Acts of Violence
Every tragedy needs an audience.
Across circuses and cabarets, jousting lists and revival tents, ballet companies and touring bands, the traveling entertainment world runs on the same old bargain: give the crowd what they came for, and don't let them see what it costs you.
Because underneath every spotlight is the same question: what do we owe the people who watch us, and what do we owe ourselves — and how much is either side willing to bleed to find out.
Some people only ever learn the price of their entertainment the hard way.
The show, as they say, must go on.
Thatcher Callahan plays a mean guitar and keeps even meaner time. Six nights a week he's on stage backing the woman he loves. The seventh, he's usually burying someone who touched her without asking.
Magdalena Serranos sings like she was born under a spotlight — sweet-voiced, showstopping, and completely unbothered by the bodies her boyfriend leaves behind. In fact, she's started helping.
They've done this a dozen times without a hitch. Find the mark, teach the lesson, disappear before sunrise. But Beauford Sutton wasn't just an obnoxious drunk with too many hands — he was the youngest son of a Dixie Mafia boss, and somebody loyal to him wants answers.
As Thatcher and Lena wind their way home through the South, a rogue crew is closing in, hell-bent on revenge sanctioned by no one but themselves. Thatcher's ready to do whatever it takes to keep Lena safe. What he's not ready for is how far she's willing to go to keep both of them free — and just how much of herself she's kept hidden, even from him.
The show must go on. The body count just might too.