“It’s fine.”
“It’s too damn distracting. Remember the blue stone?”
Once I found a pretty blue stone that I put into my pocket and forgot about. Later that day, I fell off the line and got a mouthful of dirt. Ba was livid when he found the stone in my pocket: “Every detail matters when you’re up there.”
I hardly think a bad haircut will unseat me, but if it’ll upset Jamie’s concentration, it’s better to cut it. “Fine, but what does Bo have to do with my hair?”
Bo keeps his eyes tightly focused on the seabags swinging gently on their hooks.
“He’s our barber. There’s a barbershop on E-Deck near Charlotte’s room. They don’t lock the doors. The upper classes have a soirée tonight, so the halls will be empty.”
My throat goes dry, and I gulp a few times to get the juices flowing again.
Olly scratches his nose with a cracker he’s produced from somewhere. “Bo does all of us, except Fong.”
Fong tosses his greasy locks. “I can trim my own hair.”
I wonder why Bo doesn’t cut Fong’s hair. Of all the Johnnies, those two never talk or sit by each other.
“Just do not ask for a shave,” mutters Bo.
The thought of Bo touching my head makes my stomach flip, even though it’s just a silly haircut.
Jamie studies each Johnny in turn. “Men, whether we impress Mr. Stewart or not, whatever we make, we split evenly. It’s how we’ve always done things.”
The men protest. “But you’re doing all the work.”
“Keep your money for America.”
“It’s bad luck to profit off the sweat of another’s back.”
“Do I look like I need it?” says grouchy Fong, whose knee patches are nearly worn through. He needs not just new trousers but an entirely new outfit, and maybe even a new outlook, if they sell such things.
Jamie looks at me, and I nod. “Those are our terms. Take them or leave them.”
Standing, Tao presses his palms and bows toward Jamie. “There is a saying: If you always give, you will always have. Thank you, little captain.”
With that, the Flying Twins cross to the next stepping-stone. Only a few remain until we step onto the shore of a new world.
22
The men leave, each to his errands, and Jamie turns on me, his face grippy. “A rail is hard enough. But props?”
“I’ve seen Fong nicking the salt and pepper. Why waste talent?”
He gives an impatient shake of his head. “They were common thieves until Tao found enlightenment. What I mean is, why do you always make it so hard? We haven’t done a show in two years.”
“Where’s the challenge in just walking across?”
“Routine can be peaceful. Like being a fireman is peaceful.”
I snort. Still running that same racetrack. “It’ll wear you down, eventually.”
“Unless my sister wears me down first.”
“If it’s too easy, the audience knows.”
“As long as you act like it’s hard, they’ll buy it. You’re always out to prove something.” He mashes his lips together.
