Chapter Text
April 1956, New Jersey
Large cities never intrigued Thomas, at least not for long. No one place seemed to interest him, or his father before him. A life of travel was always best. Thomas never cared for what some called stability. Home wasn’t a house in a town or city, or a grassy plain or snowy mountain. It was in a large caravan with his wife and two children. Their family was rather large, with clowns, musicians, animal keepers, and more. For years, their troop traveled the lands of the United States. Thomas was proud of how it had grown. His father had started the circus in the twenties, when he was a child. Having a circus during the time of war was a struggle, yet it proved to be a wonder. In times of anguish, a little entertainment went a long way. It seemed that as the world finally came to a momentary calm and advancements were on the rise, Thomas couldn’t quite keep the success his father once had.
“Did you enjoy the show tonight?” The ring leader asked his accountant.
“I did, I did,” Gerald said, pouring two glasses of scotch. “So did Sheila and Kyle.”
“Glad to hear of it. I have to say, I forgot how much Newark enjoyed a good show. I thought all the fun happened in New York.”
“Only tourists think such a thing. Though I suppose that is your profession.”
“Having fun?”
“Being a tourist,” Gerald hummed behind his glass.
Thomas said nothing as he took a sip as well. A thick silence lay between them before Thomas spoke again. “Tell me, how are things?”
“Things?” Gerald asked with a slight coyness in his voice that agitated the ginger across from him. He knew Thomas hated to be toyed with, to be made to beg, but Gerald thought his friend could use a dose of reality. This was business, of course.
“You know what I mean, Gerald. Please.”
Gerald shifted in his seat so that he was no longer relaxed. The financial advisor exhaled as he set his cup down on his desk before opening his ledger. It was a dark brown leather-bound book, specifically for The Tucker Circus of Wonder. Thomas had seen the ledger many times since he’d hired Gerald to ensure his family’s business stayed afloat. His father had self-managed, but times had since changed. When going to Broflovski and Jackson to enlist the young lawyer’s help in managing money, Thomas became smitten with the young bank teller in the lobby. Laura would go on to be his wife, while Gerald accepted the indefinite job of managing the financial aspects of the traveling circus. Gerald was fond of the business at the time. Circuses were still quite entertaining and made a bit of money. Since televisions had grown in popularity, movies and the change of music on the radio, circuses were less of a thrill. The ledger reflected that.
“The show was good last night,” Gerald repeated as he put on his glasses, his eyes scanning the ledger.
“Gerald-”
“The ticket sales, however,” He cleared his throat. “Have been low. In recent months, the money wires have been a bit tight, never mind the fees. Between having to pay your performers, covering the cost of travel, and keeping up the animals, it’s been tight, my friend. Very, very,” he paused. “Tight.”
“How tight?” Thomas sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“You’re hardly turning a profit anymore. The past few years, you’ve barely turned a profit at all. It’s a good month if you can break even.”
“We’ve been advertising as much as we can. The tent gets close to being full again. We just-”
“I think you should sell.” Gerald took his glasses off. His dark eyes remained sharp as he met the tired eyes across the table. His suggestion was offensive. The reddening of Thomas’s face told him as much. He waited for his client to reach a decision, a response of any kind. It took a moment for Thomas to collect his thoughts.
“I can’t sell. I won’t,” He remained firm. “That circus means everything to me, to all of us. I know we can make it. We just need a change in direction. A bit more advertising. A bit more energy. The show is too amazing to end now. If we keep breaking even, why’s that so bad? As long as we’re not operating at a loss, then-”
“You can only do that for so long,” Gerald insisted. “At some point, it just simply won’t work, Thomas.”
Thomas rubbed his forehead again, this time, his large hand covering most of his face. “How long?”
“Excuse me?”
“How long until it ‘simply won’t work’? I can’t just end things tonight. I shouldn’t. But how long?”
Gerald readjusted his glasses on his face to review the ledger. His fingers flipped through a few pages, his mind mentally adding and subtracting numbers. While the lawyer-accountant worked on the imposing question, Thomas finished his remaining share of scotch. Without asking, he refreshed his glass in a snide act to distract the Jewish businessman. He considered it payback for Gerald’s earlier taunting.
“If you can boost your sales during the summer, every year, then you may have a bit of a chance to keep going. Maybe another five or so years. Every summer, you seem to have a bit of a rise. This summer, if you boost ticket sales, you can carry over better in the fall. Since you’re dormant in the winter, you need to sustain yourselves. High sales help keep you afloat in the off-season.”
“Are you suggesting a larger show?”
“I am suggesting that you need to find a way to earn more during your tour. Perhaps more dates or cities. Something, Thomas. You must do something. If you hope to survive five years, even three years, you must do something. Perhaps you should cut an act or two or raise the price of popcorn. At this point, there may be more…business-like decisions you have to consider.”
The advice was much too heavy for Thomas to hear. Quickly finishing his second round of scotch, he shook his head. “Tomorrow, we will have a day of rest. You should bring Sheila and Kyle to the grounds. I’m sure the others would love to see them again.”
Gerald exhaled through his nose, removing his glasses in tune. “I suppose after work, I’ll try.”
“Good,” Thomas stood. “It’ll be amazing to hear what everyone thinks of your ideas.”
Lips pursed, Gerald watched as the ring leader put on his top hat. He said nothing as Thomas took his customary bow. It was just the same as it was earlier in the night. “Goodnight, Ringmaster Tucker,” he hummed, pouring his second glass.
“And goodnight to you. You’ve been an amazing audience.”
There was nothing more to say as Thomas took his leave. Gerald shook his head. It was the same as it always was. He wondered when Thomas would heed his advice. Otherwise, what was he getting paid for?