9
Help Wanted
Mr. Horum thought he recognized the man when he walked in the shop, but he couldn’t quite place him. He recognized the man’s features, but he couldn’t come up with a name. Regardless, he greeted him like they were old friends.
“It’s you,” he said, gripping the man in a bear hug. “How good to see you after so much time has passed.”
Osbert broke free from the hug, squinting at his perceived attacker. “Sir, don’t know what you think you’re— Oh, aren’t you that juggler from Dixon Park? But I saw you perform only a few weeks erstwhile. It hasn’t been long at all.”
“Ah, the nice man. I know you now. What a time to meet, eh? We lucky we not meet again in hospital.”
“Fortunately, I exited the park unharmed,” Osbert said. “Now, as the proprietor—”
“You do good to get away,” Mr. Horum said. He arched his eyebrows and bared his teeth. “They real scum of dirt, you know? Those thieves? Hurt people all the time. They no can hurt the dog kid though.”
Osbert bristled, prepared to launch into a speech about society’s inequalities and their relation to the Guild’s mission. He thought better of it and extended his hand. “Enough about that unsavory event. I’m here to talk business. My name is Osbert Collingwood. I represent Mr. Zeph Curley and his amusement park Curleyworld.”
“Predsha Horum. I represent Predsha Horum,” Mr. Horum said as he shook Osbert’s hand.
“Predsha, we’ve been looking for new acts and general amusements to add to our offerings for the grand opening. When we drove past your shop, I thought this would be the place to ask.”
“You want tricks? We got tricks. So many tricks it trick itself,” Mr. Horum said, pulling a half dozen items off the shelf he thought might work. “What sort of stuff you needing? You got clowns in your park? We got plenty of clown stuff.”
Osbert noticed a display case on the back wall with four ventriloquist dummies mounted behind the glass. A mean hobo clown, a happy circus clown, a feisty man in a pink sweater and bow tie, and another in a three-piece suit. Their painted-on eyes followed him as he moved.
“How… uniquely terrifying,” Osbert said. “Sadly, as vast and valued as your inventory would be for the right customer I’m afraid I am not he. I’m far more interested in somebody to use these props in a performance setting. You wouldn’t know any local performers would you?”
“I get you name of guy,” Mr. Horum said. “Big agent in Colta City. He set you up good you betcha.” He looked back towards the closed office door and called for Bronson.
No answer.
“Bronson? We got big important customer here,” he called again.
Silence.
“Forgive us. Boy usually super quick. I go fetch book.” Mr. Horum took a step, but Osbert reached out and grabbed his arm.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “As I remember, your juggling was top notch. Why not let this boy of yours watch the shop for awhile? You’d fit in great with our little troupe.”
Mr. Horum blushed, pulling the turban from his head then holding it over his heart. “You very kind, Mr. Osbort. But I no perform. Not in many years. Juggling act what you call it? Accepting? Accenting?”
“Exception?” Osbert offered.
“Yes. Big one-time exception. I did shows as magician, but I not young man no more. Performer’s life is…” Mr. Horum flapped his hands together like a dove flying through the air. He wiggled his fingers then lowered his hands as he made a crisp “pshhhh” sound through his teeth.
“How disappointing. Sorry I wasted your time, Predsha. Unfortunately, I do have people waiting for me outside. If you change your mind, give me a call.” He took a white business card from his pocket then handed it to Mr. Horum. It read OSBERT COLLINGWOOD — ENTERTAINMENT MANAGER, CURLEYWORLD AMUSEMENTS.
Mr. Horum shoved the card in his hat then returned the hat back to his head. “Stay still,” he said. “I get you agent’s stuff.”
“Never mind that. I have a feeling I’ll be hearing back from somebody soon,” Osbert said, tapping the side of his nose as he winked.
He exited the shop, leaving Mr. Horum to investigate the office. It remained as he’d left it, except for the draft from the open window and the three gaff decks on the desk.
As he shut the window the bell in the shop jingled. Excited by the prospect of another customer, he rushed out to greet them.
A young boy stood by the door with a broom in one hand and a trash can lid in the other. He’d pulled his t-shirt up over his head; his eyes looked out through the collar.
“Come out, Osbert,” the boy said. “Believe it or not… I’m Dogboy, and I’m not going to let you hurt this guy.”
“Bronson?” Mr. Horum said. “Why you run around shop with no shirt? What if customer come in?”
“Jeez, Mr. Horum, way to blow my secret identity,” Bronson said. He stalked through the shop, seeking his prey amongst the shelves. “Where’s that sniveling creep hiding?” he asked.
“Short man? Glasses? He leave only one minute ago. He booking magician for show. Maybe you try out? I teach you good, hmmb?”
“He’s not who you think he is,” Bronson said. “He’s a real bad guy. One of the worst guys I knew in the Guild actually.”
“Thief?” Mr. Horum said. “Thief in Horum’s shop? No, this no good.”
“Not just any thief. He was basically second-in-command. I’m pretty sure he had something to do with Uncle Randolph getting my powers too.”
“I no want you messing with thief stuff no more. You kid. Kids do schoolwork. Have friends. Here, he give me his card. We take this to police and—”
“No way. They’re already out there looking for me,” Bronson said, pulling the t-shirt back down over his torso. “Don’t worry about me, sir. I can handle it. Show me his card.”
“He say he want me to perform show for big grand opening,” Mr. Horum handed Bronson the business card.
“Curleyworld Amusements,” Bronson said. “What’s that? Sounds fake, doesn’t it?”
“Curleyworld. Is big park with many rides. Rolling coasters and stuff like that. It close years ago. Before you even here.”
“Hmm,” Bronson said, pondering his options. “If Osbert’s out there in this old amusement park, odds are the rest of the Guild is with him.” An idea sparked in his eyes, and he sauntered over to the old shopkeep.
“My friend,” Bronson said, putting an arm around Mr. Horum’s shoulder, “you said he offered you a job?”
“It more like audition. He want to see me do tricks. Probably for some sneaky thief reason.”
“I want you to call him and tell him you accept,” Bronson said. He smiled at handed the card back. “You can be my lookout… Let me know what I’m up against.”
“It keep thieves away from shop?” Mr. Horum asked.
“Eventually, yeah,” Bronson replied.
“I do it. I do it. Horum always happy to cover good friend, hmmb?”
“Watch out, you filthy crooks,” Bronson said, laying down his broom and lid. “Mr. Horum: Super Spy is on the case.”
“How much that pay?” Mr. Horum asked then winked at Bronson as he picked up the phone to leave a message for Osbert.
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