He slowed as he neared Max’s tent. From the shouts and taunts from inside, he must have just opened. Lionel halted beneath the lurid banner:

ADMISSION 25 CENTS NO ONE UNDER SIXTEEN ADMITTED.

NO WOMEN, NO CHILDREN

NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART

The wind had loosened the cords that held the canvas flaps closed during performances, leaving a gap that Lionel peered through.

A wall of men blocked his view of the stage. Even from here he could smell their rage and arousal, bodies packed like spoiled oysters in a barrel. He’d witnessed Max’s show only once before, on his first visit to Riverview not long after they’d met at a supper club on the Stroll. He’d been impressed by the performance: Max knew just how to tilt his head and widen his eyes slightly, part his lips with a sideways glance; then turn so that the illusion of a youthful flirt was upended as a snappy dude challenged the audience, stroking his mustache with a salacious grin.

Now Lionel wondered if he’d somehow come to the wrong tent, or if Max had been replaced by another performer. Instead of Max’s blond good looks, the actor resembled a roughneck, his hair black with a greasy sheen. Thick white powder covered his entire face, not just the woman’s half. The powder didn’t hide a cut on his chin with blood seeping from it, or the raw look of his upper lip, as though he’d been shaved with a dull razor. A scarlet bloom surrounded the iris of one eye. He hadn’t even bothered with a wig, just a Panama hat. It looked as though he’d been at the losing end of a fight, his face knotted with such barely contained rage that he appeared deranged, like the poor soul who howled at the crowds in the freak show.

Yet Max was utterly silent, utterly still, refusing to move or speak despite the epithets and taunts shouted at him by the crowd. Like them, Lionel couldn’t look away. Until, with a jolt of horror, he saw Max’s gaze shift with the dreamlike slowness of an automaton’s, until it focused on the rear of tent, and his bloodshot eyes riveted on Lionel’s own.

With a gasp Lionel backed away, turned, and sprinted toward the crowded path. He let himself be carried along until he spotted a grassy patch at the edge of Fairyland where he sat, struggling to catch his breath, struggling to find words for what, exactly, he had seen in Max’s eyes, and why it had terrified him.

Chapter 78

Chapter 78