After Joshua dropped him off at his studio, Danny fed Curry, put on a pot of coffee, changed his clothes, and slipped gently back into his routine. The Tunnel of Love, the night in the barn, giggling and snorting in the shower with Josh... He should have been exhausted today, but instead he felt strangely energized, as though he had just finished a strenuous cardio workout at the gym. Not so far from the truth, he thought with a chuckle.
He paged through the photos from yesterday's visit to the carnival. He had not used the camera inside the Tunnel of Love -- which was probably just as well -- but he had a good crop of images from the midway. A few dozen pictures would satisfy the terms of his commission from the city.
Josh had work to catch up on at the farm, so for today Danny was going to risk the carnival on his own. What else could happen? he thought with amusement. Could it possibly get any weirder?
Danny went to lunch at Allie Fairweather's diner, planning to go from there to the fairgrounds. He hopped up onto a stool at the counter and placed his order with Michael, Allie's son, a breathtakingly beautiful nineteen-year-old with as much personality as a basket of wet laundry.
"Anything else?"
"No, thank you, Michael. Where's your mother today?"
The boy shrugged. "Out somewhere, I guess."
"Ah. Thanks."
Danny sipped his iced tea and watched Michael's hard little backside as the boy slouched away to place the food order. Such a waste, he thought with a grin.
A bony hand gripped his shoulder. "Danny, Danny, Danny. I thought you were above ogling Michael Fairweather."
Danny turned to face the newcomer. "Hayden! I thought you were in Miami or somewhere doing a book tour."
The novelist folded his lanky six-three frame onto the stool next to Danny's. "I was. Six cities in two weeks. I'm too fucking old for this." He ordered lunch from the sullen archangel behind the counter. "There was some confusion about scheduling on the last two dates so I had the opportunity to call it off and come home early."
"The price of fame. I saw a writeup somewhere of one of the stops."
"I hope it wasn't the Atlanta Herald-Star piece. They barely mentioned my recent books, just went on and one about my various sexual misadventures. They stopped short of calling me an old pervert, but only just."
"If the shoe fit..."
"Et tu, Brute? Anyway, it probably won't hurt sales. Old perverts are big business these days."
Hayden was tall and looked even taller due to his lanky, leggy build. His bony head was mostly mouth and ears, and his short, woolly hair was more salt than pepper. He was Danny's oldest and closest friend in Bancroft, as well as an occasional bedmate.
"You've got a bit of a glow," Hayden commented, munching on crackers from the tiny packets in a bowl on the counter, sprinkling crumbs everywhere. "May I ask who's responsible?" Danny blushed and Hayden chortled. "Oh, my. Tell me, tell me."
"It's not that big a thing. I spent last night in a hay loft with Joshua Bridges."
Hayden's grin was almost wider than his face. "The farm boy? I'm good friends with his mother. Those twins are -- " He made an extravagant gesture of kissing his fingertips. "Such as shame that one of them went to the dark side, although I do love his wife Toni. So you and Josh Bridges, huh? You like him, I can tell. I mean, aside from his obvious charms. In a hay loft, no less! How very Jane Russell of you."
"Hayden, I wish you'd either shut up or go back on tour."
The novelist laughed and patted Danny on the back. "All right, all right. I won't push. He is a lovely man, though, and smarter than he lets on. He's a lot like his mother. I approve."
"He's got me in a bit of a muddle," Danny admitted. "I'm not used to getting so involved with a guy."
"Do you think he's relationship material?"
Danny grimaced. "He might be, but I'm sure as hell not. You know that."
"I don't know 'bout that. Stranger things have happened than you falling for a hot cowboy."
Their food arrived and conversation drifted into more neutral territory.
"Have you heard about the carnival?" Danny asked.
"Max told me something about it when he picked me up at the airport." Max was Hayden's assistant, a mysterious little man born somewhere in Central Asia and reputed to have unusual sexual proclivities, as well as an uncanny ability to know just about everything about everybody in Bancroft at all times, without ever leaving the Hayden's house. "Have you been to see it?"
Danny grinned around his sandwich. "I'm taking pictures every day for a commission from the Mayor's office." He gulped down the food in his mouth and grabbed Hayden's elbow. "I'm on my way there after this. Come with me! Either I'm losing my mind or there's something weird about this carnival."
"Really! You interest me strangely. What's it called, this extravaganza?"
"Goodfellow and Mills."
Hayden's eyes widened. "Goodfellow? No shit?"
"Yes, why? You've heard of them?"
"No. Just the name. Have you forgotten your Shakespeare? 'Either I mistake your shape and making quite,/Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite/Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are you not he/That frights the maidens of the villagery...' It's the other name for Puck, the mischievous little fairy who plays tricks on everybody with a love potion, making all sorts of hot and sweaty mayhem."
"Hmph. I had forgotten about him. Midsummer Night's Dream."
"Exactly."
"Quite a coincidence," Danny added, thinking back over the last couple of days.
"You don't say." Hayden's grin was a foot wide. "Eat your lunch, Danny Boy. We're going to the fair."
Business was brisk along the midway, and the air was full of the smells of frying, of burnt sugar, of animals, and of human sweat. Children yelled and squealed and giggled, adults chatted in loud, jovial voices, bells rang and barkers called out their well-rehearsed speeches. Hayden seemed to know everyone, and their progress along the midway was slow.
"Over there," Hayden said after a time, pointing. "There nobody over there. What's that? I didn't bring my glasses."
"'Hall of Mirrors', the sign says."
Hayden nodded. "Let's check it out. I'm feeling a little claustrophobic in this crowd."
The barker for the Hall of Mirrors was a young man no more than four and a half feet tall, with curly black hair, a snub nose, and the mouth of Michelangelo's David. He was dressed in rough green leggings and a leather vest that hung open over a lean, muscular chest. He was standing on a kind of pedestal behind a podium.
"Welcome, gentlemen! Step up to the Hall of Mirrors, where you'll see truth and lies at the same time."
"That's quite an assertion," Hayden said, his face alight with mischief.
"And it's both true and deceptive, just like the images in a mirror. Step inside and see for yourself, sir."
As Hayden paid for two tickets, Danny held up his camera. "May I take a couple of pictures of you? I'm the city's photographer."
"We know all about you, Mr. Brandenburg. Probably more than you know about yourself." The barker struck a pose. "I love having my picture made. Should I take off my clothes first?"
Hayden chortled. "Well, if that's an option -- "
"Shut up, Hayden." To the barker, he said, "No, that won't be necessary."
The barker shrugged with a grin of complicity at Hayden. "Oh, well. You're missing my best feature. Snap away."
Danny took several images as the young barker posed and preened atop his pedestal, then thanked him.
"My pleasure, gents." He pulled back a curtain made of long strings of mirrored disks, like coins. "Step right in."
"Didn't you see the package in those tights? You're getting awfully prudish in your old age," Hayden observed as they passed along a dim hallway hung with blue curtains.
"Only compared to you, you old pervert."
Hayden laughed. "I've missed you. Next time I do one of these trips, you should come with me."