Page 4 of Galaxy Circus Act One

As the limo continues driving toward the dome, the driver looks in the rearview mirror at me. “So did you say something about a grandfather? Is he one of the performers? I would have put my money on you being a groupie, hoping to get lucky with one of the performers. They do seem quite popular. Or are you one of those investigative reporters, trying to get the scoop on how they do their tricks? There are always a few each year who try to get hired on as merchandise or concession stand vendors, and they always end up kicked to the curb for poking their noses where they’re not wanted. But an actual relative… That’s certainly interesting.” I can hear the curiosity in his voice, but I don't owe him an explanation. Not to mention, if my bestie didn’t get any extra details, they’re sure not being shared with this guy who’s made his judgment on the circus pretty clear.

I laugh as I vaguely answer, “Something like that. So, tell me, as a local man, what do you think of the rumors? There must be some sort of gossip floating around the villages.”

“Who knows,” he says. “Some people say they’re fairies or witches, and some people say aliens. Goodness knows that dome has an alien look about it. I took the Mrs. once. Some of the things those acts do are quite unbelievable. But then again, David Copperfield managed to make the space shuttle disappear, so who knows?” He shrugs. I smile inwardly, knowing that act had all been set up and the people there were in on it.

We pull up to a gate with a couple of very serious-looking security guards standing at attention. Both are close to seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and pecs you could bounce a quarter off. They’re wearing black cargo pants with the requisite tight black security shirt. As one turns around and walks to the gate, it looks like he may have a gun concealed in his waistband. My eyebrows raise at this; they mean business. Why would a circus need armed guards? The other one, this guy holding a clipboard, steps up to the limo and gestures for the driver to wind down the window.

“Name, please,” he grunts. Not very chatty, but at least he takes his job seriously.

“Miss Lila Jenson,” the driver says to the guard. “Mr. John Adams is expecting her.” The guard looks down at his clipboard before giving a curt nod and gesturing to the gate.

“Drive to the door just there at the side of the dome. Unload her luggage, get back in, and drive straight out, please. Someone will come to find you if you take your time, and they won’t be happy.”

The driver nods to the security guard, winds the window up, and puts the car into gear, driving toward the gate where the other security guard has opened it up. The car slowly inches forward, and my driver is far from the relaxed and more social man he was before. He looks so tense, his face in the rearview mirror is wrinkled, frowny, and definitely stressed. I don’t thinkthere will be any issue with him taking his time. I think if he could, he would floor the accelerator, yank the hand brake, slide the limo sideways toward the door, and kick me out on the way past.

When he does stop, I quickly make my way out of the car before the driver jumps out to help to pull my luggage out of the trunk. I’m all ready to go by the time he reaches me, and when he holds out his hand, I grasp it.

“Good luck,” he says. “I think you’re going to need it.” He pushes a business card into my hand. “You look like a nice girl. Don’t think it didn’t escape my attention that you never told me what you were doing with this lot. If you need a lift or anything, call me.”

He looks up at the dome with a shudder before he quickly gets back into the limo and drives off, the limo disappearing in a cloud of dust. One minute, it’s there, and then it’s through the gate and gone.

My neck stretches as I tip my head back to look all the way to the top of the dome. It really is a sight to see. I walk over to it, reaching out to feel the side, but my hand is stopped by some kind of invisible barrier.What the fuck?When I push a little harder, the barrier warms up until my hand is able to pass through it. At the unexpected feel of the material, I pull my hand back, looking between it and the dome in shock. It’s weird; it looks like a fabric or canvas tent, like any other circus, but it’s not. It’s almost as if it’s made of a type of metal. Smooth and cold and almost like there’s a slight electrical current running through it. It’s so strange, and I’m a little wary about what to make of it. To make the situation even odder, there’s now no one around. What happened to all the little ants that I’d seen running around in the distance?

Blowing out a breath, I step back from the dome, pacing back and forth while rubbing my hands against my pants. Well, thisis it, I’m standing here, expectations high, just like the kids inCharlie and the Chocolate Factory. My very own Willy Wonka should be appearing any minute. My heart is beating a million miles an hour, and my breathing has quickened. I cannot wait to start the next part of my big adventure, but taking that final step is hard… freaking hard.

Suddenly, the door in the dome flies open, slamming back against the building. “Well, what are you waiting for, girly? A marching band or a parade?” The gruff voice sounds out from the darkness inside the doorway, surprising me with its normalcy. “Well, you’re flat out of luck. Get your ass in gear. We ain’t got all day, and the Misters Adams are waiting for you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Lila

I’ve been led into the dome and shown into an empty room that looks like it may be an office or an executive suite. It has a huge picture window that overlooks the whole inside of the arena, and to say I am speechless would be an understatement. There’s tiered seating all around the edges of the dome, surrounding what looks like a traditional circus ring on steroids. It’s the size of a soccer field! I can’t make out what the flooring is made of, but it doesn’t look like the traditional sawdust you would expect. My eyes jump up from the floor, following the curve of the walls, to study the setup. Halfway up, I can see some sort of rigging, probably for a trapeze act or something similar. There are also cat walks and a lighting rig that would put a major rock concert to shame. Down on the floor, under the seating, there are doors leading to the backstage area, and one in particular draws my eyes due to its sheer size. This must be how they get their sets or props in and out of the ring.What else could need to pass through doors that big?

Generally, the setup is impressive and a bit baffling. They must have a crew of hundreds to get it all set up basically overnight.

The door handle creaks, and I turn around just in time to see three gentlemen walk into the room. They look to be in their mid to late forties, and all are on the tall side with slender builds. Their hair is dark, all styled to various lengths, and one even has it in a man bun.How hipster.The coloring is similar to mine, but it’s difficult to figure out exactly what the shade is. Two of them are wearing jeans and t-shirts, but one is wearing a suit. They also all have brilliant emerald green eyes that are currently staring at me with varying degrees of excitement. Identical triplets, how the hell am I going to tell them apart? It’s lucky they have different hair.But wait…Aren’t they a little young to be my grandfathers? Just my luck that I’d come all this way to meet them but they send out some strange welcoming committee instead.

“Welcome, welcome.” The suited one with the shorter tousled hair steps toward me with his arms stretched wide. I take a little step back, not ready to go there yet, and he stops, looking a little abashed. “Yes, well, I’m John Adams, and this is William—buzz cut—and Eric—man bun. We are so excited to finally meet you, Lila. Why don’t we take a seat?” he says, gesturing to the plush couches in the room. “I’m sure you have many questions.”

“Yes,” says William as he walks to the couches and sits down, crossing one leg over a knee. “Let’s get it all out in the open and out of the way. Then we can see if you’ll run screaming or if you’ve got what it takes to lead the Galaxy Circus.” He looks at me, forehead furrowed and eyes squinty like he’s sure that it’s going to be the former.

Whoa, he’s not pulling his punches. Guess they’re not all Team Lila.

“Sure, Grandpa,” I say, smirking at him, “but I don’t scare easily.” I stalk to the couch opposite him and sit down, enjoying the way the grandpa comment made him just a little green. Maybe he’s not used to being called that. I’m pretty sure Mr. Ryding said I was the only option as far as grandchildren, so it’s probably safe to say that he wouldnt be used to it.

“Good, good,” says man bun Eric, casually throwing himself onto another couch. “How about we give you the rundown? Anything we miss, you can ask about later.”

Looking between the three of them, their serious faces tell me that we’re getting straight into this. I nod my agreement, happy that I’m not going to have to do some silly small talk. Really, all I want at the moment is answers.

“So, I’ll start. One,” John begins, counting off on his fingers, “Galaxy Circus is manned by aliens; that’s not a gimmick.” My heart skips a beat, but I’m not sure what to think or feel other than that. My mind is starting to come up with a wild idea that these men might be crazy, but I don’t see any easy way out of this room.Looks like I’m hearing them out. For now.

“Two, Galaxy Circus travels from planet to planet, working as a kind of United Nations. We make deals and trades between various different species.” I’m pretty sure my heart has stopped beating now. “Three, we are also used as a bit of a transport service for species who would like to travel the galaxy. You can think of us as a tour service for aliens. They work for us, and they get travel included in their salary.”

Now my heartbeat kicks back in at the rate of a freight train. I can practically feel my blood pressure rising, and I’m sure steam is pouring out of my ears like a cartoon character.

“Four, we are not human; therefore, it’s safe to sayyou’renot human either.”

“Stop,” I shout, jumping out of my seat, interrupting his little spiel. “Just stop!” I’m just about vibrating with anger. What kindof lunatics fly someone all the way to England for a practical joke? How did I get picked as the hapless orphan who’s probably going to end up as some stupid viral sensation? There’s got to be cameras somewhere if this is the bullshit they’re trying to sell me. How did I get my hopes up forthis?