Phillip stood in the doorway, a fake smile plastered across his features, as he welcomed visitors to the theatre, it was the third night of his newest play. They were most complimentary, some raving about the reviews they had read in The New York Times, others very keen to tell him that this was their second viewing since they loved the first so much. Thanking them all kindly, Phillip stayed until the last of the audience had stepped inside, and then left. He simply walked out, reaching for his flask like some might reach for the hand of a lover in times of need.
Leaning against a pillar, nursing his whiskey, he heard a man approach him. Briefly looking up, he saw an impressive looking man, clad in a well-made suit and top hat. "Mr Carlyle?" he asked. "Did you produce this play?"
"Yes, I did," Phillip replied, screwing the cap of his flask shut.
The man chuckled as he extended an arm to the writer. "P. T. Barnum," he introduced himself.
Surprised, Phillip couldn't hide his expression from his face. "From the circus?"
"You've been?" Barnum responded, as Phillip took his hand.
"God no," Phillip snorted, before he could stop himself. All that whiskey was starting to loosen his tongue. Thinking of a way he could amend his rudeness, he rushed to say something flattering. "But I have seen the crowds. People leave your shows a great deal happier than when they went in. That's much more than I could say for my play."
"And yet you have no trouble selling tickets," Barnum pointed out, not visibly offended by Phillip's earlier slip.
"That's because I'm selling virtue," Phillip mustered, trying to explain his crowds in comparison to Barnum's circus. Not only was he part of the crowd, he knew what they liked, 'honour' and 'integrity', which is why he attracted the men and women with a desire to show off their finery and high standings.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
Phillip showed Barnum to his favourite bar, not many upper class people attended but it still had a good atmosphere. Recognising Phillip as he walked through the door, the bartender poured out a large glass of whisky with a nod of his head. Sitting down at the countertop, Barnum looked around, impressed.
"I want to go after the aristocracy," Barnum explained as Phillip downed his drink in one. "Purchase some legitimate acts, expand our appeal, go after the stars. Join us! You clearly have a flair for show business."
Struggling to comprehend the proposition from this man he had known all of ten minutes, Phillip looked at his companion dubiously, searching his expression for even the slightest hint of mocking. Yet all he found was earnestness. "What's show business?"
"I just invented it," Barnum replied with a twinkle in his eye. "Teach me how to appeal to the high brows."
The bartender, ever reliable, placed a round of whiskey shots in front of the two men, to which they knocked back instantly. Experience and practice on his side, Phillip was the first to finish, as he turned to face the man once more. "Are you serious? Mr Barnum, I can't just run off and join the circus."
"Why not? Sounds thrilling, doesn't it?"
"Let's just say I find it much more comfortable admiring your show from afar."
"Comfort; the enemy of progress," Barnum smirked, as he tossed a peanut into the air and caught it without hesitation in his mouth.
"You understand that just associating myself with you could cost you my inheritance?" Phillip inquired, pushing the refilled glass in front of Barnum.
"Oh, it could cost you more than that," Barnum laughed. "You'd be risking everything, but on the other hand you might just find yourself a free man."
He slid the glass back in Phillip's direction, as the appeal of being independent and free from all societal restraints began to become clear. Phillip drank the glass empty, unable to resist the urge, his mind was starting to spin. Yet, Mr Barnum kept pushing drinks his way. Barnum broke out into song, Phillip assumed he couldn't hold his alcohol, actually Barnum had decided to show Phillip how fun and exciting it was to perform instead of just produce.
( P.T. Barnum, Phillip Carlyle, Both)
Right here, right now
I put the offer out
I don't want to chase you down
I know you see it
You run with me
And I can cut you free
Out of the treachery and walls you keep in
So trade that typical for something colorful
And if it's crazy, live a little crazy
You can play it sensible, a king of conventional
Or you can risk it all and see
Barnum popped his top hat on and turned around. Pushing Phillip to face his direction.
Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play
'Cause I got what you need
So come with me and take the ride
It'll take you to the other side
Barnum jumped on top of a table and started to dance while he sung.
'Cause you can do like you do
Or you can do like me
Stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key
Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly
It'll take you to the other side
He climbed down and poured Phillip another shot, for some reason he decided to join in on Barnum's song.
Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in
Well I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen
He pushed the shot back to the older man.
So thanks, but no
I think I'm good to go
He started to leave, pulling his scarf and top hat on.
'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in
Now I admire you, and that whole show you do
You're onto something, really it's something
He had to admit he really admired the circus. But he had way too much pride to join the man.
But I live among the swells, and we don't pick up peanut shells
I'll have to leave that up to you
Suddenly, Phillip was hit with a burst of confidence and he threw his coat and scarf to the side.
Don't you know that I'm okay with this uptown part I get to play
'Cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride
I don't need to see the other side
He climbed on top of the bar and started to dance as well.
So go and do like you do
I'm good to do like me
Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key
Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine
I don't need to see the other side
He gathered his things again.
Now is this really how you like to spend your days?
Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays
If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town
Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns
He drank again, not noticing Barnum leaving his full.
But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little
Just let me give you the freedom to dream and it'll
Wake you up and cure your aching
Take your walls and start 'em breaking
Now that's a deal that seems worth taking
But I guess I'll leave that up to you
Barnum was a good businessman, he could sell ice to an Eskimo. He knew exactly what Phillip wanted from life.
Well it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly
So what percentage of the show would I be taking?
Fair enough, you'd want a piece of all the action
I'd give you seven, we could shake and make it happen
I wasn't born this morning, eighteen would be just fine
Why not just go ahead and ask for nickels on the dime
Fifteen
I'd do eight
Twelve
Maybe nine
Ten
The bartender drummed his fingers on the bar. Expecting payment, Barnum patted himself down, looking for money. Phillip smirked and handed over much more money than what was owed.
Suddenly, he found himself shaking hands with Barnum, the pair grinning like Cheshire cats. It appeared he had agreed to become partner, on the condition that he received ten percent of the profits. Barnum was more than happy to agree to his terms, as he held the man steady and upright.
"Sir, looks like you've found yourself a junior partner."
Barnum chuckled and passed a shot over to Phillip, "What i have is an overcompensated apprentice."
The men finished their drinks and Barnum turned to Phillip gleefully. "Would like to see what you've invested in, Mr Carlyle?"
"Please, call me Phillip - we're partners now!"
Don't you wanna get away to a whole new part you're gonna play
'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride
To the other side
After rushing through the building drizzle, Phillip soon in the backstage of Barnum's circus, and it was the middle of a show. People were breathing fire, throwing things around, there were giants and little people. There were so many things to take in at once.
So if you do like I do
So if you do like me
Forget the cage, 'cause we know how to make the key
Phillip was so overwhelmed he tumbled over a crate.
Oh, damn! Suddenly we're free to fly
We're going to the other side
So if you do like I do
So if you do like me
'Cause if we do we're going to the other side
Lettie giggled at the two charming men tipping their hats to her.
We're going to the other
Barnum pushed Phillip through the curtains in front of him. Phillip could only breathe out his last words.
Side
The crowd's cheers hit him like a brick. They were deafening. They didn't cheer like that after his plays. He was awestruck by the spectacle unfolding on the stage, an eruption of colour and music and talent, all of which the likes he had never even dreamed of. A trio, two women and a man, were performing jaw-dropping stunts on aerial equipment in the sky.
That's when he saw her. Hanging upside down on a wire, a good twenty feet above the audience, he watched as she flew towards him, the whole world slowing down. Taking his hat off, as it was good manners, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the girl. She had long curly locks the colour of lavender, her lips were so soft and pink. Her cheeks glowed, and he could see the glitter dusted on her face as it dazzled in the spotlight. Her skin was the colour of coffee, and her costume a spectacular pink that matched her lips. Her eyes, were the colour of the whiskey he was hooked upon, he'd never drink the liquid again if he could just look at those eyes forever, they were locked with his, and he knew right then and there would never be anybody else for him. Nobody as graceful as her, nobody as sparkling as her, nobody as unbelievable as her.
She had taken his breath away, and it was a while until he retrieved it. Phillip wondered if she had seen him as he had seen her, if she'd been just as enchanted.
"Who is that?" he muttered under his breath.
"Phoebe Whitlock, although her stage name is Phoebe Wheeler" Barnum answered, appearing at his shoulder. Phillip had forgotten completely about him, and jumped slightly when he heard his voice. "Quite the talent, isn't she? She's one of our most popular acts, not only part of the trio but does solo acts as well. She performs with Anne and W.D Wheeler. They are very close and very protective of each other."
He was still captivated, watching as the siblings left the ring. A hole in the roof was uncovered and the pounding rain came rushing through. Phoebe was left in the middle of the ring and was soaked as the rain poured on top of her. Two lengths of fabric dropped down next to her. ANne ran on with a bright pink silk scarf. She seemed to whisper in Phoebe's ear as she tied it tightly around her head, covering her 'sister's' eyes.
Anne left and Phoebe blindly grabbed at the now wet fabric. She held tightly as she was lifted 20 feet up. Phillip was scared for the girl's life. "What is she doing?"
"What she does best. This is a favourite of mine, an aerial silk dance while blindfolded, extremely dangerous."
She started to perform flips and spins only supported by the fabric she held onto. She started to sing, was there nothing this woman couldn't do, her voice was that of an angel's.
He is my sun. He makes me shine.
Phoebe's performance came to a climax as she danced herself as high as possible and sat in an upside down split, now thirty feet in the air. Abruptly she dropped ten feet, the audience gave an audible gasp, Phoebe didn't know it but right now she was facing Phillip and singing right in his direction.
Will you still love when I am no longer young and beautiful?
Yes, yes I will. Phillip thought as this goddess seemed to sing right at him before swiftly moving again.
Barnum gestured for Phillip to follow him backstage, but he was reluctant to tear his eyes off of Phoebe Whitlock. Then, as if reading his thoughts, she finished her song as she slowly descended to the ground. Phillip thundered down the stairs after a speedy Barnum, ducking and dodging an assortment of props that were flying around.
"W. D, Anne… Phoebe, I want to introduce my newest hire, Mr Phillip Carlyle," Barnum exclaimed, as the trio came jogging through.
Looking up, Phillip saw the towering frame of W. D. Wheeler, built like a powerhouse, and dressed in his purple, glittering costume, it would almost have been comical. His skin was like chocolate, and his grin was friendly. "It's a pleasure to meet you," W. D. said as he outstretched a hand for him to shake. Taking it graciously, Phillip nodded, returning the favour. "Pleasure." He was a little out of breath, partly due to the pace he had took off after Barnum.
Phillip faced Anne Wheeler, a very pretty girl, she wore a pink wig and purple leotard, similar to Phoebe's. Her skin was lighter than the other two, and up close Phillip could see the similarities she shared with her brother. She smiled shyly at him as a greeting.
Turning to the right, Phillip came face-to-face, again, with Phoebe Whitlock. She was even more beautiful up close, and tall too, an inch taller than him and she was barefoot. Her skin glistened as she was now soaking wet from her dance in the rain. Phillip was at a loss for words, as he found himself entranced by her once more. He felt nervous, very nervous.
"And what is your act, Mr Carlyle?" she asked him, in a velvety British accent. Squeezing her hair with a towel someone had passed her.
"I-I don't have an act," he breathed, trying to find words to string together that didn't make him appear to be completely dim-witted.
Worried that she'd find his response dull, he stood tense, waiting. Then she smiled enigmatically, and Phillip felt his heart leap up. "Everyone's got an act," she told him. She looked at the men around her, "Well if you'd excuse me gentlemen, I need to dry off." Phoebe then began walking away, but not before looking him up and down with her whiskey gaze that sent shivers down his spine.
He couldn't help himself. He watched as she walked away. It was strange, he should have felt immoral of sorts, staring at a girl dressed in nothing more than a leotard, but it wasn't like that. He wasn't thinking about that, just her.
As Phoebe walked away, she heard footsteps behind her, and her initial thought was that Mr Phillip Carlyle was following her. Biting back a grin, a witty remark ready on her tongue, she waited with baited breath for him to say something. Instead, it was Anne that spoke.
"What do you make of that Mr Carlyle?" she asked her friend, watching her reaction closely.
"I don't think anything," she replied, feeling her cheeks grow a little red. She sat in front of her vanity mirror and distracted herself by taking her damp wig off, she'd have to restyle it so it wouldn't be ruined.
Truth was, Phoebe was surprised by how much Phillip's presence affected her. He was captivating in every way possible. His eyes were the most striking shade of bright blue, when their eyes met as she swung up those eyes pierce her to her very core. No one had ever affected her like that. Though dressed richly and all covered up, Phoebe could tell he hid a chiselled physique under that fabric, a realisation that was enough to cause her mouth to dry up. He spoke like a gentleman, when he eventually found the words that is. Above all, although he wore that crisp suit, his fancy name, and eloquent vernacular, he had still took W. D.'s hand without hesitation, and hadn't appeared offended by Barnum's choice to introduce him to a group of coloured acrobats. This gladdened her immensely.
Anne loomed over her and grasped her shoulder harshly. "Phoebs, I saw how you looked at him. You've never looked at anyone that way. And your performance afterwards? You think W.D. and I didn't notice how you lost focus? You dropped 10 feet before you caught yourself! The blind performances are the most dangerous! You weren't thinking straight and could have died because of it!"
Phoebe shook her head at her closest friend. She walked behind the dressing screen. "It was nothing! I had it under control."
Anne rolled her eyes, "I saw him watching you, when you performed. It was like he ain't ever seen somebody so pretty. He couldn't take his eyes off of ya."
Phoebe was glad she was behind the screen getting changed, her face was boiling. "P.T. probably brought him in to get more money. He'll get bored by next week."
"I think he'll be sticking around longer than that," her friend muttered. Phoebe gave her a look, Anne swallowed, "Look, if he's only round this week who's telling the kind of fun he could have. He's a rich white man, you are a young black girl." Anne shrugged, not needing to continue. She sat at the vanity next and began to remove her costume. Phoebe looked down and swallowed painfully. She knew what Anne was implying.
Phoebe didn't speak to Anne or W.D. for the rest of the night.