Page 34

Briar

It’s been a few weeks since our big cookout, and life is finally settling into the kind of steady rhythm I’ve always craved. I’m up before dawn most mornings, greeting the birds at the zoo and going over show scripts with the newly expanded avian team— my team, now that Marcie promoted me to bird trainer. The title still feels surreal on my tongue: Bird Trainer. A year ago, it was a distant dream. Now it’s my everyday life.

But today is even more special. Today is the first performance of a brand-new show I pitched to Marcie—a magic extravaganza featuring Orion as the magician and Jeb as his “assistant.” I know, it sounds a little crazy: a trained security specialist turned magician, teamed up with a mischievous African Grey parrot. Marcie’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof when I first proposed it. But Orion and I practiced for weeks, and Jeb’s comedic timing is so spot-on that even I can’t stop laughing during our rehearsals. And Orion’s helped him get over his stage fright.

Now, I’m leaning against the backstage railing, heart thudding with a mix of nerves and excitement. The zoo’s small amphitheater is packed—families with wide-eyed kids, young couples on dates, older folks who come to the zoo just for the bird shows. The sun is high overhead, but the staff has set up big umbrellas for shade, and there’s a constant breeze rustling the palm trees lining the back of the stage.

Marcie stands beside me, clipboard in hand, scanning the audience with that critical gaze of hers. “Looks like a full house,” she mutters, half to herself, half to me.

I nod, taking a steadying breath. “Yep. Fingers crossed everything goes smoothly.”

She shoots me a sharp grin. “It will, Bird Trainer .”

I snort softly, my stomach fluttering. I’m about to respond, but an eruption of applause from the stands signals that the show is about to start. We exchange a final glance, and then I slip around the side of the stage, mind racing with last-minute checks: Are Orion’s props ready? Did Jeb get enough warm-up time? Did we feed him enough so he’s not cranky?

From my hidden vantage, I watch the show’s intro video flash across a large screen. It’s a montage of exotic birds, swirling colors, and upbeat music that the zoo’s marketing team whipped up last week. Then the lights shift, and an announcer booms over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our brand-new Magic in Flight spectacle! Please put your hands together for our resident magician… Orion Locke … and his talented co-star… Jeb the African Grey!”

The crowd bursts into cheers, and I feel a wave of pride wash over me. Orion steps onto the stage, tall and confident, wearing a fitted black jacket, jeans, and the slightest hint of a smirk. He’s come a long way from bullet wounds and bodyguard gear. Now, with a deck of cards in one hand and a small top hat perched on a stand nearby, he cuts a striking figure. The sun glints off his dark hair, and I recall countless nights watching him practice those card tricks in secret, never imagining he’d one day perform them in front of an audience.

“All right, everybody,” Orion’s voice echoes warmly, projected by the mic clipped to his lapel. “I’m not your typical magician—but I’ve got a not-so-typical helper, too. Meet Jeb!”

On cue, Jeb flutters out from the side, perched on a little rolling stand. The crowd gasps and giggles as the African Grey greets them with a squawk, then a surprisingly clear “Hello, everyone!” He’s been practicing that line for days.

Orion’s grin widens. “Care to pick a card, Jeb?”

He fans out a deck in front of the bird, who cocks his head, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “Bah-hah-mas,” a leftover from Ranger’s tall tales, then pecks at the center card. Orion flips it to show the audience—an Ace of Hearts—and slides it back into the deck.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Orion continues, “keep your eyes on Jeb. He’s going to help me find that exact card again.”

The crowd murmurs, enthralled. In typical comedic fashion, Jeb leans forward, plucks a random card from the deck with his beak, and flings it onto the stage floor. Orion bends to pick it up, revealing… the Ace of Hearts. Applause erupts, the kids in the front row bouncing in excitement. But Jeb isn’t done—he squawks, and Orion plays along like he’s listening to the bird’s instructions.

“Oh, you want to do one more trick?” Orion says, raising an eyebrow. He lifts the top hat, which the audience can see is empty. With a flourish, he sets it on the ground, taps it thrice with a wand, then tips it over. A flurry of bright confetti rains out, revealing a small plush parrot toy that Orion swears wasn’t inside before. The crowd howls with delight. Jeb, apparently miffed at the sudden confetti storm, ruffles his feathers and says, “What the—?” in his squeaky approximation of Orion’s voice, sending the audience into hysterics.

I can’t help laughing softly from the sidelines, heart brimming with pride and warmth. We did it, I think, chest light. Orion’s so at ease in front of the crowd, and Jeb is a total ham, soaking up every ounce of attention. As the act continues, Orion transitions to illusions involving small hoops, bright silks, and Jeb’s impeccable comedic timing. At one point, Jeb “steals” Orion’s wand, flying just a foot above the stage while holding it in his beak, and the children in the front row nearly fall over with laughter.

The final trick is a showstopper: Orion pretends to vanish Jeb in a big, glittering box. Everyone gasps when Orion opens the box to reveal it empty. The stage lights dim, suspense thick in the air. Then a spotlight appears on the back of the amphitheater, illuminating Jeb perched on a technician’s booth, bobbing his head like he owns the place. The crowd explodes in cheers.

I swallow the lump in my throat, overwhelmed by the joy in the amphitheater. This is my job now—helping these amazing birds shine, entertaining and educating people, and, apparently, staging magic shows that highlight Orion’s secret talent. I can’t believe how far we’ve come.

The show wraps with a thunderous round of applause. Orion takes a bow, then nods toward Jeb, who dips his head in what looks like a respectful acknowledgment but is probably just him wanting a treat. People file out, chatting excitedly, several kids begging their parents to let them see the show again tomorrow. My heart soars.

As the last visitors trickle away, I step onto the stage from behind the curtain, crossing toward Orion. He’s gently coaxing Jeb into stepping onto his forearm, passing him off to one of our fellow trainers so Jeb can rest and get some well-earned snacks. The instant he sees me, Orion’s face lights up, eyes warm.

We meet in the middle of the stage, the amphitheater almost empty now. “That was incredible,” I say, voice trembling with excitement. “You two had them in the palm of your hand.”

Orion sets a hand on my hip, leaning in to press a quick, tender kiss to my forehead. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Or Jeb,” he adds with a grin.

I glance offstage where Jeb is happily chattering away at one of the zoo staff, no doubt babbling about who-knows-what. “I think he’s expecting a five-star dinner after that performance.”

Orion chuckles. “He’ll get it. We owe him big time.” Then his gaze slides back to me. “And you too, Bird Trainer. That was your idea, your vision. I’m just following your lead.”

Warmth floods my chest, and I slide my arms around his waist. “I’m so proud of you,” I whisper, letting my head rest against his chest.

He squeezes me gently, voice a low rumble. “I love this. I love you, and the life we’re building.”

My heart flutters, remembering how uncertain everything was not so long ago—Jason’s threats, the Russians, the nights I wondered if we’d even survive. Now, we’re standing on the stage of my new job , living together without fear. The contrast is dizzying in the best way.

“Thank you for always believing in me,” I say softly, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. “Before… I never thought I’d have a life like this. Or a show that merges magic and bird training, for God’s sake.”

He chuckles, tipping my chin up for a light kiss. “You’re unstoppable, Briar. Soon enough, you’ll be running the entire zoo.”

I grin, cheeks flushing at the compliment. “Let’s focus on the next few shows first, huh?”

He smirks. “Deal. I can handle that.”

We linger there, letting the stage lights dim to a faint glow. The staff milling around understand we need this moment—there’s no immediate call to shuffle us off. My mind wanders, imagining a future of bigger bird shows, maybe even a traveling act if Marcie gets ambitious. But for now, we’ll keep it simple: daily magic sets featuring Orion and Jeb, wowing the crowds. And behind the scenes, we’ll keep building this life we’ve fought so hard for.

I slip my hand into Orion’s. “Think Jeb will still do the card tricks in tomorrow’s show, or do we need to up our game?”

He laughs, steering me gently toward the backstage area. “He might get bored and try to juggle. Or maybe vanish on me for real. That bird’s ambition knows no bounds.”

I picture that: Jeb tossing Orion’s wand into the audience mid-performance. The mental image alone has me snickering. “We’ll have to watch him carefully. But hey, at least the audience loves him.”

Orion nods. “True. He’s a star, all right.” Then his tone shifts, growing softer. “Just remember, you’re the real star here, Briar. You’re the one behind the scenes making it all happen.”

I tighten my grip on his hand, gratitude brimming in my chest. “Couldn’t do it without you,” I whisper. “You’re my partner—in magic, birds, and everything else.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, that familiar warmth I’ve come to associate with his love shining through. “Always.”

The amphitheater empties out entirely, leaving us in a quiet hush broken only by the last echoes of staff chatter. We meander backstage, where Jeb is perched contentedly, munching on grapes in a little treat bowl. He lifts a wing, babbling, “Good show, good show!”—one of the new lines we taught him last week. Orion ruffles the feathers on his head, beaming.

Then Orion slips an arm around my waist, guiding me toward the exit. “How about we celebrate?” he suggests, voice low. “Pick up dinner on the way home, maybe open that bottle of wine we’ve been saving?”

I lean into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I’d like that. Let’s do it.”

In that moment, the swirl of uncertain tomorrows and half-remembered fears fades. All I feel is the steady reassurance of Orion by my side, the soft flutter of love in my chest, and the knowledge that while life is never guaranteed to be easy, we’ve found the kind of happiness most people only dream about.

As we step out into the last golden rays of the setting sun, I glance back at the empty stage one final time, thinking of how it looked with Orion and Jeb in the spotlight, the crowd laughing and applauding. We’ve both traveled a long, dangerous road to get here. And with each day that passes, each show, each quiet dinner at home, I realize just how precious it all is. And how lucky we are to have it.

Clinging to his arm, I savor the present. Whatever the future holds—more illusions, more exotic birds, or maybe even a brand-new act featuring a parrot stand-up routine—one thing’s for sure: we’ll face it together, with laughter, magic, and a heart as full as I ever dared to hope.