Vodka Sting

I know I had the biggest possible smile on my face when I turned to him. "Officer! You gonna handcuff me this time?"

Some of that was patter, but honestly...what red-blooded American girl wouldn't consider it? Damn that Fifty Shades thing.

"I would, but I have a feeling you'd just slip out of them anyway." He grinned down at me, and behind him, I could see the Ivans pass by, apparently oblivious to my presence.

"Probably, but it'd be fun while it lasted."

He chuckled. "I'm sure it would."

I could see the Ivans slowly sweeping the other side of the square. "I can promise you wouldn't go runnin' round once you've been down with a clown."

He gave a deep rumbling laugh. I know my laughs and that was the laugh of a guy who has a sense of humor and enjoys life.

My breath caught. Every girl has a weakness. Thank God for greasepaint, or he'd have seen me flush red from head to toe.

"Irrepressible." He said it fondly, with a touch of something that I couldn't really get a grip on in words, but that my damn hormones percolated over. He hadn't said anything obvious, hadn't so much as eyed me; hell, I was literally in a clown suit. But something in his voice made me sure he'd love to see how much of me was blushing.

I looked down at his left hand. No ring. "So, I kinda owe you for letting me get away with murder the other day. Any chance I can buy you a hot dog?"

He shook his head. "Not on duty."

I probably should have shrugged and let it go...but, in my defense, he smelled like a lumberjack. In a really good way. "So, if you were off duty, when and where would I run into you?"

He studied me for a moment. "I might be at Elwood's Hot Dogs by the Botanical Gardens at one tomorrow."

I studied him right back. "You know, that's odd. The grounds are open tomorrow at the Gardens, so I might be there too. Weird, huh?"

He chuckled again. I really liked that laugh.

*****

The Walkaround

By the next morning, I was unsure about the whole "hot-dog-at-the-botanical-garden" plan. I mean, I didn't know the guy at all, and I was a bit nervous around cops on general principle. Still, I had made the invite, and I was likely to run into him again, so a hot dog in a public place was probably safe.

I walked up to Elwood's right at one and saw him immediately. Not that it was difficult, since he was roughly a head taller than anyone in the crowd. The weird part was that he focused on me immediately. People don't do that. People don't notice Kelsea like they do Sparkle, and he'd only seen me as Sparkle.

He smiled and I blinked. "Civvies today?"

I shook off my surprise and grinned up at him. "I'm incognito. That's how we invade you know. One day, nothing; the next, you're up to your ears in clowns." I pulled the nosecap out of my pocket and held it up. "Emergency clown gear."

He chuckled again. I kinda wished he'd stop doing that and kinda wished he'd never stop. It made my knees a little wobbly. "The world could use more clowns."

My knees got a lot wobbly.

"So what do I call you, anyway? Your placard said 'Sparkle,' I suppose I could just go with that, it suits you anyway."

"My undercover name is Kelsea. And I'm buying, I invited you."

"Sort of."

"Sort of, but close enough."

I bought a couple of drinks and foot-long hot dogs with the works for us and we just walked. That perfect no-pressure sort-of date.

"You know. You never asked for my ID."

"Yeah, Boris is undocumented and there was no reason to turn a five-minute thing into four hours of paperwork when he's just going to be released again anyway."

"So how'd ya know it was me?"

He finished his bite of food. "The way you move. It's toned down when you are in your civvies, but it's the same, in a way. You've got a kind of a bounce. Reminds me of..." He pondered for a moment, then looked down at me and gave a half-grin. "You kind of talk like Groucho, but you move like Harpo."

Damn knees nearly gave out entirely.

I couldn't help it, I went into a full Groucho walk, holding my hot dog like a cigar, and wiggled my eyebrows. "On Safari this morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas; how he got in my pajamas, I'll never know."

That rumbling laugh hit me again. "It's like Sparkle the Clown is the real you and Kelsea is the costume."

I very nearly swerved right into him but managed to cover it up with a skip. The guy was seriously impacting my equilibrium.

We walked a big chunk of the garden, talking about nothing in particular. We sort of both let each other know we weren't looking for anything serious. Me, because I was looking to get back on with a circus; him because he was moving to San Diego in a month or so. Still, he really seemed to like my jokes, even the corny old ones. I learned he'd grown up in Michigan, specifically the "U.P." which explained his distinctly not-New-York accent, though his accent had mellowed to a flat midwestern. It also explained that rough-cut lumberjack aura he had.

I definitely enjoyed the envious stares from the women passing by.

The time flew a lot faster than I thought it would, and much faster than I wanted it to. I'd asked him out to stay close to a cop when the Ivans were in the Square, but it had turned out to be the best sort-of date I'd ever had.

We ended up at the Duck Pond and I felt reality come back into focus. Björn caught it instantly. "Everything alright?"

"Just thinking. I know a guy who used to be a Ducky Boy." I stared into the water.

"Wow." Björn nodded slowly looking down into the water as well. "I've heard stories." He glanced around. "They're supposed to be long gone now, but..." He shrugged. "They say there was never just one Ducky, if you picked a fight with one, you fought them all. It gave them real power. Schools would close just on the rumor that they were coming."

"That's what he said."

Björn looked thoughtfully around. "You have to kind of respect that, they knew they could depend on each other."

We wandered back to Easterbrook's, a little more quietly.

"Hey, any chance you'd be interested in going for a drink and a meal on Saturday? Maybe

eight thirty so it doesn't cut into your livelihood?"

The smart move would have been to put him off -- it'd have been easy enough to do, he just wasn't the kind of guy to push real hard -- but... "Sure, where at?"

"You know MacKenna's near the precinct?"

"The one with the bonfire sign?"

"That's the one. Has good beer and a good crowd."

I nodded like a stupid bobble-head doll. "Sure."

Sure it was kind of pointless, but I'd had a great time with him and even if he was leaving soon, it might be fun.

****

The next couple of days passed smoothly. I was working the Park and the Dumbo; good hats, not great, but pretty good. Lots of kids, which made every day easier for me. Punchy was right about me, I'd always had a soft spot for the kids. An okay hat with a few smiling kids was ten times better than a great hat with no kids in sight.

Saturday was no exception; I even got to help a little girl find her lost mother, much to the frantic mother's relief. So I was in a pretty decent mood and not paying particular attention as I headed over to the bar Björn had named.

I hadn't see the Ivans, but one of the b-boy dancers I knew said he'd seen them a couple of days before. He hadn't talked to them, but he'd heard rumors they wanted to find me.

Damn Boris. I should have punched him harder.

As soon as I walked into MacKenna's Tavern and looked over the crowd, all the pieces came together. A bar with an Irish name. A mostly clean-cut crowd with short hair. Not a man bun in sight. In New York City. Near a police precinct.

It couldn't have been clearer if they'd have posted a neon badge over the bar.

I'm a reasonable person, but I was wearing the Chakra Crystal Bolt blue jeans. I was wearing stolen two thousand-dollar blue jeans walking into a cop bar?

I didn't even have a chance to run, Björn saw me immediately. "Over here!" He called me over to one of the rough cut oak tables where he was sitting with two other guys. He stood up and pulled the sturdy oak chair out to seat me.

He pointed to the guy across from me. "This is Smitty and this guy..." He gestured to the lanky guy across from him. "...is Dave."

I politely smiled, nervous inside as a thieving cat in a roomful of German Shepherd police dogs. "I'm Kelsea."

They both looked me over in puzzlement. Björn's expression was somewhere between "I know something you don't know" and complete delight. He pointed to the seat next to his. "I ordered you the house special. Hope you like it." He waived at the bar.

The waitress strode over with a shield-sized platter, dropping huge corned beef sandwiches in front of Smitty and Dave, then carefully placing bowls and plates in front of Björn and me.

Björn gave a broad smile. "I felt those muscles when I searched you. You don't have enough body fat to worry about a few carbs. Guinness stew and brown bread." The waitress put a pint in front of each of us. "And a nut brown ale."

"Thank you, Mary." Björn nodded to the waitress.

I started to add my thanks, but stopped when I saw that her nametag said "Jonna." She caught my confusion and smiled. "It's been a tradition here for over a hundred years, all the waitresses only answer to Mary."

"I think I'm gonna like this place." I grinned over at Björn. Two bites of stew, one of bread and a drink into my meal and I was sure I was in love.

He studied the dreamy look on my face. "What do you think?"

"I may never leave here."

That was obviously the right answer, as both Smitty and Dave gave me very approving looks.

After I'd destroyed my food, much to Björn's delight, the plates were cleared and we sat back with another round of ale. Smitty gave me an appraising look. "Björn's been entirely too smug and secretive about you, and you don't smell like a nine-to-five worker. So what's your hustle?"

Dave shook his head. "Smitty's a detective, everything's a mystery to him."

I could see Björn looking at me with anticipation. Then he sent me a wink.

Okay, fine. Game on. "I'm a busker, I work Times Square, the Dumbo, you know."

Smitty shook his head. "I've never seen you there. What's your gig?"

"You're a detective, right? I'll give you three guesses." The waitress walked up and watched curiously.

"You move well, a lot of muscle on a small frame. Something physical."

I just stared straight at him and quirked my eyebrows. "That's not a real guess."

"A dancer."

"I do dance. I've had serious professional training and I can probably dance better than anyone you know. But...no. Not a dancer."

"Singer?"

I snorted. "Only to drive off potential customers. And bears. Especially bears. Bears can eat you, you know." I said it wide-eyed.

Björn grinned. He wasn't just enjoying this; he was specifically enjoying watching me do this. I felt a rush of warmth through my whole body. The waitress narrowed her eyes in thought.

Smitty leaned back and looked at Björn. "Give me a hint."

"I'm not sure that's fair." Björn shook his head.

The waitress held her hand up. "House rules, if there's money involved, no help."

I winked at her. "There's no money on the table." I gave Smitty that wide predatory smile that I'd never give in makeup. "Go ahead, Björn, give him a hand. Tell him one object you found on me when you searched me."

He looked upward, thinking. "A silver dollar, one of the old ones."

Björn had given Smitty an obvious one, low and slow over the plate. And from the look of victory on his face, Smitty knew it.

Problem was, Björn was on my side, and Björn had pitched him a changeup.

"A street magician. Nobody else would carry a silver dollar."

I sat back with a defeated look. "Good guess. I do magic. I'm really, really good at it."

He smirked.

"...But, sadly, no. I'm not a bunny-tugger." Under the table, I slipped my red clown nosecap out of my pocket and into my napkin.

"Okay, I give."

"Hold on." I used the napkin to pretend to wipe my mouth and seated my nosecap firmly on my nose behind it. I looked down at the table in front of me, putting my left elbow on the table, leaning my forehead to rest in my left palm. Which incidentally completely blocked his view of my nose. "So, let me think if there's some kind of hint I could give you..."

Björn started chuckling. Smitty looked over at him. "What?"

With my arm up like that, anyone to the side could see the nose; Dave could see the nose, Björn could see it, people at the next few tables could see it, and "Mary" could see it, but from Smitty's angle, it would be barely visible, if at all.

The waitress started snickering, Dave was outright laughing and Björn's low chuckled rumbled into a full laugh. Damn, I loved that laugh. I almost ruined the gag by looking over at Björn, but I just caught myself.

I pointed to the table in front of Smitty. "I don't know. Let's see...you know I can dance, right?"

I tapped the table, and he reflexively looked down. I looked up the instant he looked down, then dropped back before he looked up. The waitress was holding herself up with the table and tears were coming out of her eyes.

"And you know I can't sing."

Tap. Look. Drop.

Dave was gasping for breath. A couple at the next table who'd been watching and listening started laughing.

"I have a silver dollar."

Tap. Look. Drop.

The laughter spread across three or four more tables; apparently, cops pay attention when things get weird. Who knew?

"And I can do magic."

Tap. Look. Drop.

"She's really, really good at it!" The waitress chimed in, grabbing a nearby chair to catch herself on.

By now, Smitty absolutely knew something was going on, but now he was looking around instead of at me. All the tables around us were slowly dissolving into snickers and giggles. I took the chance and shot sly winks at the nearest tables, pushing them into overdrive.

I waited until he looked back at me. "I'd think...it would be as clear..." I paused for maximum effect, dropped my left arm to the table and raised my head up to looked him right in the eye. "...as the nose on my face."

He blinked in disbelief. "How the hell..."

Laughter built in a huge wave around us. The waitress pulled herself to her feet and pointed at the bartender. "Charlie!"

He straightened up very formally and called back. "Aye, Mary?"

She held a hand up over her head, pointing straight up at the wooden beam lined ceiling. "I'm calling 'Mary's Grace.' One round on the House, and this one..." She gently touched my shoulder. "...eats and drinks for free tonight!"

The tables around exploded in applause and chants of "Mary's Grace!"

I had to catch myself on the table as it all rushed through me. It was staggering.

Can't lose the audience or look ungrateful though.

I stood up, stepped up onto the seat of my chair, paused and stepped up onto the back of the chair. It wasn't even a tough balance on the back of the heavily built chair. Dave started, but Björn didn't reach out to catch or steady the chair. He simply assumed I knew what I was doing.

As gracefully as possible, I bowed to the audience three times, then slid back down into my chair to a very appreciative applause. Of course, winning everyone free beer is pretty much a guarantee of a warm applause, I suppose. But still...

Smitty slowly shook his head. "A clown. A real one. Some serious training to do that stuff. Circus?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but I'm kind of stuck here for a while."

"Seriously, how the hell did you do the nose thing?"

"Misdirection, mostly. Some sleight of hand. That was kind of a variation of the old Slydini paper ball trick. It works on the person it's aimed at, everybody else can see exactly what's going on."

Smitty nodded respectfully. "That's what makes it so funny, right?"

He got it. "It can come off as mean if you do it wrong or to the wrong person. You really have to gauge the audience, I could tell it would work here."

Dave was still chuckling. "Cops have a rough sense of humor; that was perfect."

Björn reached over and squeezed my hand. "I did warn you guys. I told you that underestimating her would be a bad idea."

He started to pull his hand back, but I impulsively caught it and squeezed before letting go. The laughter and applause had me feeling like my heart was going to just explode like a firework but in a good way.

We stayed a bit late. I ate too much and drank a little more beer and Irish whisky than I should have, but it was a blast.

I got to be me. I pulled off some magic effects, ran some gags and, with Mary's permission, I showed them a handstand on the back of one of the chairs.

Björn never looked away, totally focused on me.

Our little table ended up with 30 or more people crowded around; it might not have been the huge crowd of the circus, but it hit me far harder than a little whisky or beer could. The warmth of the applause and laughter reached all the way into my bones.

By the time we walked out, I was holding Björn's hand, practically bouncing. I looked up at him. "So, where do you live?"

"About a block over that way." He pointed.

"Good. Because if I have to drag you back to my place, it'd take me a half-hour and that would be a waste of time."

We reached his building and it seemed like he might be having second thoughts. "Look Kelsea, are you sure..."

He never got to finish because I bounced up, had my legs wrapped around his waist and was kissing him before he could.

Everybody has a "thing." Something that makes them giddy and crazy, something that sends them soaring. And I'd had a full evening of it.

I wasn't even trying to stop myself. I wasn't letting go at all; for a moment Björn had to brace me against the entrance door while he fumbled his key card out and punched us in.

*****

I woke up snuggled up tight against him. I could hear heavy rain, and the dim light seemed to say this was no passing shower. I hoped he didn't have to be anywhere early because I was perfectly happy right here.

I hadn't exactly asked for the polite tour, but from what I remembered and could see, his one-bedroom apartment was a lot nicer than the apartment I'd been sharing. Nothing huge, of course, but it was clean, neatly set up and everything in it seemed to speak of a guy "between girlfriends" rather than a habitual bachelor.

Out through the bedroom door, I could see a small beer brewing project on a side table.

I felt him stir, and I turned my head to catch him looking at me. "You going to sneak out on me? Leave behind one giant red shoe?"

"The Legend of Clownderella. After his wonderous visit to the Circus, Poor Prince Charming wanders the Kingdom, desperately trying to find his true love with that red shoe." I gave a tragic sigh. "Tis said to be the sad fate of those that love a clown too deeply."

He chuckled. The man had such a great laugh. He glanced around. "So do I pass inspection?"

"We didn't trip over pizza boxes and empty beer bottles on the way in." I shot him a smile.

"I fought an all-out war with cockroaches the size of cars in my first place in the city. I don't ever want to do that again."

"Been there, done that."

Björn slid a hand along my shoulders. "For somebody so small, you're nothing but muscle."

"I have to stay in shape, it's easy to get hurt in a physical gag in the circus."

"So why did you become a clown? Is it a family thing?"

I snuggled in closer and thought about it for a moment. I had all the stock answers, all the clever jokes and I'd used them most of my life. But it was kind of dark and I was warm and safe and...I just didn't feel like using them. Not with him.

"I had a friend when I was growing up. Her name was Lisa, she lived down the street. We were the same age and we did everything together. We were the Terrible Twosome of Tenth Street. Until about fifth grade." I paused trying to convince myself to go on.