Description: It's carnival time! Let the games begin.
See Chapter 1 for story headers.
CHAPTER THREE
Dexter had been to many a carnival in his life—it had been a favorite pastime of his foster mom, Doris, before she had died.
But, there were other reasons why too.
"I don't know what to do first," Deb exclaimed excitedly as she entered the park, arm in arm with Reggie. "Gorge myself on cotton candy or risk my life on rickety, death-defying rides."
She and Reggie looked at each other. "Death-defying rides," they said in unison. Deb looked at Dexter then Dexter looked at Rita.
"What do you wanna do?" he asked her.
"Umm," she looked around aimlessly. "I dunno. I used to love those rides when I was younger, but now, I just wanna…I dunno walk around, play some games, maybe take a ride on the carousel and just relax," she said. All six eyes were fixed on her. "Does that make me sound old?"
"Kinda," Reggie said. Deb smacked his arm.
"Of course it doesn't,' Dexter said. "How about this? You," looking at Deb, "and Reggie go and take the coasters and me and Rita will just stroll around some." The sentence was barely out of his mouth before the other couple, the couple that was actually dating, ran off.
Rita laughed a little. "How long have they been going out?" she asked.
"Since Monday," Dex answered.
"Wow. They seem really joined at the hip."
"What can I say? My sister is lover."
The two walked around leisurely, stopping occasionally to make fun of some of the cheap toys and tacky crafts being sold at various booths, until they got to a booth called "Wacky T-shirts".
Rita held up one: "I took an IQ test and the results were negative." They both laughed.
"How about this one," Dex said, before holding up a shirt that read: "Out of my mind. Back in five minutes."
Rita snickered. "That's how I feel after a day with my kids sometimes."
They kept browsing and their eyes both settled on this one: "Well it isn't going to lick itself." They looked up in mutual horror and kept walking. Dexter rifled through several others, quickly getting bored until he heard Rita laughing.
"What does it say?" he said.
"Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them." She laughed even harder. "Isn't that so true?"
You have no idea, he thought to himself. "Thank God that's just a shirt," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Right?"
"I don't know…I'd like one shot at a couple of the guests at our hotel—" she stopped herself. "I'm just kidding Dexter. I don't want you to think I'm some nut job."
"Never that," he said. He placed his hand on her back, giving her a little push. "Let's see what else they have around here."
Then they came to a kiosk selling wooden trinkets and jewelry of various sizes, some of which was quite beautiful. One piece caught Rita's eye.
"Look at this," she said. She was holding an ornate necklace made of woods of different shades. "Just stunning," she said. "The pattern in so intricate but the face of the wood is so smooth. It reminds me of something I had when I was little and my dad was still alive. He bought me a necklace something like this, probably a lot cheaper, but I still loved it. I would wear it everyday. I have no idea where that thing is. I must have lost it a long time ago." She ran her hand along the medallion.
"Do you…want it?" Dexter asked.
Rita looked up, shaking her head. "No." She grinned brightly, and laughed a little.
"What's funny?" Dexter asked.
"Just you, Dexter. You're so sweet and…kind of childlike, in a good way. It's sort of refreshing to be around."
Dexter didn't know what to say. "Thanks," he shrugged. "Refreshing" sounded a whole lot better than murderous, psychotic and bloodthirsty.
"Ooh," Rita intoned, pointing straight ahead. It was the carousel.
The two walked over and Dexter handed the man their fare. They got on, with Rita choosing a pink pony with golden trim, while Dexter sat on the auburn stallion next to it. The ride took off and Rita swayed with her eyes closed as the horses bobbed up and down beside each other playing a polka version of "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean". After a couple bars, Rita started singing, and Dexter joined in. He heartily murdered the words and Rita laughed so hard, he thought she might fall off her horse. When the ride stopped, he hurriedly jumped off before extending her his hand.
"Please alight, milady," he said, in some accent that was a disservice to anything British. Rita didn't seem to care.
"That was fun," she said.
"I thought so," Dexter replied. Then, to his surprise, she looped her hand under his arm.
"Where are Deb and...um…"
"Reggie? Probably somewhere puking."
They walked around and heard screaming. Dexter quickly recognized the voice as Deb's.
"Where do you get off unbuckling my seatbelt in the middle of a ride?" she hollered. "You sonuva…tit…lick…"
"Calm down, sweetie," Reggie pleaded. "You aren't thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking plenty clearly, you dickhead. A lot more clearly than if you had let my guts splatter on the concrete."
"Whoa, whoa," Dexter said running up to the pair. "What's going on here?"
"This cocksucker tried to take my seatbelt off in the middle of the ride so he could—quote unquote—scare the crap out of me."
"I did not take her seatbelt off," Reggie said in his own feeble defense.
"Then what did you do?" Dexter asked.
"Got punched in the face, that's what," Deb yelled.
"Look, baby, baby, baby," Reggie cooed as he approached her. He placed a hand on both her shoulders. "Look at me," he pleaded. She turned her head, avoiding his stare, but he followed her eyes. She eventually relented and they were face to face. "Love muffin, I would never, ever do anything to endanger you, OK? I was playing. It was a lame attempt to be funny, and I apologize. But I wasn't actually going to take your belt off, OK?"
Deb glared at him for a long minute, the fury visibly draining from her face. "You suck, you know that?" she said after a while.
"I totally agree," he said. "Now tell me you believe me when I say I would never hurt you."
Deb rolled her eyes and sighed hard. "I believe you," she mumbled.
"Alright now give me a hug," The two embraced for what seemed like forever, oblivious to the goose-necking audience they had attracted by this time.
"Did she call her own boyfriend a cocksucker?" Rita whispered to Dex.
He leaned over. "She has a…colorful mouth. It becomes endearing after a while."
Rita nodded.
After the show had ended, Dex suggested that they go and grab some snacks.
Reggie stepped up first to the window.
"Welcome to Krazy Kandy's. Can I take your order?" the barely-alive teenager intoned.
"I'll have a—" he paused suddenly, pawing at his pockets.
"Don't say it," Debra sighed.
"Babe, I got you next time, I promise."
Dex popped up with a credit card. "I got it," he said.
"No, Dex, I can't let y—," Deb said.
"No, I don't mind," he handed the card to the cashier. "It's all on me." He turned to Rita. "What did you want again?" he asked.
"See how that works," Deb said to Reggie. "Ladies first." He leaned over and whispered something in her ear, before she shrieked and punched him in the arm, laughing.
Dexter made a mental note to never do this again.
Rita spoke up. "Just let me get a small, plain popcorn and a Diet Coke," she said.
"Make it a large popcorn," Dexter added. "We can share."
Deb was next. "I want a candy apple and a Fuji water."
All eyes floated to Reggie. He was staring long and hard at the menu of all of six items, apparently coming up with nothing. "What's the name of that huge, monstrous, gooey, funnel cakey thing y'all have?"
"The Funnelcakenator?"
"That's it. I want that."
The cashier seemed to take pity on him. "That's made for four people and costs $12."
"Gosh, Reg, Dex is treating. Get something else."
"No, I'll pay him back," he said laughing heartily. "You all are about to see the most amazing display of the human capacity for sugary confection. It's going to be great."
"OK," the cashier said. "Is that all?"
"Can I get a Red Stripe?" Dex asked.
"Make that two Red Stripes," Reggie said, and slapped Dex on the back. "Nice call."
Deb made a gun motion to her head and pulled the trigger.
After they got their treats, they found a clearing of benches nearby, and sat down. In short order they were…well, 'treated to a display of the human capacity for sugary confection'—though it wasn't that amazing or great. It really got grisly when Reggie made them chant "go, go, go" as he crammed large bits of caramel and M&M covered masses of fried dough into his mouth. Even more shockingly, Deb seemed to…like it?
After the worse was over, Rita—mercifully—ponied up with a change of conversation.
"So Dexter, what made you become a blood splatter analyst?"
"Well," Dexter began, "Me and Deb's dad was a cop. He and his buddies were always around the house telling cop stories. Sometimes Dad would hand us a true crime novel to read…In Cold Blood—"
"Doc Holliday," Deb added.
"Remember Murder in Coweta County?" Dexter asked. Deb shuddered. "So it was kind of natural for us to go into law enforcement. But I wasn't really cop material, so my dad recommended I go into forensics." To make me a better killer, he thought to himself. "I went to Florida State for Forensic Science—"
"Go Seminoles!" he and Deb yelled at the same time.
"And then I got a job straight out of college right here in Miami, at the station over on Flagler Street, as a Forensics Pathologist. But after a couple years, I realized that, even though I dabbled in everything, my real... passion was for blood. The blood," he paused, almost reverentially, "it tells so much, you know? The life is the blood. So I got my certification to be a Bloodstain Pattern Examiner. I've been doing it ever since."
"Really?" Rita said a little amazed. "You don't ever get… depressed?"
"Um, it's no fun seeing murdered children, or people grief stricken. But sometimes, the expert testimony I give is the evidence that can make or break an entire case."
"Oh whatever," Deb teased. "Brag, brag, brag, kiss, my, ass. The forensics guys think they are the whole Police Department by themselves. Ask Dexter if he can fire a gun."
Dex laughed. "She's kind of right. If I run into any real baddies, I need my little sister to protect me," he said.
"Damn straight," Deb laughed and punched him in the shoulder.
"Damn straight!" Reggie blurted, apparently sufficiently recovered from his sugar coma to rejoin the conversation. "The lab geeks are always running around saying stuff like, 'O negative trajectory'. I mean, what does that crap even mean?"
"We don't…say that," Dex deadpanned.
"You know what we called the blood analysts back in Albuquerque? VAMPIRES!" he said, and collapsed into guffaws. He swatted Deb's shoulder. "Get it? Vampires?"
"Don't touch me," she said.
Suddenly a mime appeared at the table. He motioned for Deb to pick a card and show it to the group while he made a show of covering his eyes. She did so. After a goofy dance, some spinning, falling and comical shuffling of the deck, he produced the card. They all applauded.
"I love tricks," Rita whispered to Dex. He just nodded.
The mime had one more trick. He enthusiastically motioned for them all to move further down the bench, which they all did. He pulled up one sleeve, and then the other, apparently indicating that he was hiding nothing. Then he then pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled it well, several times. He spread the cards, face down, across the table and selected five cards, slowly showing his rapt audience each card—they were all spades. He returned them, face down, among the cards, before collecting them all and shuffling them again, still face down. He clapped his hands, cut the deck mid-air and tossed two cards in the air; they were the first two of the spades. He repeated the shuffling, cutting and clapping, each and every time, and seemingly at random, pulling another one of the spades from the deck. Not content to stop there, he eventually pulled each and every spade from the deck.
Dexter glanced at Rita who was completely mesmerized. To be honest, Dexter was pretty taken aback too—he certainly had appreciation for the art of illusion, and this was…impressive.
In one last dazzling display, the mime shuffled all the cards and, finally turning them face up, spread them across the table. All the remaining clubs, hearts and diamonds were in numerical order.
With that he bowed. His audience of four applauded with gusto.
"Holy mother of God," Deb exclaimed. "How'd you do that?"
He shrugged his shoulders coyly, then rolled his hat down his arm and held it out for tips.
The group collectively panicked: Rita only had change, Deb 'never carries cash,' and Reggie…had forgotten his wallet. Dexter reached for his; all he had were twenties.
"It's your lucky night," he said as he dropped one in the hat. The mime smiled in a way that said "Sucker," and went on to dazzle the next group of innocents.
"Oh gosh—that was great," Rita beamed. "I wish the kids could have seen it."
"Yeah, that was…pretty amazing," Dexter conceded.
"Ehh, it was alright," Reggie said. "But I bet if you got that guy anywhere near one of the planes I used to jump out of when I was in a skydiving club back in Albuquerque, he'd probably wet his pants." He busted out laughing. "Up here," he motioned to Deb, who gave him a weak high five.
"I dunno," Rita countered. "That tattoo he had seemed pretty hardcore."
"What tattoo?" Dex said. He hadn't seen any tattoo.
"When he lifted his sleeves, he had a tattoo that said "'Chatterbox,' and it had a mouth in a box above it. It was pretty intricate."
"Chatterbox tattoo on a mime," Reggie said sarcastically. "Hilarious."
"Chatterbox," Dexter whispered to himself. He turned to Deb. "Where are the johns out here?"
"Somewhere out back," she said. "They're pretty gruesome. We can just leave now and take you to a gas station."
"I can't wait," Dexter said and took off running.
He had to find that mime. That mime was Gary Phillips.
He raced around the park. He only had a small window of opportunity before he would be missed by Deb and Rita. And Phillips could be…anywhere.
"Seen a mime?" he asked random passersby. He got one no after another (and an occasional glare) until someone said he was by the dunking booth. When Dexter got there, it was…the wrong mime.
"Where's the other mime?" he asked. Predictably he didn't answer. Dexter stood next to him very closely (too closely) and leaned towards his ear. "Answer me or I'll shove that deck of cards down your throat," he growled.
"He's on break behind the big tent," the mime croaked. Dexter saluted in thanks and ran off.
Dexter spotted Phillips smoking something that didn't look like a cigarette. And, thankfully, he was by himself. Dexter gained his composure and approached him.
"Hey," he said in greeting. "You're that amazing mime. Phillips quickly composed himself and tossed the joint. But, he didn't answer. He pointed to a sign; it read "Employees Only."
"Aww, I won't be long," Dexter replied. "I just wanted to know if you do private shows, like for a retirement party." The mime shook his head no. "Aw, c'mon, it's for my dad. Great man. He's an exec at Universal Studios, 30 years corporate in the entertainment industry, but at the end of the day, he's always been a kid at heart. I don't want anything but the best for him when he says goodbye to the daily grind." Phillips, still in character shrugged his shoulders and gave Dex and exaggerated sad face. "I'm not going to take no for an answer." He drew closer. "Money is no object… state your price." The words seem to hit a nerve, and Phillips bit the inside of his mouth as the wheels turned in his head.
"Look," he finally said. He looked over his shoulder. "I'm in a...transitional period right now. I'm only going to be here until Sunday, then I'm heading out with the carnival. But if you want my services, call me at this number." He pulled out a flyer for the carnival, scratched out the number and wrote a new one on the back. "Here. If you're wiling to fly me out, I'd be honored to perform for your father."
Dexter feigned excitement. "Thank you so much!" He grabbed both of Phillips' hands, shaking them vigorously. "I can't thank you enough. You will be hearing from me."
Back silent, Phillips motioned a double thumbs-up, and left. Dexter watched him as he walked away.
"A lot sooner than you think," he added. He glanced down at his watch. He had been gone a half hour—too long to justify a potty break. He'd have to come up with an excuse.
Emerging from behind the tent, he spotted a teenage girl with a huge teddy bear.
"How much for the bear?" he asked. The girl and her boyfriend stopped. "I'll give you ten bucks."
"Get lost," her boyfriend yelled.
"Twenty," Dex offered, remembering that all he had were twenties anyway. The couple seemed to perk up. The girl whispered something in her boyfriend's ear.
"Fifty," he countered.
"Forty's my final offer, Dexter said. "This place is crawling with those bears. If you don't take the money somebody else will."
"Fine," the boy said. The girl handed over the bear as Dexter handed them two bills, and he was off.
By the time he got back, the trio he left behind looked like the picture of death by carnival, and he was pretty sure that the lovebirds were still bickering. Deb spotted him first.
"Whoa," she said. "That's some bear you got there. Is it even going to fit in the car?"
Rita turned around. "Wow! Who is that for?"
"For you," Dexter said. "I was walking back from the port-o-potties and some jackass at the dunking booth started up." He set the bear on the table. "Guess my right arm's better than I thought."
Rita smiled. "Thank you. It matches Astor's room perfectly."
"Sure," Dexter said. He wasn't sure if that was a statement of fact, or a deflection.
"I'm sleepy," Rita moaned. She laid her head against the bear.
"Let's get you home," Dexter said.
Dexter and Rita had a great ride back to her place. They soon discovered their mutual love for Eighties synth pop (although Dexter's was not so much love as an effort to "blend in"—one of the main tenants of The Code) and so they sang loudly to Rita's mixed CD of the greatest hits from Alphaville, Soft Cell, and Depeche Mode all the way home. When they arrived, Dex walked Rita to the door, huge bear in hand.
"I had a great time tonight, Dexter," she said. "I hadn't realized how much my life had become a never-ending cycle of work, kids, and housework." She bit her bottom lip, smiling, and rubbed her finger up and down his arm. "I really needed this."
As far as Project Get a Girlfriend was going, this looked good. Dexter decided to turn up the heat.
"Rita," he sighed. "You look…beautiful. Right now." She swatted at her hair, no doubt feeling the very opposite.
"I dunno," she said.
"No, I'm serious. I don't know if it's the moonlight, or just the fact that you look so… weightless and free. And relaxed."
She smiled. "I feel weightless and free and relaxed."
"I'm glad." He took her hand. "I'm running out of things to fix, but I don't want this to be the last I see of you."
"I don—," she started to speak, but instead just looked up into his eyes with longing. He dropped the bear, and, cradling her chin in his hand, he bent down, stopping a hair's breadth away from her lips. Then he closed the gap, gently at first, before gaining momentum. Dexter moved his hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer when all of a sudden…
"I can't," she said, shaking her head.
"Wha—, what happened?" Dex asked.
"I just can't," she said breathless. She fumbled with her keys and opened the door.
Dexter picked up the bear. "Let me help you inside, at least."
"No," she said. She snatched the bear and rushed inside, only leaving the door cracked.
"Goodnight?" Dexter said to her nose.
"Goodnight, Dexter," she said, and slammed the door.
Dexter stumbled back to the car, confused. What just happened?, he thought to himself.
He might have had more time to replay the events in his head and figure out what went wrong, but he had more…pressing matters to attend to.
A/N:
Gimme an F (F!). Gimme an E (E!). Gimme an E (E!), Gimme a...Screw it. Gimme feedback. Thanks. Also, after reading this story, you might want to search for the YouTube video called "Ricky Jay - Amazing Card Trick/Manipulation." It's neat.