Julius Rosenthal will make candy no more and other short stories, Nicholas Russell [android pdf ebook reader TXT] 📗

draw of the counter and retrieved his fathers old chrome switchblade. Tucking the lockbox back under his arm Frank made his toward the back of the RV. His thumb drifted to the knife’s release and frank gently applied pressure. Stepping through the small hallway Frank was relieved. Sitting at the table with a half empty bottle of whiskey was Mickey Doyle, or as he was known under the big top, Gregor the Fearless.

Frank tossed the box down on the table and continued past to the small dressing area in the back. He was careful when removing the Ringmaster costume it had belonged to his grandfather and was one of the only things Frank had to show of his family’s circus heritage. He pulled on an old worn pair of jeans and heavy flannel shirt. Once he had counted down the night’s take he would need to go out and survey the trucks before getting a few hours of sleep. As he was pulling the shirt on Mickey began calling back to him in a thick Russian accent, “Come and drink good friend, we have narrowly survived another day.”

Frank sighed and finished buttoning the shirt, Mickey Doyle as you could tell from his name was not Russian. Mickey grew up in Boston, whether it was north or South Boston depended on how much Mickey had had to drink. Frank slipped on a pair of work boots before making his way back. “Madam Curie throw you out again?”

The accent was different when Mickey yelled back “Yeah, she says I’s makin eyes with some broad in the stands.” Mickey turned and nodded as Frank entered and for the first time Frank noticed Mickey’s left hand was bandaged.

“What happened?” Mickey raised his hand and made a feeble attempt to wiggle his fingers before grabbing his glass and taking a drink.

“Sasha, she got a bit spooked and tried to take a chunk of my hand.” Mickey stared at the pitch black window for a moment before speaking again “She is getting old, too much longer and we won’t be able to work with her anymore.”

Frank stepped into the RV’s Kitchenette and grabbed a glass for himself. He set it on the table and once more fished the key ring from around his neck. Grasping the smaller of the two he opened the lockbox tossed the keys to the side. The box looked light and Frank wished he could scream about someone skimming, but he knew the truth. He looked up to Mickey and then to the scotch.

“How bad is it?” Mickey’s voice was quiet. He was one of the few people that knew how bad it had gotten in the past few years.

“I’m not sure but at a glance we should be able to make it to Tulsa and get set up.” Mickey poured Frank a drink and topped off his own. The two sat in silence for the first count, it wasn’t till half way through the second that Frank spoke again “This keeps up one of us is going to have to retire.”

“What if we sell one of the horses,” Frank looked up from the money, and took a drink “Isn’t that Medieval place in Orlando always looking for trained horses?”

“I thought about it but they don’t want anything over three years old.” Frank returned to the money and a silence fell over the two once more. Frank was running the numbers in his head they had enough to get to Tulsa and keep the show going for a night or two. Hopefully the people in Tulsa were Circus people. As he finished the second count there was a little knock at the door.

Mickey’s eyes bugged slightly and he looked to Frank. Madame Curie was the show’s magician and her greatest trick was finding Mickey after he stormed off. “If it is Frannie don’t tell her I’m here.”

Frank chuckled as he walked to the door and cracked it open. It wasn’t Frannie outside it was his beloved daughter Millie. A sweet smile crossed her face and she tilted her head to the side and as she did her hair slid off her shoulders revealing the gold pendant her mother wore. His eyes fixed to the pendant and then moved to her face reminding Frank how much she looked like her mother. “Dad, Louis’ crew is finished since it is the last night I wanted to give him some cash to go get’em a drink… Can I have some cash?”

Millie was always looking out for the crew. Frank nodded and stepped back in without saying a word. Her taking care of everybody like they were family reminded Frank how good she would have been if she had been given the chance to run this place. Millie followed him in and gave Mickey a soft smile, “How is the hand?”

Mickey waved it off and offered her a drink, which was shot down with a glare from Frank. Twenty was pulled from the lockbox and handed over. He closed the box and after locking it again returned the key around his neck. The springs on the door snapped closed and Frank realized that he hadn’t said anything to Millie for a moment he wanted to go out the door after her. He wanted to tell her how well she had done tonight. Millie’s mother had trained her in the trapeze, and when she passed, Millie took over the act. Her mother came from a long line of Russian performers and had trained her daughter well.

A couple of times scouts from Ringling Brothers had tried to steal her away. They offered money and fame but she turned down both. Frank had practically begged her to go but all she would say was that she was a Morgan and Morgans stuck together. It was probably Frank’s proudest moment as a father and here he