---

I rubbed at my shoulder where a muscle was doing its best to knot up on me. "I think I'll leave the strong-man act to you, André. It doesn't seem to agree with me." André came closer and put one large warm hand on my shoulder, gently kneading with thumb and fingertips until the tightness went away.

"There you are," he smiled, "good as new."

I found I was looking at André in a whole different light. I'd never seen a sign before that he was like Karl and me but, if he was, then the only thing left to wonder about was how he felt about Frank. Coming right out and asking him, when I wasn't truly sure about his inclinations seemed like a bad idea. I had no desire at all to anger him, big as he was, and maybe there was a better way.

"Well, André," I said. "The real reason I came over was I wanted to invite you to go with Karl and Frank and me into town tonight." His bushy eyebrows went up and he hesitated what was maybe just a moment too long before he replied.

"Uh, I'm sorry Boss, I'd really like that, but... I can't. I... uh... have taken on an extra job... a night job, on the days the carnival isn't running." He looked at me anxiously. "I hope that's all right with you."

I nodded. "Sure Andre, you can do whatever you want on your time off, you know that. Maybe we can all get together another time?" He nodded vigorously and smiled.

"Yeah, Boss, sure."

Walking away as Andre went back to his routine I decided it was probably for the best. If he knew about my relationship with Karl, or if Frank had truly made advances to him and André was not like us, then he might be uncomfortable with the idea of being seen in our company in a social situation.

Like Frank, maybe I was letting André's outsides tell me too much about his insides and of course that is never a smart idea. I knew how some folks treated my friend Joe Neill and, in spite of his skin condition and the other differences that make him popular as the "Alligator Man", Joe is one of the smartest and nicest people you could meet. But, whether right or wrong, I just couldn't seem to picture big, muscular André, the very epitome of maleness, as a man lover. When he performed on stage he had two pretty female assistants, and part of his act was to lift them onto his shoulders, separately and both together, while they exclaimed over him and his muscles. Those girls just hung on him most of the time and I thought for sure that André always enjoyed it. Still, he wasn't married, and had no steady girlfriend that I knew of but, up till now, I hadn't thought that any of my business. I'd hoped that putting André and Frank together might shed some light on the matter, but it seemed that wasn't to work out for this evening. I supposed we'd just have to go back to Karl's plan to 'entertain' Frank.

I was on my way to find Karl when I had another thought. Hattie was the one who'd told the tale of Frank's unrequited love in the first place and I had barely listened at the time, being busy and not especially interested in her constant gossip. It just might be that she had more details of the encounter - something that would prove what she said without me having to ask either Frank or André right out. Hattie was bad to gossip, but I didn't think she was an out and out liar. Would she keep her mouth shut about my interest if I asked her to? There was only one way to find out.

Hattie was busy with laundry when I got there. A little ways from her trailer sat a metal washtub brimming with suds and soggy unidentifiable garments. Another tub of cloudy rinse water stood nearby. Hattie was hanging clean sheets on a line that sagged between two trees and didn't object to my grabbing the tail end of one sheet and clipping it over with a couple of wooden pins.

"Are you feeling alright, Boss?" She asked with a sly smile. "I've never known you to willingly do laundry - especially not for someone else."

"I just thought we could talk for a bit and I might as well help you out." I said, innocently.

"It's alright, Boss, you don't have to ask. I'll wash your clothes for you - same arrangement as last time?"

I shook my head. Hattie had done my laundry a month ago and it had cost me $2 in hard cash and the loan of a truck which she'd brought back three days later, empty of gasoline and covered in mud. I still hadn't decided if it was a good deal or not.

"I didn't come about laundry, Hattie, just to talk - honest."

She looked me over critically. "Isn't that one of Karl's shirts you're wearing?"

I sighed. She had me there. "OK, Hattie. I'd be pleased for you to wash my clothes, with the same arrangement as last time. But I do want to ask you about something else as well."

She nodded, her big white teeth grinning around the row of wooden pins in her mouth, and grabbed another sheet from the basket. I caught the end and we hung it together, moisture from the fabric cooling the air around us in the light breeze.

"Do you remember a while ago when you told me about Frank and André?" She nodded again, hanging up a pair of bright red stockings. "Well, how did you come to know what happened between them?"

Due to the efforts of the two of us, the big wicker basket was empty. Hattie moved over and sat down on a stool beside the washtub. She lit a lumpy hand-rolled cigarette that she found tucked behind her ear before sticking her reddened hands into the water and sloshing the clothes around. I sat on my heels nearby.

"I saw them talking, late one night." she said, each word accompanied by a puff of smoke, "After a while Frank put his hand on André's arm and the big man pulled away sudden like and went into his trailer." I waited while she puffed at the cigarette until it was half gone, ashes speckling her bright peasant blouse. Her eyes unfocused. "I felt sorry for little Frank, he was crying when he walked away."

I nodded. It didn't surprise me that Frank was a crier, but the tears must have meant that something had gone wrong between them. Still, they could have been talking about anything. "You didn't hear what was said?"

She bristled, "I was on my way to the creek for some water, it's not like I went out of my way to listen to private talk!"

I held up my palm. "'Course not, Hattie. I never meant to suggest you did." I knew Hattie loved gossip, but I wasn't about to accuse her of it to her face.

She frowned, looking pointedly over at the kettle steaming on the fire. I got the hint and added some hot water to the washtub, being careful not to pour it near her hands. She grabbed the washboard, ready to go back to work, spit the last of the burned out cigarette onto the ground and crushed it with a bare foot.

I stood slowly. I didn't know anything more than I had before.

It was a shame that there was nothing that could be done to help little Frank get his man.

I didn't realize I'd been talking out loud until Hattie spoke up.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. There's always things as could be done..."

I perked up. "What sort of things, Hattie?"

"Well..." She sat back from the tub, rubbing her hands dry on her long, colorful skirt, and plunged a hand down the bosom of her loose blouse to come up with a pouch of tobacco. I fidgeted a bit and looked away. It was a long way down.

"My grandmother," Hattie said, busily rolling brown shreds up in a thin paper tube, "she used to do a lot of things. Gypsy things." She said, looking up to fix me with a challenging stare. I nodded.

"She taught me some of her potions and charms - real magic, not like that hokum the Professor peddles to the marks." She licked the paper, spat out a thread of tobacco and lit the twisted end of the cigarette. I was skeptical, but nevertheless intrigued. Personal experience had taught me not to pooh pooh something, just because it was beyond common accepted belief. I had learned the hard way that there were many strange things in the world. My stage magic as "Lucas the Great" was all hokum for certain sure, but that didn't mean that real magic couldn't exist.

"Do you mean like a love potion, Hattie? Could you really make a love potion?" Such a thing would certainly solve Frank's problem - and mine too because I was sure that Frank would want to stay with the carnival if he was together with André.

Hattie pursed her lips around the cigarette, "It ain't as easy as all that, Boss. Granny said you got to be real careful of using such powerful magic."

"Hattie," I moved closer, looming over her and shifting from foot to foot, "we wouldn't be using it lightly. We'd be helping Frank, and André too - they'd both be happy!" Sounding like a humanitarian, I neglected to mention my own personal interest in the matter of Frank's love life - or the lack of it.

Hattie looked up at me, her wrinkled face more serious than I'd ever seen it. "Boss, some times the fates decree that something will be so - like you and Karl." I blushed a little, remembering her prediction. How had she known?

"But it's different when you ask for something. Your wish may be granted but, Boss, there's always a price for the favor of the spirits." She was watching me carefully but, between my embarrassment and my desire to quickly settle the matter of Frank and André to my satisfaction, I waved my hand to stop further talk.

"Hattie, you just tend to whipping up the love potion and I'll take care of whatever price is to be paid."

Her eyes narrowed. "But, Boss..."

"I said I'd be the one to pay it. It's my idea isn't it?" No doubt it was all just some of Hattie's 'gypsy' superstition, or she was planning to charge me more than another $2 for the favor, but trying such a thing, silly as it might sound, couldn't hurt.

Hattie tilted her head to one side, staring at me with hard beady eyes like some ancient bird, wisps of feathery white hair escaping her blue cotton bandana. She spoke in tones so soft I had to strain to hear her. "All right Boss, I'll make the charm for you. It will be ready by this afternoon."

"Good! Oh, and, Hattie - I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this, keep it just between us, OK?" She eyed me, lips drawn up tight.

"You don't have to worry about that, Boss - some things are better not talked about."

I reached out to pat her thin shoulder. "Thanks, Hattie. I'm glad I thought to talk to you. Who knew we had a real witch, right here with us at the carnival?"

I laughed, but Hattie didn't join in. Leaving the laundry to soak, she climbed her trailer steps and closed the door.

* * *

That evening found Karl and me in a finer state of dress than was usual. I made use of one of the less gaudy of the coats I sometimes wore on stage, while Karl donned a jacket of brown leather I'd bought him for his birthday. He looked wonderful, his bright curls combed and tamed with sweet smelling pomade. We each sported a white shirt with a collar and tie.

But little Frank, who only came up to Karl's chin, outshone us both in a navy blue suit coat and matching trousers, a starched white shirt and a pale blue silk tie with a handkerchief that matched it peeking out his breast pocket. He reminded me of a peacock, albeit a scrawny one.

The love charm had turned out to be a white flannel pouch, no bigger than my thumb, tied closed with a bit of red thread. It crackled when I touched it and had a bitter dusty smell I couldn't identify. With practiced sleight of hand, I tucked it into Frank's coat pocket as I pretended to brush away a speck of dust.

I could tell Frank was nervous as a cat about the evening. He blinked a lot and kept rubbing one bony hand over the other. Karl patted Frank's shoulder reassuringly as we climbed into the little gray Ford coupe. We hardly ever used it, relying more on heavy trucks or horseback, and the car spent most of its time under a tarp. I'd had one of the fellows wash the dust off and it looked just right for tonight. I fired it up and we were off to town.

Karl kept looking over at me with a grin, and I knew he was assuming that I'd go along with his whole plan for the evening with Frank. I smiled back, but I'd seen Frank on stage in his tight fitting costume and you could count each and every one of his ribs. I wasn't sure I was a good enough actor to pretend he made me rise up hard. 'Maybe' was as close to that idea as I got in my mind.

Now that we were away from the carnival, Karl relaxed and began to treat me almost as affectionately as he did when we were alone, smoothing my hair once and placing a hand on my thigh as I drove. In the rear-view mirror I noticed Frank's eyes on us and thought that the depth of our relationship must be sinking in for the first time. He had to have known that Karl and I shared a trailer, but maybe he hadn't considered all that might truly mean.

Traveling with Thomas Caldwell, the original owner of our carnival, who had been aged twice my 17 years when we met, had opened my eyes to a lot of things. Having spent my boyhood on a farm, I'd never have imagined that most towns of any size would have meeting places for our sort of men, if you knew where to look.

I had frequented many of those friendly social clubs after Thomas died, in an effort to maintain my equanimity. They were places you could trust and relax in, where you might meet other like minded gentlemen when the need and desire for solace became too great to bear alone.

These days, Karl and I were most often content with our own company. Still, it was good to know of a place where one might celebrate a special occasion with a tasty dinner and an illicit drink, pleasant companionship and a relaxed atmosphere. The King James Hotel was one such location.

We pulled up in front of the fine three storey brick building just after dark. A well-dressed attendant bowed us up the lamp-lit stone steps while another drove our car to a more convenient parking spot. When the door was opened before us, I felt of two minds. I looked forward to a pleasant evening, but I hadn't thought much about the expense of such doings when Thomas paid the bills. Tonight's revels would come out of my own pocket.

Frank walked ahead and I linked my arm with Karl's, gratefully conscious that in this place there was no need to hide our physical affection for one another. I watched Frank's eyes widen as he took in the richly decorated room, all the way from the cut glass chandelier hanging from the gilded ceiling to the fine Persian carpets laid over polished hardwood floors. He walked away from us to stand raptly studying a framed painting hung on one wall. I couldn't remember ever seeing Frank smile before. I nodded, pointing him out to Karl. My heart was not as hard as I pretended. Some things were worth paying for.

The three of us were soon seated at a round table near the string quartet where the slim young waiter offered us our choice of various coffee drinks, all with certain extra added flavors. You couldn't legally offer whiskey, but you could sell coffee - which was fine unless the law decided to have a cup. I understood that the owner/manager, Earl Tremblay, had made certain financial arrangements that kept such unpleasant things from happening.

I wasn't much for strong drink but, since we were treating Frank tonight and hopefully about to convince him to stay with the show, I decided the occasion called for champagne. The best of that bubbly beverage available in these times of government enforced sobriety came across the ocean from France, via the Canadian border. Our waiter brought us a cold bottle in a little bucket of chipped ice and three fine crystal flutes, each one balanced on a thin stem. Frank's was the only hand that looked right holding the delicate glass. I was no strong-man, but I was careful not to grip the thing too tightly, lest it shatter.

Karl smiled, "Lucas, don't they have any decent cups in this place?" I raised my eyebrows at him and he laughed, holding the stem of his glass between one large finger and thumb, but managing to drink from it nonetheless.

I saw several gentlemen I knew slightly, but not in the Biblical sense, and I introduced them to Karl and Frank. Frank seemed to be feeling more at ease with being here, shaking hands politely and smiling shyly.

We drank most of the good champagne while fiddling with little bits of fancy food they called appetizers. When we noticed that several couples were waltzing, Karl asked me if I wanted to try and the drink made me brave enough to dare it. Thanks to the champagne my head spun more than the dance might have explained. After a few minutes in Karl's arms I was glad to return to our table lest my enjoyment become obvious to everyone.

Across the bright room I spied Frank, deep in conversation near a framed depiction of several nude male figures engaged in various amorous activities. His companion was a well set up older man in a red velvet jacket. I remembered to wonder if Hattie's charm could be at work on this gentleman, or if she'd made it especially with only André in mind.

After a bit, Frank returned to our table with the gentleman in tow. With proper courtesy, he introduced himself as Julian Littman from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It seemed he shared Frank's interest in art, was in fact an artist himself. He seemed quite taken with Frank, rubbing his back and even briefly taking his hand. Little Frank responded to the attention with evident pleasure, fairly glowing in the candlelight.

Against my better financial judgment, I made to invite the man to dine with us. Mr. Littman surprised me by saying that if we would allow him to join our party he would gladly pay the check. I protested, of course, but ended up accepting his kind offer. Karl grinned and nudged me under the table.

The owner, Mr. Tremblay, came to the table personally for our dinner orders. I was reminded that he and I had spent some intimate time together in the past when he bent to give me a kiss on the mouth. I know I blushed at that and Karl grinned again, but Frank and Mr. Littman didn't notice, being occupied with a drawing Frank was doing on his menu with a piece of charcoal. I was grateful when Mr. Tremblay went back to being a waiter.

The coq au vin was declared the night's best choice and we all decided to try it. When the orders had been given, Mr. Tremblay returned to admire Frank's work, a very nice sketch of Mr. Littman, and to offer him some proper art materials.

Frank seemed embarrassed at the praise at first but, as the evening progressed and other men came to our table, excited over Frank's evident talents or perhaps even smitten with Frank himself, he began to relax and bloomed like a rosebud, talking animatedly about this and that artistic technique and medium and even flirting a bit, (if I am any judge) with his new entourage.

Between all the male admiration and the champagne and chardonnay wine, Frank's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were shining. It was the best I'd ever seen him look. By the time our dessert of Cherries Jubilee was served, it was difficult to decide which of them was more lit up.

For a small man, Frank ate a great deal.

The art talk was mostly over my head, but it was pleasant to see Frank enjoying himself and I had hopes that Mr. Littman might even invite Frank to stay the night at his lodgings in town. I believe I was more disappointed than either of them when Mr. Littman admitted to another obligation.

With a discreet sigh, I resigned myself to having Frank in bed with Karl and me.

Frank was even persuaded to dance with a gentleman or two and he looked good out there on the floor - happy - even though he had to crane his neck to see up farther than most of their vest buttons. I squeezed Karl's hand. His kindness and generosity were two of the reasons I loved him. Whatever happened tonight, it wasn't too much for me to help out someone Karl called friend. Not to mention that I also hadn't had to pay for dinner.

Somewhere around midnight we took our leave, pausing at the door for promises to stay in touch, hand shakes, a few warm hugs from new acquaintances, and for Julian Littman to give Frank a sincere goodbye kiss which Frank seemed to return with enthusiasm.

As we made our exit, Karl hesitated and then went back to retrieve his hat. I waited for him on the landing while Frank fairly floated down the steps. The liveried attendant had gone to fetch the car and the darkened street was almost deserted.

It was at that point that three toughs turned the far street corner and swaggered down the sidewalk. In the stillness I could hear their crude conversation all too well.

"See, I told ya this is the place where they hang out." The speaker wore dirty dungarees and a flat cloth cap. He pointed at Frank, who was waiting patiently at the curb, his back turned to the oncoming group. The man's two rough companions muttered unintelligibly, a growl of sound. They did not seem to be aware of me, standing above in the shadow of the doorway.

A second man spoke up. "Yer right, there's one of them now. Damn faggots. Who do they think they are, standing right out on the street like respectable people?" He bent to blow his nose into the street.

The first man turned to his friends. "What do you say we show him where he belongs?"

The others laughed and murmured agreement. All together, their bulk would have made ten of Frank.

Frank looked around, suddenly aware of the trio's approach. Under the streetlight his expression seemed touched with terror but still defiant. Another of the fast approaching toughs spoke up, his cracked voice full of eagerness and malice, "Yeah, let's fix that little one!"

His companions both giggled obscenely. "Yeah, I bet they'll like him even better with all his teeth knocked out!"

My fists clenched at their raucous laughter.

I started down the stairs toward Frank, determined to do whatever I could to protect him and wishing devoutly for the pistol I often carried but had left at home on this special evening. I thought Frank might try to run, but he stood his ground and I reached him just as the gang arrived, doing my best to place myself a little in front of him.

Then a huge raging bull of a man was running toward us from the alleyway at the side of the hotel. In slow motion I watched as André bore the nearest tough to the ground, pushing Frank and me out of the way in opposite directions, but not before the razor in the hoodlum's hand had scraped along my right side. A few well placed blows from André's massive fists and our attacker was laid low.

Then I was left, sprawled on the cobblestones, while André gathered up little Frank in his arms, returning to sit on the unconscious man.

Karl came running down the stairs, and within minutes the law had been summoned and André was relieved of his now wakeful and cursing, thrashing seat cushion. The man's friends, who had wisely taken to their heels upon André's arrival, were long gone and never to be located that night, even after a great deal of earnest searching.

Much fussing and bustling ensued, some of it over my person, as the local doctor arrived and Karl and Mr. Tremblay expressed a very similar outrage over the attack and my unfortunate condition. To my surprise, sharp words were exchanged between my present and former lovers and Karl, victorious, was the one to hold my head in his lap while Earl Tremblay wisely left us to go and deal with the authorities. Discovering an unforeseen streak of jealousy in my man went a good way toward distracting me from my injury.

Thus, both Karl and I were close by and privy to the exchanges between Frank and André, who were standing together in a darkened corner near the stairs. In spite of a dawning sense of pain, I was amazed to hear André's protests of love and fear for Frank and even more surprised to hear Frank masterfully shush and comfort the bigger man, promising that they would indeed be together, come what may.

"Oh, God, Frank, I was afraid they would kill you!" André exclaimed, "It's all my fault! I should have been out front, but when Earl told me you were leaving I just couldn't let you see me. So I hid 'round the side and spied on you!" the big man shuddered as Frank reached up from a tight hug to soothe the tears overflowing André's blue eyes.

Those wide eyes found mine for the first time. "Mr. Stone, I never expected to see you here!"

It had certainly been a welcome surprise to see him there. I hesitated to think how it all might have gone without André's intervention. It seemed that André had worried that I wouldn't approve of his second job or his inclinations, never suspecting how much we had in common. It seemed that Karl and I had been more discreet than I thought.

"There now, everything will be alright, dear." Frank assured him. "It was good that you were watching over us. Nothing is your fault. We will be together now and we will stay with the carnival just as you wished, with all our friends. There is no reason for me to leave, now that I understand that you and I will not be looked down upon, that we are in good company. That is, if Mr. Stone will still have me." Frank looked over at Karl and me. "I do promise to paint the portraits you requested, sir." Karl grinned and I managed a smile and a 'thumbs up' gesture. The little man nodded.

"There, you see dear," he stroked André's massive chest with a small palm, "the fates have taken a hand and things have resolved themselves equably."

Fate again. I wondered. Should fate be credited for tonight's events, or was it helped along by my meddling in affairs I knew nothing of, trying to make things suit my own selfish plans? I looked over to see Hattie's little white flannel charm, which must have fallen from Frank's pocket during the fray. One of the local policemen stepped on it in his journey from street to sidewalk and then absently kicked it into the gutter. That was all right. Its work was finished and I supposed the price for it had already been paid.

The long slit over my ribs stung like the very devil, but the doctor proclaimed it a fine clean wound that would heal with no more than a bandage. The same could not be said for my coat and shirt, which were damaged beyond redemption. My trousers suffered only a small rip from their impact with the stone cobbled street and Joe's kind wife Mavis was able to repair them to look almost as good as new.

When our attacker had been arrested and we were at last free to leave for home, André offered to carry me to the car, but I declined, my dignity having suffered enough for one evening.

* * *

So, it seemed that both Hattie and I had misunderstood the situation a bit, due to a mistaken judgment that André as the bigger and stronger of the two would of course be the dominant partner in any prospective liaison with Frank. Still, I don't suppose I would have behaved much differently if I had known that André was pursuing and being refused by Frank and not the other way round - except perhaps to enjoy André's weight lifting lesson a little bit more.

Frank, through his new contacts, quickly sold a few of his stock of paintings and he and André bought a large and luxurious trailer into which they ostentatiously moved all of their belongings. Since they were so openly rejoicing, the rest of our carnival company was moved to throw them a party one fine afternoon. The women worked to make it as much like a wedding reception as possible, seating the rapturous André and the modestly beaming Frank under a tent canopy decorated with flowers. Hattie personally baked the happy couple what she said was a gypsy cake, dark and delicious with raisins and spices.

For Frank and André she had smiles that day and even a few tears of joy but, whenever Hattie caught my eye she frowned and turned away. She felt I had not taken her magic as seriously as I ought, and it was a long while before she would forgive me, in spite of my many apologies. The poultices and teas she made to hasten my recovery were never brought in personally, but left outside the trailer, announced only by an abrupt knock. She did, however, take and wash my dirty clothes - though she collected them and the $2 payment from Karl.

In only a few months, Frank's paintings added their glamour to the big tent and, as I had predicted, attendance and revenues went up. Frank even received some commissions from the marks, impressed by his artistry, as well as through the contacts he had made and continued to make as we traveled, in the outside world. Frank still appeared on stage as the "World's Thinnest Man", but we found another fellow to act as "Gerry the Geek." Frank's talents were better put to use with paint and canvas and he claimed that eating chicken eggs, shell and all, had always given him indigestion.

Frank was a frequent visitor during my brief recovery and those visits continued even after I was back to normal. He opened up and let me see the fine intelligent man that dwelled inside his slight body. Frank quit referring to me as Mr. Stone, but he never has called me 'boss', preferring to use my Christian name, Lucas. I don't mind. We have had many a pleasant discussion on art, books and music and I am now proud to call him my friend.

One day, Frank surprised Karl and me with a large nude portrait of the two of us together. Due to the fact that we never did take Frank to bed, and judging from the painting's meticulous detail, Frank must have either second sight, a good imagination, or an informant in Karl. We hung the gift proudly on the wall of our trailer. Every time I see it I am freshly reminded of the important lesson to keep my mind open and not to judge others by my own narrow, preconceived notions.

Still, I have to smile when I see the two men strolling happily round the camp, arm in arm - so different - André an imposing tower of muscle and Frank a slender flower of a man, they are nonetheless the perfect couple.

Just like Karl and me.