Page 20 of Unlocked Dive
“You and Lara are done?” There’s sympathy there but no sorrow. Like everyone else in my life, Shilo was never a fan of my ex. “It’s too small in here to watch you pace,” she adds, eyeing me. “Let’s take a walk.”
“I think we’d been done for a while,” I sigh, following her down the steps and back toward the tent. “I was just the last one to know.”
“Well, ‘cheers’ to finally knowing.” She knocks her can against mine and falls in step beside me. “Tell me about the kid.”
I try not to flinch at the word. She has a son only a year younger than Echo, and hell, I think of him that way half the time myself.
Except when my tongue is in his mouth.
“He’s one of Reggie’s. He was supposed to start last year, but he took a bad fall and had to defer.”
“So, you’re his rehab coach? How’s that going?”
One of the things I like about Shilo is her ability to cut through the bullshit, a little like an older, harder version of Reggie. Unlike Reggie, however, she doesn’t pull her punches just because she loves me.
“I think I’m in over my head,” I admit.In more ways than one. “He’s been self-isolating, and the cabin isn’t helping. I’m hoping that bringing him around you and the crew might help him remember what he loves about circus.”
“The barely controlled chaos?” She chuckles.
“You sound like Cheyenne.”
Shilo is a total control freak. For her, chaos has always been something to conquer, not celebrate, and she’s damn good at making magic out of her victories.
“I guess she’s finally rubbing off on me.” She smiles fondly. “And I’m also guessing that you want me to talk to Echo? Share my inspirational tale of wreckage and recovery?”
“One of these days, yes. I think it’d be good for him to hear.” Shilo busted her hip in a fall that could have ended her career a few years ago. “But not today. I don’t want him to think I ambushed him or spilled his secrets.”
“You gonna fix me now?”
“In fact,” I add, “probably don’t spread that around at all until he’s ready.”
She gives me a look. “You’re protective of him.”
“Yes.” No point in denying it. We’ve reached the tent, and she gestures to the canopied entrance.
“Want to go inside?”
Do I want to see what Echo is up to, she means. I can’t deny that either, so I follow her into the high shadows witha nod. She parks herself on one of the wrought-iron audience benches. On a show day, the tent would be packed with them, but currently, only a handful are scattered around the space.
The stage is set up opposite the door, in front of the heavy blackout curtains that section off the “backstage” area. Stage lights hang from the king poles and the rigging truss, a few more waiting their turn at the edge of the stage. There are crash mats stacked against the sidewalls, a sawhorse to one side next to a folding table piled with tools, and her son Gem’s Chinese pole anchored in the alcove where the concessions wagon usually sits. Controlled chaos.
Milla and Echo are taking turns at star drops on the shimmering gold silks hanging center stage. Josha stands at another folding table set up off stage left, messing with the light board and occasionally calling out for one of them to climb or drop or hold a certain position as he bathes the stage in sunset hues.
“Milla’s looking good,” I venture after a few minutes.
“So is your boy.”
He’s not mine.
But she’s right. The star drops are flashy but not dangerous, and Echo’s movements are sure and almost languid, taunting Milla to match his easy grace with her coltish limbs. After the final drop—a backward shooting quad that Echo wisely declines and has Milla’s blond ponytail brushing the mat and Shilo shaking her head beside me—Josha pulls up the girl’s music so she can run her routine. Echo gives her a fist bump before vaulting off the stage and moving over to lean against the table.
Shilo watches the act in silence, her critical gaze softened by affection. I know I should pay attention, that she’ll want my professional feedback on her daughter’s burgeoning skills, but my eyes keep straying to Echo and Josha in the shadows—measuring the inches between them and caught by the way Joshaducks his head and laughs when Echo leans over to whisper in his ear. Something ugly curls in my gut, and I shove at the ungracious impulse.
Luckily, Shilo is too engrossed in her daughter’s performance to notice my distraction. Until I blow it by opening my mouth.
“How come Josha’s still around? I’m surprised you didn’t lose him to the big city once he graduated.”
“Thank god we didn’t,” she replies, glancing over. “Hals would throw a fit if we had to replace him. Josha’s the only thing holding half this shit together.” She gestures vaguely to the surrounding scene. “And the only one I trust to drive the flatbed.”
