Page 102 of One for the Money
It is like that.
He pats me on the shoulder and calls out assurances that he’ll let me know how she is as he leaves, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from me. I trust Rex to tell me the truth, and if she’s not doing well, then I can figure something out to help her.
“Hey Jude,” sings Paul, our juggler, imitating the popular song by the Betaels decades ago. “Watch this.” He picks up three axes from the floor and starts to toss them in the air, catching them deftly and leaving my heart in my throat.
I’ll never get over how he doesn’t lose a finger doing this.
Then, he sticks his bare foot out and grabs a dagger with his toes and manages to toss it up into the mix.
I don’t know much about juggling, but I feel like the timing of catching things of different sizes has to be hard to estimate.
“Gonna do it blindfolded, soon,” he says, a big grin stretching his face wide. “Gonna be a shower stopper. May knock Quick Cut and Maestro out of their spot.”
“We’ll see about that. Keep the doc on speed dial,” I deadpan. He snorts, catching the axes and blade easily and dropping them on the ground before waving me off.
I trust my guys to know their limits, but there is a reason we have a staff doctor. Accidents happen, but I’m not looking to have them spirited off to the emergency room after every show.
When I’m satisfied that all of the acts seem to be in a good place for the night, I head back to my trailer to get some paperwork done. I’ve got permits to submit for a few of our upcoming shows. It’s my least favorite part of my job.
After an hour or so of mind-numbing paperwork, myphone rings with a video call from my mom. I prop it up against a water bottle and accept the call. Her smiling face fills the screen, and sadness briefly flits through me.
My sister looks so much like her, but I haven’t seen her in ages because of her controlling pack. It makes my chest hurt every time I think about her.
“My boy,”my mom says sweetly.“How are you?”
“I’m good, Mama. Doing some paperwork.” I can see how tired I look in the tiny rectangle at the bottom of the screen, so I know she can, too, on her end. Her face is sweet and a little sad as she takes in my appearance.
My mother and one of my fathers are Maori, but we’ve lived in the States my whole life. My mother has a moko kauae, a traditional tattoo on her chin, and even though it’s faded over the years, I love seeing a physical manifestation of her true identity and our culture on her smiling face.
“You look tired. You’re not sleeping.”
It’s not a question. She knows me well, and I am nearly physically incapable of lying to her.
“I had a long night last night, but it’s not a regular thing. I promise.” I can’t tell her I have a scent match. She’d lose her mind, drop everything to come here and meet her, and start planning our wedding ceremony.
No, I won’t hurt my mama like that, tempting her with a daughter-in-law and then ripping her away when I don’t even know if Alex will choose us in the end.
“You work too hard,”she says, lightly chastising me.“When are you going to give up that circus?”
Not this again.
“I love what I do, Mama. This circus is my legacy. I thought we were past this?”
“Well, you’re not getting any younger. I want grandchildren, you know.”I can tell she picks up on my eyeroll when she glares at me through the screen.
I don’t remind her that she already has grandchildren. It’s a sore spot, since she rarely gets to see them.
My origin pack immigrated to the States shortly after my sister was born, because the Prime Alpha is from here and his parents were ill. Since my mother’s family passed when she was young, she went along with little protest. Once I was born here, it was decided that I would finish my education here.
And then my sister met her pack. All Americans, none with any interest in our culture. She quickly became bonded, isolated, and pregnant, and everything we did to try to get her free of them backfired.
Once my family find out that I am matched to an American pack, as well, there is no way they’ll go back to New Zealand. I can only hope Mama will not resent me.
We continue our conversation as I work, and I hear all about her tennis league, which is a new development, and how her garden is doing. For half an hour, I’m able to forget about the Omega that is threatening to throw my circus into pure chaos.
Chapter 39
“Didyou see the Beta I brought back to my trailer last night?” Chet, one of the lighting guys, is saying to Nathan, one of the roadies. “God, she was so fucking hot. An ass like a goddamn peach, and those fat fucking lips.”
