hat being the only normal garment Tommy could buy outside of a children's wear department. Kellerman was a dwarf.
"That raincoat's seen some wear!" She tried to sound casual, but her heart was hammering, and she glanced around furtively to see if there was anyone she knew close by.
"We got to talk, Ruda."
"I've got nothing to say to you, Tommy, and I'm busy right now."
Kellerman inched his leather hat up a fraction. "You didn't change your name. How come?"
"I paid enough to use it; beside, I like it."
Ruda walked a few steps to the side of the cage, out of sight of passersby. She leaned against the cage, gestured for him to come to her. After a moment, Kellerman joined her. His sweet-smelling cologne wafted up, mixing with the smell of the cats' urine.
"Like I said, Ruda, we need to talk. I just got in from Paris, I got a room in the Hotel Berlin."
Kellerman had a small leather bag; he dropped it by his tiny feet. Then he leaned against the wheel of the cage, his square hands stuffed into the small pockets, his polished child's shoes and red socks scuffed with mud.
"Have you been to my trailer?…asked for me there?"
He laughed his high-pitched laugh, and shook his head. "No, I came straight from the station. I've been following you, I keep on seeing your posters, your face. You are the star attraction. You got what you wanted, eh?"
"What do you want, Tommy?" Her voice was flat and emotionless.
He looked up at her, and inched his hat further up his domed forehead, scratching his head. Then he removed the hat and ran his stubby fingers through thick curly hair flecked with gray. The last time Ruda had seen him, it had been coal black. It was the nicest thing about him, his curly hair. She noticed it was dirty now, sweaty from the hat.
"I said, what do you want, Tommy? You're not here for a job are you? Not after what happened—they wouldn't touch you. I'm surprised you can still find circuses that'll employ you."
Kellerman spat into the mud.
"Isn't there someplace we can discuss this comfortably? It's raining, and I could do with a bite to eat…"
"I'm real busy, Tommy, it's feeding time, maybe we can meet someplace later."
He stared up at her, and his eyes searched hers before he spoke.
"You owe me, Ruda: All I want is my fair share. I can't get work, good work. I'm broke, I've had to sell most of my props and, well, I reckon you can give me a cut."
"Cut of what?"
"Well, there's a few ways to look at it. I'm still your legal husband, and I bet any dough your old man doesn't know that!
Now you are rollin' in it, and you're on the number one circuit, this must be one hell of a contract…and all I want is a part of it, you either get me in on the act…"
"They'd fucking eat you, Tommy…no way!"
One of the helpers passed the small alleyway between the cages. He paused. "Excuse me, Mrs. Grimaldi, but the freezers are open. You want to come over and sign for the meat?"
Ruda nodded. "Be right with you, Mike."
Ruda hid Tommy by standing in front of him, and she remained there until Mike had left.
"Ruda, I need money, I'm broke."
She turned on him, snapping angrily. "When have you not needed money, Tommy? If it moves, you'll slap a bet on it. You owed me, remember? I paid you off years ago, I owe you nothing."
Kellerman's face twisted with anger. "You had no thin', not even a fucking passport, I got you out of Berlin. Me! I put food in your mouth, clothes on your back. Don't give me this bullshit, you owe me a lot, Ruda, and if Grimaldi were to know you are still married, he'd hit the fuckin' roof... I keep my ears to the ground, bitch, I know you took over his act, and I know he's relegated to watchin' outside the ring like a prick! And I hear he hates it, he's still screwing everythin' in a skirt, so how do you think he'd feel if he knew you never got divorced? I reckon he'd be a happy man, Ruda. Now you tell me how much you owe me? I am your husband, and I got the marriage license to prove it. You got
"That raincoat's seen some wear!" She tried to sound casual, but her heart was hammering, and she glanced around furtively to see if there was anyone she knew close by.
"We got to talk, Ruda."
"I've got nothing to say to you, Tommy, and I'm busy right now."
Kellerman inched his leather hat up a fraction. "You didn't change your name. How come?"
"I paid enough to use it; beside, I like it."
Ruda walked a few steps to the side of the cage, out of sight of passersby. She leaned against the cage, gestured for him to come to her. After a moment, Kellerman joined her. His sweet-smelling cologne wafted up, mixing with the smell of the cats' urine.
"Like I said, Ruda, we need to talk. I just got in from Paris, I got a room in the Hotel Berlin."
Kellerman had a small leather bag; he dropped it by his tiny feet. Then he leaned against the wheel of the cage, his square hands stuffed into the small pockets, his polished child's shoes and red socks scuffed with mud.
"Have you been to my trailer?…asked for me there?"
He laughed his high-pitched laugh, and shook his head. "No, I came straight from the station. I've been following you, I keep on seeing your posters, your face. You are the star attraction. You got what you wanted, eh?"
"What do you want, Tommy?" Her voice was flat and emotionless.
He looked up at her, and inched his hat further up his domed forehead, scratching his head. Then he removed the hat and ran his stubby fingers through thick curly hair flecked with gray. The last time Ruda had seen him, it had been coal black. It was the nicest thing about him, his curly hair. She noticed it was dirty now, sweaty from the hat.
"I said, what do you want, Tommy? You're not here for a job are you? Not after what happened—they wouldn't touch you. I'm surprised you can still find circuses that'll employ you."
Kellerman spat into the mud.
"Isn't there someplace we can discuss this comfortably? It's raining, and I could do with a bite to eat…"
"I'm real busy, Tommy, it's feeding time, maybe we can meet someplace later."
He stared up at her, and his eyes searched hers before he spoke.
"You owe me, Ruda: All I want is my fair share. I can't get work, good work. I'm broke, I've had to sell most of my props and, well, I reckon you can give me a cut."
"Cut of what?"
"Well, there's a few ways to look at it. I'm still your legal husband, and I bet any dough your old man doesn't know that!
Now you are rollin' in it, and you're on the number one circuit, this must be one hell of a contract…and all I want is a part of it, you either get me in on the act…"
"They'd fucking eat you, Tommy…no way!"
One of the helpers passed the small alleyway between the cages. He paused. "Excuse me, Mrs. Grimaldi, but the freezers are open. You want to come over and sign for the meat?"
Ruda nodded. "Be right with you, Mike."
Ruda hid Tommy by standing in front of him, and she remained there until Mike had left.
"Ruda, I need money, I'm broke."
She turned on him, snapping angrily. "When have you not needed money, Tommy? If it moves, you'll slap a bet on it. You owed me, remember? I paid you off years ago, I owe you nothing."
Kellerman's face twisted with anger. "You had no thin', not even a fucking passport, I got you out of Berlin. Me! I put food in your mouth, clothes on your back. Don't give me this bullshit, you owe me a lot, Ruda, and if Grimaldi were to know you are still married, he'd hit the fuckin' roof... I keep my ears to the ground, bitch, I know you took over his act, and I know he's relegated to watchin' outside the ring like a prick! And I hear he hates it, he's still screwing everythin' in a skirt, so how do you think he'd feel if he knew you never got divorced? I reckon he'd be a happy man, Ruda. Now you tell me how much you owe me? I am your husband, and I got the marriage license to prove it. You got
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