Chance

         “Heads, we get married; tails, we break up.” Lenny twirled the dime on its edge.

         “C’mon, Lenny,” Keisha said. “What kind of a way is that to make such an important decision?”

         “Chance, my lady, makes all of our decisions. How did you end up working for this outfit?”  Lenny squinted, his pale eyes recessed into his wizened face, wrinkled by too much sun and smoke. He shook the crushed pack of filter less cigarettes from his rolled up sleeve and lit one. Then he went back to fumbling with the dime.

         Keisha looked back at the crowd of kids clamoring at the gate and blotted the eye shadow creasing in her eyelids with a tattered tissue. “C’mon, Lenny,” she said once more. “It’s almost time to start, and I want to know if you’ll buy me that little bit of,” she looked around and lowered her voice, “you know, again tonight. I don’t mind being your bunkmate, even with that creep who shares your trailer around. But marriage?”

         “Sure,” Lenny said. “Why not? We’ve been together on this circuit for almost four months. Same kiddies’ rides, different cities. Now we’re more than friends.”

         “What’s in it for me?” Keisha asked.

         Lenny winced. “You’d be my one and only.  Besides, if we get married we can get our own trailer. ”

         “How will that change anything?” She flipped her dread-locked hair and twisted the bangles on her wrists.      

         “You told me you loved me,” Lenny said. He stomped out the butt of his cigarette with a scuffed cowboy boot, matching the worn, tanned color of his face.

         “Sure, honey,” Keisha cupped her ample breasts barely covered by her red

sports bra. “You make me happy.” She brushed her hand along his childlike hips just below his 28” waist. “You know who to see when we shut down tonight.”

         “Okay, we can talk about marriage then.” He put the dime in his jean’s pocket, and put

on his faded ball cap with the Diamond Dream Entertainment logo. The ancient but well-oiled

gears of the kiddies’ Ferris wheel he operated shuddered to work.

         Keisha snatched tickets from the hands of eager children; her eyes busy

upon the throng at the gate to make sure no one slipped by without a ticket. Lenny took a moment to admire her flash and glitter—the tight sequined Capri’s over the rhinestone flip-flops adorning feet with red nail polish, designs of shooting stars painted on each big toe. She gave Lenny a wink followed by a look that said, “Ready?” 

         He nodded and operated the levers of the machinery with a bored competence. Every fresh-faced rider let him feel he had made someone happy, at least for awhile, and he almost forgot no one wanted him or had ever wanted him.

         Except for Keisha. Maybe chance would be on his side later. Maybe in the stoned darkness the dime would land on heads. Maybe.

***