Fortune by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online Page A

took a step toward the man, not too proud to beg. “I have to have one. I’ll work hard. You’ll see.”
    â€œEverybody with my troupe works hard. Sorry, kid.” The man spit another wad of phlegm, this time directly into the pile of swept trash. “Maybe next year.”
    He turned and walked away. Chance stared after him, stunned, disbelieving. Just like that, and he was screwed. Back to the farm with you, kid. Back to hell on earth.
    â€œWait!” Chance hurried after the man. “I’ll do anything, the dirtiest most low-down job you have. Just give me a chance.”
    Abner Marvel’s ugly face actually seemed to soften. He shook his head. “Look, kid, I’ve got nothin’. No jobs. I’m sorry.”
    â€œBut…somebody might quit tonight,” he said, grasping at straws. “They might get fired. It’s good to have an extra person, just in case.”
    â€œCan’t afford a ‘just in case.’” The momentary sympathy Chance had seen on the man’s face was replaced with annoyance. “Look, nobody quits midseason. Nobody in their right mind, anyway. We come all the way up here to God’s country from our winter quarters in Florida, and none of my boys wants to get caught without a way back. And the only thing that’ll get one of this crew fired is drinking, fighting and hittin’ on the local jailbait. None of my boys been doin’ that either, at least not that I’ve seen. They know better. Is that plain enough for you?”
    He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Go on now. Get lost. I’ve got things to do.”
    This time Chance did not follow Abner Marvel. The carnival’s owner had made it clear that he was not going to give Chance a job.
    Unless one suddenly opened up. Unless a miracle happened.
    A miracle.
    Chance narrowed his eyes. There had to be a way. He wasn’t going to be like his mother and spend his life wishing for the things he didn’t have, the opportunities that had never come his way.
    Sometimes in life, you had to make your own opportunities. Your own miracles.
    His mother hadn’t understood that. He did.
    Chance turned and headed back out to the midway. He wandered the wide aisle, aware of each minute ticking past. Tonight was the carnival’s last night in Lancaster County. Tomorrow would be too late.
    From the shooting-gallery booth to his right, Chance became aware of arguing. He shifted his attention to the two carnies working it. One was taunting the other with a tale of a sexual exploit—with the girl the other wanted.
    â€œYou see this, asshole?” The uglier of the two boys held up a plastic sandwich bag he’d dug from his back pocket. “When Marlene gets a look at this, you won’t have another chance with her. So you better remember what she tasted like, ’cause that’s the only taste you’re going to get.”
    The second boy guffawed, “Yeah, right. Like one joint is really going to impress her.”
    Several players stepped up to the booth, and the first boy tucked his bag behind the wooden ticket box. Chance watched the two as they helped the players, noting how, as each moved by the other in the booth, they delivered surreptitious blows, jabs and obscenities to the other.
    Chance eyed the boys, an idea occurring to him. The two had been drinking; Chance was certain of it. Their tempers were short, their inhibitions dulled by drink. If the bag and joint disappeared, the first boy would blame the second and a fight was sure to break out.
    Of course, if he got caught, they would beat the crap out of him and he would be tossed off the carnival lot. But if he didn’t…
    This might be his only shot. He had to take it.
    He watched. And waited. The opportunity presented itself—in the form of the fought-over Marlene. Personally, except for the pair of awesome hooters covered by a severely overextended tube top, Chance