Page 48 of Russian Roulette
“I drove my family crazy that year, making them watch me practice the tricks over and over. Believe me, there for a while, they deeply regretted telling Santa to bring me a magic kit. They wished I would’ve asked for a bicycle instead.”
“You must be a hit at family holiday get-togethers,” she says. “Do you still make them watch magic tricks on Christmas?”
For the past two years, I’ve spent Christmas driving back and forth to the prison to visit Dad for my allotted thirty-minute visit. I always pick up a cake from his favorite bakery as a special treat. Before I’m allowed to take it inside the prison, the guards chop it into a million pieces to make sure nothing is hidden inside. Dad never complains or fails to make a joke over it. He says once it hits his mouth, it’s all mush, anyway. Not once has he tried to make me feel guilty.
I still do.
It’s a gut punch to me every time I see him there, pale, thin and wearing a gray prison uniform that’s two sizes too big. Especially on Christmas Day.
I always leave the prison heartsick and discouraged. I don’t share any of this with Jade. Some things are better to keep safely tucked inside and hidden from the outside world. If I don’t speak of it, it can’t hurt me.
“My family has watched all my tricks by now,” I lie. “Even the little kids in the family have figured out how to do some of them. Kids are smart these days and fast learners. In the old days, magic tricks were carefully guarded secrets. Now there are instructional videos on the internet for the basic tricks. To be impressive, we need to keep coming up with bigger and better illusions.”
“It must be nice to have a big family,” she says wistfully.
“It’s great having a big family,” I reply, piling the lies on thick. “Especially around the holidays. We have huge family dinners. My aunts usually put me at the kid’s table where I can entertain the children and keep them out of trouble.”
The lies that normally flow smoothly from my lips are sticking in my throat. Lying to Jade feels wrong. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. She’ll be long gone as soon as she can escape from us, and my lies will be forgotten.
Just like I’ll be forgotten.
She takes another long sip of the drink. I’m finding it difficult to take my eyes off her lush, pink lips. “Here, have some more,” she says, pushing the glass closer to me. “The alcohol is already going to my head.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not really,” she replies. “It’s nice to relax for a minute.”
I scoot closer to her until our shoulders are touching. A light wind whips around us and she shivers. Without thinking, I slip my arm around her thin shoulders and pull her closer to me. I run my hand up and down her arm, trying to warm her up with my touch. Her body against mine feels familiar, as if we’ve reenacted this same scene a million times before in another life.
“Are you cold? There are goosebumps on your skin. I can grab a throw blanket from inside if you want one or we can go back in.”
“I’m only a little cold,” she replies. “It’s too nice out here to go back in. I’m fine, really.”
She doesn’t move away from me and instead leans a tad closer. The sweet smell of her shampoo hits me and I inhale deeply to flood my senses with her scent. I’m afraid to move or do anything to change the mood.
“What’s the deal with you and Leroy?” she asks. “He’s your bodyguard, right?”
I smile at her question. “I guess you could say that. Leroy is my driver, security guard, and occasional personal assistant. And my best friend.”
“The two of you appear to have a closer relationship than just employer/employee. At times, I’ve had a difficult time figuring out who works for who. He orders you around as much as you do him.”
“Yeah, I would be lost without him around to keep me sane,” I say. “He’s as close to me as any brother could be. He’s stayed with me since I first started doing street tricks on the Vegas strip.”
“You started out right here in Vegas?” she asks.
“I didn’t start out here, but I did eventually find my way to Vegas. Leroy was strolling along the strip one day to his job as a valet when he saw me working a small crowd on the sidewalk. He stopped for a minute to watch. He couldn’t figure out my tricks and he just kept laughing every time I would do the reveal. The louder he laughed and begged me to tell him how I was doing the tricks, the more people came my way. The day ended with a lot more tips than I usually made.”
She smiles at my story and nods her head. “I can picture Leroy doing that. He’s an entertaining character.”
“The next day, he left home for his job a few minutes early so he could swing by and watch me again. Leroy said he was determined to stay until he could figure out how I did my magic tricks. Once again, his enthusiasm caused more people to stop instead of walking straight on by. The tip jar filled up in half the time.”
“I hope you gave him part of the money,” she says.
“I did, and it didn’t take me long to realize Leroy might be a perfect sidekick. I offered him double the amount of money he made as a valet to come back a third day. He took me up on the offer because he wanted to learn my secrets so he could do it too.”
“Did he learn your secrets?”
I shake my head. “The following day, I used him as a plant in the tourist crowd. My tips quadrupled with Leroy as my shill. I hired him permanently on the spot. Ever since I left the street hustler life behind and hit the big stage, he’s stayed by my side almost round-the-clock. I pay him a large salary to be here. He takes care of me, and I take care of him. We’re a match made in heaven.”