Ten Days in August Read Online Free PDF Page B

ruggedness about him Nicky found appealing. He could practically hear Julie or Charlie joking about his fondness for rough trade, but there was more than that to Brandt, something real.
    Not that it mattered. Nicky intended never to see him again. It wouldn’t be much of a challenge, give that it seemed likely the police wouldn’t bother to try to solve the mystery of poor Edward’s death.
    By some miracle, Julie had acquired enough ice to put in front of fans so cool air blew around the ballroom, but back here in the dressing rooms, the performers’ makeup dripped off as soon as they applied it. Nicky stared at his assembled melted cosmetics, feeling frustrated; singing and dancing were about the last things he wanted to do tonight. Edward was dead, the heat was oppressive, and any joy Nicky had for performing tonight was only for his paycheck.
    Charlie knocked on the open dressing room door, so Nicky motioned him in. Charlie closed the door behind him. “I heard about Edward.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs it true you saw him?”
    The mental image of Edward lying on the floor, covered in grime, mouth agape, blood pooling at his head, hit Nicky in the face. He wished he could push it aside, but he imagined it would be quite a while before he managed that feat. “I did.”
    Charlie seemed to cotton on to the fact Nicky didn’t want to talk about it; he nodded and sat at the table beside Nicky. He reached for the makeup and leaned toward the mirror to apply it. Charlie was about ten years too old to really be called a “boy,” so he painted his face to look younger. Nicky wasn’t sure he was very convincing.
    â€œAre you worried?” Charlie asked, his tone light, as if Edward’s death were an idle concern.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Charlie wiped his hands on a rag. “Do you know anything about what happened?”
    â€œAre you the police?” Nicky snapped.
    Charlie held up his hands. “No. I don’t mean to be nosy. But how am I to know if... how am I to know if the man I sit with tonight wants me to end up like Edward?”
    It was like Charlie had reached into Nicky’s chest and squeezed his heart. “I do not know. You can’t. But this profession was always a risk.”
    â€œWhich is why you dance now.”
    Nicky reached up and finished pinning his wig in place. He said nothing.
    Charlie examined himself in the mirror and stood back up. “I need to pay my rent. No one wants an aging working boy, but Julie still lets me work here, and sometimes I do find a man just desperate enough to overlook my advanced years.”
    â€œYou’re not old,” said Nicky, although that wasn’t quite accurate, at least not in the circles they moved.
    â€œIt’s all the same in the dark, I suppose.” Charlie took a deep breath and put his hand on the door frame. “If I don’t see you tomorrow—”
    â€œYou will.”
    â€œGood luck tonight, Nicky.” Then he was gone.

Day 2
    Thursday, August 6
Temperature: 91 °F

Chapter 3
    N icky’s sister Brigid lived on Hester Street not far enough from where they’d grown up in a crowded tenement building with barely enough room for each person to move his elbows.
    The rest of the Sharp children had gotten out of the tenth ward. Brigid had chosen to marry an Italian man who owned a little shop on Orchard Street, and so she’d stayed. Thus it had fallen upon her to take care of not only her five children but also the Sharp patriarch, who had fallen into a bottle upon the death of their mother.
    The heat worried Nicky. As he walked through the clamor of pushcarts and other street vendors to get to Brigid’s building, he could not help but notice how wretched it all felt, how hot and hopeless. The air smelled of fish slowly spoiling where they lay on display, of rotting fruit and rancid meat, of sweat and urine and decay. Nicky did not want to be