Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I clutch my phone, pacing the length of the circus tent, the vibrant colors dulled by the winter chill. “Professor Stratford, I appreciate your time. I know you’re busy.”

“Not at all, Miss Cole. I’m intrigued by your vision for a Romeo and Juliet performance in a circus setting,” William Stratford’s voice crackles through the speaker, smooth and authoritative.

I take a deep breath. “We want to emphasize the themes of love, tragedy, and sacrifice. Something powerful that resonates with our audience.”

“Of course, those are essential elements,” he replies. “However, it’s also worth noting that Romeo and Juliet can be viewed as a coming-of-age story. The lovers are young, impetuous, and their tragic end underscores their immaturity.”

My heart sinks. A coming-of-age story? That’s not what I had in mind. “I see,” I say, unable to mask my disappointment.

“But wait,” he interrupts, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Your point about romance is valid too. Remember, all those fancy analyses and notes in the margins? Shakespeare didn’t write them. He wanted his plays to be open to interpretation.”

I stop pacing, hope rekindling inside me. “So you mean… there’s no single right answer?”

“Precisely,” he affirms. “Even so-called experts in Shakespeare disagree on interpretations. Which means there’s no single correct answer. There’s only how the plays move us.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “That’s reassuring. We want our show to be something that captures the raw emotion and intensity of their love.”

“And it sounds like you’re on the right track,” Stratford says. “I’m excited to see how you bring this to life under the big top. His plays weren’t all serious and tragic. He was a fan of comedy. Of lightness. Of laughter. The circus is a beautiful place to honor one of his works.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh of relief. “Thank you, Professor Stratford. Your insights mean a lot to us.”

“Send me tickets when you premiere,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I’d love to see it in person.”

“Absolutely,” I promise.

As I hang up, a renewed sense of purpose courses through me. Our Romeo and Juliet will be more than just a tale of star-crossed lovers. It will be an emotional journey that captivates our audience’s hearts.

The tent is alive with activity—acrobats flipping through the air with breathtaking ease, musicians tuning their instruments to create an atmosphere of enchantment. Every performer moves with a sense of urgency and purpose and incredible skill. Without Nadia, we’re not including a trapeze solo. Instead we have two people on silks, both strong athletes who are excited for the show.

The lack of a ringmaster is a little more tricky.

Emerson Durand was an asshole.

But he was a damned good ringmaster.

I’m not sure who can replace him.

It comes to me: we don’t have to replace him. What if the story isn’t told to us, explained to us, fed to us with the notes in the margin? What if people in the audience can explore the emotions it brings up in them?

What if the show means something a little different to everyone?

I’m lost in thought, choreographing the next scene in my head, when a familiar yip breaks my concentration. My heart leaps as I spin around to see Maisie standing at the tent entrance, Tricks wriggling excitedly in her arms.

“Surprise!” Maisie grins, setting the little dog down.

Tricks bolts toward me, his tiny paws skittering across the mats on the floor. I drop to my knees, scooping him up as he showers my face with enthusiastic licks.

“Oh, I missed you, buddy,” I laugh, burying my face in his soft fur.

Maisie approaches, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. “How’s the new show coming?”

I stand, cradling Tricks. “Slow but steady. What’s the word on the outside?”

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through a series of articles. “Support for Logan’s growing. People are sharing stories about how the circus changed their lives. It’s gaining traction.”

Hope flutters in my chest. “That’s great.”

“That’s not even the best part,” Maisie’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “One of our videos went mega-viral! Like it’s got a million likes and counting.”

My heart races. “Which one? The one about Logan’s case?”

“Not exactly. It’s that amazing aerial silk routine you guys were practicing yesterday. People are losing their minds over it.”

My excitement deflates. “Oh. That’s… good, I guess. But it won’t help clear Logan’s name.”

Maisie puts a hand on my arm. “Don’t you see? It’s all connected. The viral video shows how talented and professional your circus is. It’s part of the bigger picture—the story of this amazing group trapped by small-town prejudice.”

“You’re right,” I say, scratching Tricks behind the ears. “It all helps. In a way this has always been more about public opinion than the facts of the case.”

Maisie grins. “That’s what best friends are for.”

We read through some of the comments—most of them enthusiastic, some of them derogatory, because it’s the internet.

Wolfgang appears in the practice tent.

His eyes narrow at Maisie. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“More than you,” she says without missing a beat.

“I’d say so.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment. “We got people calling saying they want to get tickets, but they can’t. What the hell’s that about? Why can’t they buy tickets? We can’t have sold out.”

She snorts, the sound still somehow feminine. “Yeah, because the auctions are going bananas. Tickets are up to two thousand bucks apiece.”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

Wolfgang’s usual stoic expression softens almost imperceptibly. “Hell.”

Maisie stands a little taller. “Yeah. Hell.”

I can’t help but smile. There’s definitely something brewing there.

The moment is broken by the shrill ring of Maisie’s phone. She jumps, fumbling to pull it from her pocket.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, staring at the screen. “It’s CNN!”

Holy shit. “Answer it!”

Maisie nods, her eyes wide. “I’m going,” she says, already heading for the exit. “I’ll be back for Tricks later.”

As Maisie dashes out, I turn to Wolfgang, an impish grin spreading across my face. “So,” I say, drawing out the word, “do you still think Maisie is an enemy townie who doesn’t belong here?”

Wolfgang grunts. “Maybe not.”

I lower my voice conspiratorially. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked like a certain knife thrower might be having soft and fuzzy feelings.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s… spirited.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“We have bigger things to worry about than my fuzzy feelings.”

“Yeah,” I say, my smile fading as reality sets back in. “But it’s good to see some light in all the darkness.”

Tricks is busy charming treats from a group of jugglers. I call him over. His ears perk up at the sound of my voice, and he scampers over.

“Alright, buddy,” I say, crouching down to his level. “Time to earn your kibble. Or the oat berry energy bar they were feeding you.”

I lead him to the center of the practice area, where the ribbons are set for the death scene. The routine is breathtaking—a fluid, heart-wrenching duet that symbolizes the tragic end of Romeo and Juliet . But after such an emotional climax, we need something to lift the audience’s spirits.

That’s where Tricks comes in.

Except we seem to be missing our Juliet.

“Where’s Cat?” I ask Romeo, aka Felix.

He shrugs. “She’s been gone a lot.”

Shit. That’s not like her. Is she still resentful about my role here?

I have to figure out what’s happening with her, but not right now.

Now it’s practice time.

“Okay, Tricks,” I say, holding up his tiny brown robe. “Let’s get you into character.”

He sits patiently as I slip the costume over his head, adjusting it so his paws are free. With his floppy ear and the oversized robe, he looks absolutely ridiculous—and completely adorable.

“Perfect.” I grin. “You’re officially Friar Laurence.”

I set up a small vial on the other side of the practice area, filled with water dyed a deep purple. “Alright, Friar,” I say, pointing to the vial. “Go fetch the poison.”

Tricks cocks his head, his eyes darting between me and the vial. I repeat the command, and he takes off, his little robe flapping behind him. He grabs the vial carefully in his mouth and trots back, tail wagging proudly.

“Good boy!”