(TomCat's P.O.V)
"A knife thrower?" I repeated FatCat in a tone that made it seem as if I doubted what he said, even though I believed him.
"Yeah... and I don't know what his damn problem is; maybe a stick up his ass or maybe somebody twisted the family jewels too hard but... well... you just needa' see for yourself," he chuckled half-heartedly. Clearly, whatever was occurring definitely needed my attention if it were to give FatCat a cause to break his normally stoic, brooding composure.
I turned my head to Tae and motioned outside with my hand to see if she wanted to accompany me. The girl only shook her head and hugged a pillow tightly, hiding her face behind it nervously and staring back at me in fear. I assumed her cause was because she didn't want to face the crew after what happened; understandable, considering the way my performers acted after I had brought her back here and returned to discuss this with them... They were understandably outraged by both of us...
I followed FatCat down the dirt path and through the tents to the Big Top, where a small portion of the performers had gathered inside to watch the knife thrower audition. I pushed through the crowd to see a pale, blonde-haired man, holding four decorative daggers in his hand. He wore a neatly pressed suit and shiny dress shoes that appeared to be brand new. His entire demeanour seemed to reak of wealth and smug confidence; a manner that I didn't quite enjoy as I find myself more comfortable in the poor crowd.
He waited patiently in the ring, with a target standing not too far away from him and the other artists in a circle that was much further compared to the target. He examined the knives carefully, thumbing their etched hilts and feeling the smoothness of the blades as if testing them to see if they might be worth anything. When he finally saw me approach; me in my tattered trousers and disgusting old button-down shirt, he flashed me a smug smirk and extended his hand in greeting
"Alo', sir! I hear you're a knife thrower," I greeted, taking his hand as confidently as I could pretend. The man lifted his chin up to me and his smile grew wider in amusement.
"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Ronald Truman, I would like to try out for your show," he answered, his gist holding an unanticipated level of suavity and, dare I say it? He was wholly a charming fellow. I didn't exactly see why FatCat described him as having "a stick up his ass," because, aside from his smug grin and judgemental aura, he seemed to be just a normal, run-of-the-mill rich kid.
"I thank you for your interest! I never expected a man of your stature would be interested in my carnival," I expressed my gratitude as well as I could to seem polite and the man raised his brow and stared at me as a teacher would to a student who came in late to class.
"I'm going to assume by the lack of your own introduction that you have no name?" he inquired as more of a statement. I felt as if he had just scolded me for my lack of proper manners, and by God, any normal man would've simply asked, "your name?" rather than assuming I have none. Now I'm starting to see what FatCat means.
"Ah, I beg your pardon, Mr Truman, I'm not used to using such formalities. My name is Reginald MacSeren, although the rest of us here just refer to me as 'Tomcat'," I apologised. Okay, now I'm just kissing his ass by bowing down to his societal position.
"Hmm..." Truman hummed, obviously judging me by how well I was treating him, "It's a pleasure, Mr MacSeren,"-and that smug grin returned to his face. Or is he trying to kiss my ass so I'll hire him?
"Well then, show me your skills!" I urged as I motioned towards the target. Truman smiled boastfully as he sauntered a few feet away from the target; the artists who surrounded him moved away like two same-sided magnets trying to meet. For a moment, he stood there, eyeing the target carefully and displaying his proper gentleman's stature for all to see.
I observed carefully like prey, judging him as much as he had judged me; I watched as he raised a knife, took a quick step to the side, and propelled it swiftly at the target, hitting it smack-dab in the middle. The performers exclaimed in awe and clapped respectively. I did nothing and continued watching as Truman's smug grin returned and he threw the last three of his knives, right into the middle section of the target.
I have to admit... despite this man's questionable attitude, he did have genuine talent that I could use. I watched as the man sauntered over to the target and reclaimed his knives, flashing everyone a complacent expression as he bathed in their encouraging cheers of approval.
Once he grabbed his daggers, he stood in front of me with his hands folded behind his back and looked me in the eye, awaiting my answer, which he clearly knew he was going to receive.
"Well, I'm certainly impressed, sir. Why should I hire you?" I inquired as if interrogating the man. Truman kept his cool as he adjusted the lapels of his coat.
"Surely, a man such as yourself would know that I'm capable of not only providing exceptional talent, but I have meticulous knowledge in the area of finance since my father had left his family bank to me in his will," he clarified with a smile, that charming persona of his showing through as he spoke. I nodded in interest.
Finances? Maybe this aristocrat would be a more suitable fit as an agent for the circus. I thought to myself, the gears in my mind turning slowly.
"Interesting. In that case, I guess I can't argue... you're hired, Mr Truman," I smiled pleasantly. The crowd clapped and cheered excitedly as they congratulated the proper gentleman. His self-centred smile returned once again, although he kept his gaze fixed on me and never acknowledged the other artists; it was as though they didn't exist to him.
"Come along with me, then... we can sign some papers," I explained, raising my arm to gesture towards the Big Top's entrance so he could follow me outside. Truman nodded and proceeded to amble his way out of the tent, making it clear to everyone that he thought he was high and mighty. Goddamn, this man does not belong here! I thought to myself as I followed. Still don't quite see FatCat's point.
As we made our way towards my office, I began to relay a few basic rules and pointers about the carnival. The man listened intently all the while I spoke, holding his chest high with confidence and making me somehow feel shorter than him just by the way he walked.
"And of course, lastly, we here at the Nočne Mačke Circus have a tradition that allows us to be more like family rather than coworkers and that's the giving of a stage name-" I told with a smile, but was quickly interrupted by Truman.
"Stage name? Excuse me, my good sir, but I'd rather not be defined by a ludicrous name given to me as if I'm some pet," he pointed out, the mere thought of being called anything other than "Mr Truman" absolutely disgusting him. I sighed in disappointment.
"Sir, you aren't being defined by this so-called 'ludicrous' name. It's merely a pleasant quirk of our circus' theme... We have FatCat, the Invincible Strong Man, Lion, the wild cat tamer and now, Mr Truman... The Knife Thrower." I stated casually but with hope that he would realise how boring his title sounded after he made himself clear that he wanted to be better than everyone. He frowned (to my relief because I knew he had realised how idiotic that sounded) and remained silent for a moment after that. He thought for a long while as we walked and, just as we were approaching the cabin, he finally announced that he came up with a name. Listening intently, I told him to proceed and he answered me with, "I would like to be called Precision."
I took a moment to process what the man had said. Precision? What kind of nickname is that!? I thought, flashing him an odd glance but he only returned my gaze with that annoying self-centred smirk. I was confused by his choice of naming, but I had to remind myself that he was very different from me and had different ideas; so I had no other choice but to go along with it and lead him to my office to get a costume. Upon arriving, I had noticed Tae had returned to the couch and was playing a game of solitaire with my magic cards.
She was the first thing Truman set his eyes on... and I didn't like it at all. The stare he gave her wasn't a perverted one or a curious one; it was more of a curious, or suspicious look. I glared at him behind his back and attempted to push him on through the apartment, hoping he wouldn't say anything about the mysterious child in my apartment.
"Come now... I have just the thing for you," I insisted, inconspicuously attempting to corner him into the hall so he couldn't stare at Tae for longer than five seconds.
"Now, now, now, hold on a tik-tok! There's a lady in our presence who needs an introduction," Truman's previously charming business-like demeanour abruptly increased into dangerously high levels. His voice was almost poisonous to hear, however, I relented and called for Tae to approach anyway. Anything to shut this wanker up!
She glanced up at me with an uncertain expression, clearly too engrossed in her game to notice the groomed aristocrat in the fairly run-down shack.
"This is Tae Vlamorae. She is our youngest here at the circus, however, she's currently just a resident," I motioned for her to stand and approach and she reluctantly did so, timidly making her way to me. The young girl hid behind me when she noticed the stranger's eyes glued to her and she nervously clutched my trousers as she peered at Truman.
"Good afternoon, young lady. How are you?" Truman wondered sweetly, that toxic tone of voice hurting my ears to see it come from a dignified gentleman. His attitude was so vastly different from the smug, mannered young man that I saw in the Big Top that it spurred me to take a mental note to keep an eye on this man. Tae waved timidly and smiled faintly and Truman knelt down to extend his hand in greeting. She hesitated but eventually took his hand.
He held her small hand delicately in his and smiled at her as if he were about to present her with sweets, "I'm Ron. Can you say hi back or are you too shy?" he wondered softly.
"...hi, Ron..." Tae mumbled quietly, clutching my trousers tighter in her grip as she spoke. Truman smiled at her once again and returned to his feet to face me. I gave him a look that asked if he were finished and he presently lifted his chin in satisfaction.
"Well? Let's carry on!" he urged his unnaturally sweet tone finally nowhere to be heard as the businessman returned. I nodded and gently ushered Tae off my leg so she could return to her game of solitaire.
I led him into my office, where I told him to wait patiently whilst I sorted through my ungodly mess of papers to search for the small file of contracts that I had. I felt the man's hard gaze stabbing knives into my back as he judged my horribly organised office. I just knew he was going to say something sooner or later and that thought both irritated me and made me anxious.
Surprisingly, however, he kept quiet as I searched, and I was able to peacefully locate the contracts without any crude remarks from the new knife thrower.
"Here we go, sorry 'bout that," I mumbled as I handed him a slip of paper that listed everything a new recruit would need to know. This paper listed everything from rules to liabilities and agreements; I needed every one of my performers to sign this or else they weren't officially part of the circus. The only exception would have to be Kitten and Mitten, who are even younger than I am, so I had to sign for them to show that I was responsible for them.
Truman scanned the paper intently, carefully reading every word and hopefully taking note of it. He was quiet for a moment and I unwillingly had to bear with the intolerable wait accompanied by the time he took to read. Finally, after maybe two minutes or so, the man looked up at me with a stoic expression and nonchalantly demanded a pen. I gave one to him without question and he crossed the messy office floor to use my desk to sign.
He filled out the wager far more quickly than he had read it and signed it with one graceful flick of his wrist. He handed it to me without a second glance and, if he had extended his arm any further, the paper would've shaved my chin straight off. I took it from him with an awkward chuckle and looked over his information; I noted that he only wrote down "knife thrower" as his position, which confused me, considering he mentioned that he was good with finances. Why?
With a weak-hearted smile, I looked back up at him, "Welcome to the show, Mr Truman!" The man nodded and shoved his thumbs in the pockets of his coat.
"Of course... and my costumes? You said I'd be getting those," the man remarked casually. I set his contract in a file along with all the others and shoved the drawer of the cabinet closed, taking out my brief feelings of irritation in the force of the push. I nodded quickly and gestured over to an old crate in the corner of the room.
"Right... Keep in mind, the costumes will be temporary, as I'm having new pieces made for the upcoming grand re-opening. A lot of our costumes are old designs from the previous carnival," I informed as I strode over to the sad, dusty crate and pulled off the lid. That was the only box of costumes I had left and it was mostly filled with old, ratty articles that no one dared to wear or semi-useless props.
I allowed Truman to look through the crate to see what satisfied his particular tastes and it was no surprise when his first comment hit my ears about how a leotard looked. The thing was a ghastly faded yellow that resembled more like a month-old piss stain. I actually allowed myself to agree with his comment, which was nothing more than, "Oh, this is just vile!" Truman tossed it back in the crate with disgust and continued rummaging through the crate, mumbling quietly to himself about the lack of good costumes. The sooner my new costumes get here, the better!
Finally, he begrudgingly decided on a colourful, purple aerialist unitard and I stood up to escort him to the door, thankful that my legs haven't fallen asleep.
"This better be temporary, 'cause I don't want to be seen in public with this thing on," Truman commented in a low tone. I shrugged off his harsh comment, as I was beginning to feel impatient with his presence in my office. I was worried that if he lingered any longer, then I would quite possibly crack his thick skull open.
"Don't worry... I'm having costumes made now," I answered smoothly. Truman nodded as if he were the one who had ordered me to get the new costumes and briskly turned on his heel to leave. However, just before he could grasp the brass doorknob and turn it, he turned to me once again with a stern expression, holding his chest high as if he were my father about to scold me. I felt intimidated by his stare but I refused to show it.
"Oh and, before I head off, I feel I should give you a little word of advice," he started with the mannerism of a school teacher. I placed a hand on my hip and listened "attentively".
"If you are, like I suspect, the only one caring for that... girl... I suggest you do a better job at it. Women shouldn't run around a place like this barefooted and muddy. It's unheard of!" he continued sternly as if I were but a small child and not a responsible man. I may be younger than him but that certainly doesn't give him the right to tell me how to act! I barely know the gentleman!
"Mr Truman... sir... Tae is her own person and she can do whatever the hell she feels like it! If she wants to run around barefooted and muddy, props to her. I only provide food, shelter, and proper toiletries. So, kindly mind your own business," -and I politely gestured to the door and smiled so that he'd finally leave me alone. Truman narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips tightly but otherwise said nothing as a wise man would. He promptly thanked me and left the office, his suave gait making him almost appear too big for my shack of a home.
Damn, now I see what FatCat means. He's a real, whiny chancer if I ever saw one.