Page 8 of One for the Money
The Omega smiles tightly and grips her suitcasesagain. “Mr. Oliver, you don’t need to escort me to my trailer. Just tell me what it looks like and I’ll find my way. I want to get settled and see what I’m working with so I can collect additional supplies before we leave town.”
I really should escort her. That’s what I’m supposed to do. But Dario’s appearance reminded me that I need to let the crew and talent know about this now, before they all get blindsided running into her.
“I’ll take you there, Dr. Shields,” I say tightly. “Dario, call a family meeting, please. Ten minutes,” I whisper to the acrobat out of the corner of my mouth.
Thankfully,we didn’t bump into anyone else on the short journey to Dr. Shields’s trailer. I dropped her off with no pomp and circumstance and then took off towards the big top, hoping Dario got the word out to everyone.
Underneath the tent, the small but mighty crew has gathered and waits for me.
It takes a lot of people to run a circus. We’ve got stagehands, sound and light crew, and spotters and floaters that help out where they’re needed. We call our most versatile staff the roadies. They bounce between concessions, the ticket booth, and the gift shop, as well as helping stagehands set up and break down everything.
But what everyone comes to see is the Alpha talent.
Dario and Dexter Reynolds are identical twins. They wow the audience with their dangerous acrobatics, performed without harnesses or nets. And sometimes blind folded. They swing and twist in the air, effortlessly catching one another in death-defying tricks that have our audienceon the edges of their seats. The two blonds are tall and trim, with piercing blue eyes. Dario has sleeves of colorful tattoos and his earlobes stretched, while Dexter has only two tattoos - twin black bands circling each of his biceps.
Next to them, Quinton Black reclines in the second row. He’s half asleep, clearly high, and dressed in only a pair of loose joggers. He tilts his chin at me in welcome, then goes back to zoning out, staring at the top of the tent. His partner, Matteo Veracruz, a handsome, but short, Hispanic Beta man, sits next to him, sketching in a notebook. The two of them put on an incredible act involving sword swallowing, knife throwing, and whip play, ending with body suspension, if they’re feeling up to it. The crowd loses their minds over it every time.
Our motocross team, four Alphas who do the sphere of death every night, are all clustered together in stage left, keeping a distance from what they call the “floor” performers. It’s not a superiority complex or anything. They’re a tight-knit pack that doesn’t let anyone in.
Our smaller acts, like our juggler and contortionist, are dotted around the facility, and I breathe a sigh of relief. They’re all here.
Let’s get this over with.
“Team,” I say, getting their attention. I prefer the title of showrunner over that of ringmaster, but it’s all the same. I own this production and run the show. “As you know, Dr. Tran decided not to renew his contract with us, so we have had to hire a new doctor. Dr. Alex Shields started today.”
“Same trailer?” Matteo asks. As the sole Beta in our main performance crew, Matteo is always trying to justify his place here, like he’s worried I’m going to kick him out or relegate him to stagehand. I wouldn’t dream of it.Where he goes, Quinton goes, and the two of them put on a show that I could never replicate.
I need to remind him that he’s just as important as Q. He’s valuable, and he doesn’t need to kiss my ass to show that.
“Yes, same trailer. The rules will be the same. Make an appointment if possible, but you can also text to request immediate attention. And of course, all emergencies are to be reported to me, and I will get medical care to you.” I’m telling them things they already know to avoid saying what needs to be said.
Dario calls me on it. “Tell them the real reason for this meeting, Jude.”
I groan, closing my eyes and looking up. “Dr. Alex Shields is a woman. And an Omega.”
It’s quiet.
The entire company is completely fucking still.
“An Omega?” Dexter says quietly. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“He’s not,” Dario answers. “I met her.”
“She hot?” Quinton asks lazily. Matteo hits him with his notebook. “What? We’re all thinking it.”
One of the bikers, Erinque, raises his hand. “Why would you hire an Omega, much less a female one?”
My face is hot at being called out, and I look at the ground. “She didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask. Everything was done through email. I didn’t even think to call her before extending the offer. We had to fill the role quickly, and she was willing to take way less than we paid Dr. Tran and start immediately.”
“Is she even a doctor?” Matteo asks, crossing his arms over his slim chest. Quinton visits the doctor more than anyone else, so I’m not surprised he’s the one who bringsup credentials. “What kind of doctor can roll into a circus immediately? Or wants to?”
Everyone is starting to talk and mumble amongst themselves, and I can hear the narrative getting away from me already. I cup my hands around my mouth and yell.
“Shut up! I understand this isn’t ideal, but she has a contract. We need to at least give this a shot. To answer Matteo’s question, she was at the top of her class in med school. Before she came to work for us, she worked in the emergency department of a trauma-certified hospital. She is exactly the type of doctor we want, considering the injuries you dumbasses acquire. I don’t know why she was so eager to leave, and I don’t care. We will try to make this work for as long as we need to.”
“That’s a moving speech, Mr. Oliver,” comes a smooth voice behind me. I can practically hear the air get sucked out of the tent. “But do you mind if I add a little to it?”
Chapter 3
