Fetal Bait Apocalypse: 3 Collections in 1

He took another step. A razor sliced through his middle toe.

So close.

“William.”

Connie looked whole. Solid.

Was this the night to end thousands of such nights?

How long had it been since he’d seen her like this? So whole. So real. If only he could reach her. He’d never been able to reach her before. She always disappeared like a moth into a flame.

But tonight.

Tonight.

He prayed silently to the Ringmaster.

You can have my feet, my flesh. Just give me my family.

At last, his sons inches away, Connie a mere step away. Joy replaced the pain surging through him.

One more step.

Her touch was electric. The first time he’d felt her fingers on his face in decades.

His sons draped their arms around his shoulders and clung fast to him. He stepped into Connie’s arms.

He let the pole drop. It shattered on the ground like an icicle.

He stepped firmly onto the platform.

At last.

At last.

He closed his eyes. His family clung to him, their lips kissing him, their tears wet on his skin.

When he lost his balance, they dropped as one mass into the writhing net below.

The audience rose like a great beast and roared.

Confidence

Traffic crawled, an endless line of chrome and glass. Jill glanced in the mirror. Jesus! She slammed on the brakes. A horn sounded behind her. She examined her face. How could she have forgotten? She’d been in such a hurry to get to the interview, she neglected to put on her make-up. She grimaced at the wrinkles, the crow’s feet, the black bags beneath her eyes. No way could she go into an interview like this. Not without her Esteem.

The Esteem lady, Betty Briar, had assured her it made her look ten years younger. “Just look at you,” she beamed, holding up the mirror for Jill to admire herself.

Jill turned her head this way and that. She did look younger. The dark circles that hung around her eyes like permanently tattooed shadows were gone, or at least covered up. And her crow’s feet had disappeared, the skin at the corners of her eyes supple and fresh. The hi-lighting pen that the Esteem lady applied forced attention away from her saggy jowls and gave the impression of strong cheekbones and full lips.

Hell, she looked great! And looking great gave her that boost of confidence she needed to make it through the day. When she was laid off two weeks earlier, the loss only stung temporarily until she studied her face in the mirror. A fresh layer of Esteem, and nothing mattered any more; the mortgage, the outstanding loans, the high cost of insurance, the daycare…

She looked fantastic!

Besides, she’d been getting some great interviews — this was her fourth this week. If only she could nail this one, the pay would be even higher than her previous job, and the company was known for its great benefits. Getting laid off was the best thing that ever happened to her.

The traffic inched forward. Not far to go, but—

Damn it, how could she have forgotten her Esteem?

She looked at the dashboard clock. Did she have time to race back home and throw on a fresh application?

She’d been in such a hurry to leave. Her husband had a meeting and couldn’t take Allison to daycare, couldn’t even get her ready, and Jill forgot that four-year olds weren’t always the most compliant creatures in the world. How many times did she have to ask her to finish her Froot Loops? Then she noticed a typo on her resume, so she had to correct that and print out a couple fresh copies, and—

Dang it, Allison, finish your Froot Loops!

So it was a rush to daycare, Allison crying and needing to be held and reassured that she’d have a fun day, then rushing into busy traffic…

She hadn’t even grabbed her extra make-up bag!

Maybe she could talk Betty into making an emergency run. They were tight, weren’t they? Tight enough to do each other a favor once in a while? She really wanted this job.

She checked traffic. Barely moving, but her exit was in sight. She dialed Betty on her cell phone. No answer. She left a message. “Betty, this is Jill. Jill Carole. I need a huge favor. It’s an emergency, actually. I’m on my way to an interview — remember how I told you about losing my job? Well, everything was so hectic this morning — I left without my Esteem. I need some foundation, eyeliner, lipstick—” She glanced in the mirror. “Oh, geez. I need the whole shebang. Can you meet me in the parking lot of the Johnson Building off I-94? I’ll pay double, plus throw in a few bucks for gas. I’ve got a half hour before the interview — if there’s any way you can get here before nine — I’ll be waiting in the parking lot. Please. It’s critical.”

She hadn’t been without her Esteem since she’d met Betty three months ago at her neighborhood block party.

Traffic eased forward. By the time she arrived at the Johnson Building parking lot, it was only twenty minutes to nine. Still — even if Betty got the message and raced here, it would be cutting it close.

She turned off the engine, leaned back and closed her eyes. Come on, Betty.

There was a sharp knock on the car’s window. Jill’s eyes flew open. It was a young man, twenty-something, creamy dress shirt, smart maroon tie. Jill sat up and rolled the window down a crack.

The man looked worried. “You okay in there?”

“Yes,” Jill said. “Just gearing up for an interview.”

The man frowned. “You don’t—” He swallowed. “You don’t look so good.”

Jill instinctively reached for her face. God, she could just feel her skin loosening, creasing, the wrinkles growing…

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

The man pulled out his cell phone and shook his head. “You need a doctor.”

She knew it was bad, but the guy didn’t have to be insulting. “I’m fine.”

The man hesitantly put his phone away and backed off. Talk about a confidence buster! Jill glanced at her watch. Five minutes to nine and still no Betty.

Maybe I should reschedule the interview.

Three minutes to nine.

But for this job, rescheduling was as good as saying no thanks. Their schedule was packed — the human resources director told her on the phone she was one of twenty interviewees. And to cancel this close to the interview…

Two minutes to nine and still no Betty.

She had to get in there, had to take her shot, make-up or not.

Come on, come on…

She took a deep breath. Confidence.

Her husband had always told her that it’s what’s inside that counts. But wasn’t that just a nice way of calling her ugly?

No, come on. He’s right. Show some confidence. Talk a good game. Let your inner light shine through.

Who’d said that? Oprah? Doctor Phil? Her mother?

She stepped out of the car. Adjusted her dress. Tossed her shoulders back and held her head up high.