made him look kind of demonic. "She's lovely."

"That she is. She can be quite feisty." A blissful look took over Jules's face as he talked about Elsie.

"I could tell."

"She played nice, right?"

He sounded almost like her parent with that question. "Yeah, she said she doesn't like nicknames, though. Maybe you shouldn't call her your angel."

The words hung in the air like the smell of burnt euphemism. The atmosphere seemed to grow thicker and almost harder to breathe.

"Careful, Oliver." Jules was warning me; his charismatic looks seemed to sharpen and turn almost sinister. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. It must have been the hooch. There was no way for his face to change like that.

When I opened my eyes, he looked like his usual debonair self. "I'm sorry. It just seemed to bother Elsie."

"I know how to treat my wolves." It almost sounded like he growled at the end of his sentence.

"Wolves?" I raised my eyebrow up in confusion, but then it hit me. "Oh, I get it. Your circus has wolves, so you call everyone wolves? That's unique."

"Something like that." Jules gritted his teeth but then let out a sigh. "Let us talk about something else. Unless you are saying that you want to run away with the circus?"

"Ha, no. I have it good here. Richard takes care of me. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have a job, money, or a roof over my head."

"I hear you sleep in the office like a dog. You wash in a river. You don't look like you get enough to eat. How is that better than my world?" Jules leaned over towards me.

"I...I'm not saying it's better than your world. I'm content here." It was true I was content in this town. I was comfortable with my life. It wasn't a forever home, but it worked for now.

"Well, if you change your mind, we leave in the morning."

"Ha, I wouldn't hold your breath, Mr. Loupe." I took a deep swig of my drink.

"Careful, Oliver. That bourbon can be a mischievous seductress."

"What do you mean?" I yawned as I polished off my glass. I licked my lips hungrily. I felt my eyelids becoming heavy, and the edges of the world seemed to almost blurb.

"I think you will understand soon."

Those were the last words I remembered. I'm sure there was more to our conversation. I just couldn't put my finger on it. It was there somewhere but lost in a haze of reds and golds. A turbulent sea of vivid colors and noises.

My head felt like it had been split in two. No, more like someone was inflating a balloon between my brain and skull. Constantly pumping more and more air, trying to cause my head to pop. I just wanted to sleep for the next week.

"Oliver!" A harsh voice called to me; there were so many emotions dripping off of it. I was nausea just trying to figure out who was talking to me. It was probably just Chester trying to wake me up before Richard got into work.

"Oliver!" The voice was getting louder and louder. I swear it sounded like an oncoming freight train. "Shit, there you are!"

I licked my dry and cracked lips as I tried to pry open my eyelids. They were so heavy, my eyelashes caused my vision to be blurred. If only I could open my eyes further and see better. Just the thought made the muscles in my neck give out.

I inhaled deeply, the smell of cigar smoke was gone, and the scent of sawdust and lacquer was filling my nostrils. Was I home? How did I get here?

"Oh, my god, you reak." I felt two strong hands clasping my shoulders, forcing me to sit up. "What the hell happened last night? You smell like you fell into a vat of alcohol."

"Richard?" Chester wasn't that strong; he wouldn't be able to lift my dead weight without help.

"Yeah, come on, you have to get up." Richard tried to pull me to my feet, but my body threatened to collapse.

"Why?" I groaned as I finally convinced my eyelids to open up all the way.

Richard's face was unshaven, his hair was a mess, and he wasn't dressed for work. He seemed frantic; his eyes, movements, and breathing made me want to puke.

"What's going on?" I finally was able to slur together a sentence.

"Where were you last night?" Richard's words rushed out of his mouth; too fast, he was going too fast for me right now.

"Cirque du Lune."

"After the circus?"

"After it was over, I talked to a pretty girl." Probably the prettiest girl in the world. The thought of Elsie seemed to lighten the pressure in my head.

"What else?"

"I had drinks with the ring leader." I scrubbed my face with my hands aggressively, trying to break up the thick fog I seemed to be trapped in.

"Anything else?"

"Not that I remember." I groaned as I wiped the hunks of thick sleep away from my eyes.

"Okay, okay." Richard's words weren't directed at me. He seemed to be talking to himself.

"Richard, what's going on? Why are you so bananas?" He was acting so strange. I don't think I ever saw Richard look like this. Every time I saw him, he was freshly shaven and neatly dressed. He looked like he ran straight out of his house this morning, not even looking in a mirror.

"Chester and his family were murdered last night, and Mrs. Green, his neighbor, said she saw you with him last."