Page 62 of Two For the Show
“Definitely,” Dexter confirms, pushing to his feet. “Everyone is going to be involved in this one.”
Callingthis plan hairbrained is an understatement.
But it’s the only one we’ve got.
Once Dexter and Dario laid their plan out in front of us, I immediately shot it down. However, after two hours of discussion, they managed to win me over.
Which means we’re beginning phase one of “Operation Get Our Omega Out Fast,” as Quinton has named it.
Operation GOOOF.
Quinton has named the plan Dexter made to hopefully rid me of my abusive pack forever “GOOOF”. If he weren’t so pleased with himself, I’d have thrown something at him.
On the surface, Operation GOOOF shouldn’t be so difficult to accomplish, but I have a feeling it’s going to take longer than any of the guys expected.
We have to find a circus act for me.
Or rather, integrate me into the others.
Which is why at two o’clock in the afternoon, I’m standing in the middle of the ring, arguing with Jude Oliver.
“No. Absolutely not. You don’t have to!”
“Because I’m the showrunner. Ringmasters perform with the troupe. Ergo, you’re the ringmaster.” He pushes the hat back into my hands. “So you have to wear the hat.”
The hat in question is a black sequined monstrosity, with a neon yellow ribbon around the brim. Dario was quite pleased with himself when he came back from town with it. Apparently, there was still one of those Halloween pop-up stores doing a clearance sale, and he got the ribbon from a fabric store.
“You need to wear the hat,” Jude says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the first woman to be a part of this circus. You have to play the part.”
“And the part includes a hideous hat?”
He smiles, and it nearly sends me to my knees. Jude is a stoic guy, but when he smiles, it’s enough to stop my heartfor a minute, especially when I can feel his amusement and joy through the bond.
“Yes. Put the hat on.”
Reluctantly, I perch the ugly ass hat on my head, and he steps up beside me, putting a hand on my back.
At least his part is easy to rehearse, and we have a couple of weeks for me to practice.
As we go through the script for introducing each act, Jude starts to make jokes with me. He takes my responses and spins them, cleverly turning everything I say into something relating to the circus. I’m in awe of his improvisational skills.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I ask, after he manages to twist one of my simple responses into a deliciously dirty tale about the trapeze.
“Do what?” He tosses me a bottle of water, and we sit down on the front row of the stands.
“The whole improv thing. You can spin anything and relate it back to the circus in some way.”
His face looks a little sad for a moment. “I learned it from Carl. He’s the one who started this circus. I was a teenager when I joined the Cirque, and he mentored me. The old asshole was so fucking clever that I had to work to keep up with him.”
The way he speaks about Carl in the past tense, with a softness that he doesn’t carry most of the time, lets me know that not only was Carl important to Jude, but that he’s no longer with us.
“Now it feels like second nature. Being a showrunner for a circus is a lot like being a Master of Ceremonies at any program, except I’m not only telling the crowd who is up next. I’m setting the tone, holding their interest. Like a comedy club, but for a dangerous circus.” He runs his fingers through his hair before draining his water bottle. “If we rolled from act to act, the whole show would feel disjointed. I’ve got to weave them together, escort our crowd into the next phase.”
I cross my legs at the ankles and pick at the label on my bottle. “Does that have anything to do with the order the guys go up in?”
He nods encouragingly. “Absolutely. Each act has a tone. As impressive as Rex is, he’s not a closer, you know? And going from his act to the motorcycles makes his act seem less impressive than it is. So I have to do a bridge act. That’s where Guy comes in.”
Guy is the Alpha whose act perplexed me the most the first time I watched the show. He wears a full-faced black mask that glows with neon yellow stitches where his mouth should be, and he stalks through the crowd. He doesn’t carry any items, and he doesn’t bend his body in fantastical ways. He climbs over the backs of the stands, balancing behind people as he does this weird interpretive dance type thing. I don’t understand it at all. But the audience went wild over it, specifically the women. I think it’s meant to be a fear thing, like he’s a stalker who is close to taking them.
