Dressing the House, Paid Off in the Dark

Chapter I

{Notes:

Welcome, Ladies & Gentlemen!

The term "Dressing the House" refers to the historic practice of selling reserved tickets strategically so that all sections of the performance tent appear filled to capacity, even when they are not.

"Paid Off in the Dark" refers to when circus or carnival performers' salaries are paid off the books, in cash.

As far as pairings go....they're going to be complicated, and intentionally so.

The story will follow the show quite closely, with the exception of some pairings, which will be amended, along with minor plot points, to make way for others.

I hope you enjoy the show!}

Chapter I

Watching the bright bands of sunlight shimmering through the live oaks on the left side of the wide street, Adeline thought she could never tire of the South.  But she was certain she could tire of driving.  At least, driving alone.  The great trees stood sentry at even intervals on both sides of the wide main road, and soon the picturesque, well manicured avenues would give way to dirt country lanes, and she would find the show she sought, the isolated discombobulated village of tents and trailers sequestered behind a mask of attractions. There were less of them now, proper freak shows governed by hard working folks in the old style, and Adeline had promised herself she would never work for anyone who treated her like something to be caged.  Adeline detested keeping even Maximus in his cage.  She gazed into her rearview mirror compulsively, for perhaps the fiftieth time that day. Images from her past enjoyed accosting her at unwelcome moments, and now Uncle Kurt flashed before her eyes, her mother’s laughing face, the electric lights and the bright, bold stripes of the big top.  She gripped the steering wheel, twisting her hands tightly around the leather.  Then she stopped, hearing now Uncle Kurt’s scolding voice in her head. Her valuable hands. She turned up the radio, Helen Forrest’s voice soothing her as she coasted down the side road with the window open and her stomach in knots.  Adeline hated auditions.  She hated approaching unfamiliar management to ask for a job.  But it had to be done.  There were so few places for her, now.  And she had come so far.  Jupiter may as well have been Mars.  And, as it would turn out…. perhaps it was. 

 Adeline turned right onto the fairgrounds, her stomach having calmed a bit on the approach.  The friendly, inviting banners depicting curiosities she had never met, whose images were nevertheless familiar, had been comforting to her. She looked about, pleased to see a number of private tents and carnival attractions in addition to the main freak show tent. But the location and the size of the outfit appeared to leave much to be desired.  She was careful to navigate the terrain in such a way as to ensure the least amount of jostling for Maximus who, as ever, had been patient and well behaved in his trailered enclosure.  Nervous, Adeline considered the juxtaposing possibilities.  Either the show was starved for new acts due to the sparse showing of current troupers, or they were in enough trouble as to be unable to afford contracting additional performers.  Finding a spot off to the side, where she assumed she wouldn’t be in the way, Adeline parked her truck and took a deep breath, peering at her reflection in her rear view mirror for a moment to steady herself. 

 Eve, Paul, and Ethel had stopped in the course of their various activities and had gathered together in mutual curiosity. They were watching with interest the enormous set of trailers pulled by the bright blue 1948 Chevy 3100. The generous animal enclosure, barred, with its occupant obscured by curtains through which air could nevertheless flow freely, was followed by an attractively painted traditional caravan with its steps folded up against its back door.  The glare of the sun on the windshield obscured the driver of the pickup, but she quickly made herself visible nonetheless when she opened the door and stepped down onto the running board.  At first, all they could see were her black and white saddle oxfords and plain white bobby socks, and her dark denim jeans, rolled up above her ankles, military style brass buttons gleaming.  When she climbed out, standing up straight in the Florida sunshine, she looked every bit the average rural 1950s girl, in her red and white gingham button up shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail ending in soft curls, matching mini pompadour fashioned out of her bangs bobby pinned back behind her forehead.  She shut the door to the truck and placed a hand flat over her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. The three continued to watch her with interest, until she turned to look at them and smiled.