Magic Mansion by Jordan Price (best fiction books to read .txt) 📕

spent in front of the green screen. This was it—their big break. From here on out, they’d all be TV personalities…worst case scenario, only for one hour. But even then, they’d play on the intro for six more weeks, twirling and smiling and flinging cards and summoning spirits and writing with a pretend piece of chalk. Even that brief exposure would be enough to give any of their careers a meaningful boost.

“Welcome, magicians.”

Sue squeezed Ricardo’s hand so hard he began to worry she might strain a ligament. He gave her a quick double-squeeze and she let up. A bit.

“Twelve very different performers will enter these doors, but only one will emerge with the coveted title of Grandmaster Magician. Are you up for the challenge? Let’s find out. I’m your host, Monty Shaw, and this…is Magic Mansion!”

“One more time,” Marlene called out. “Softer on the A’s.”

Monty went back into the mansion, then exited again and repeated his lines. They did five takes, and then moved on to the next segment. By then it was after ten. The sky was dark, and the air had turned chill. Comfortable tuxedo weather, but not so comfortable ballgown weather. Sue was looking very…perky. No doubt it would only endear her to the male viewers in the eighteen to twenty-four group.

“Let’s form a cluster here.” Marlene indicated the front patio. “Taller magicians toward the back—Jia, you come up front. You too, Faye. Stand on that mark, Monty, and announce the challenge.”

Both Sue and Bev hauled on Ricardo’s hands, as if to say, What challenge? He gave them each a smile as reassuring as he could make it—because surely they wouldn’t make him eat worms or roll around on the ground in his new tux.

Would they?

He felt very alone as his cohorts filed to the front of the group, but the feeling was short-lived. Professor Topaz took Sue’s place—holding his hand? No. But pressing into him from elbow to shoulder?

Oh, yes.

Ricardo restrained himself from throwing back his head and whooping with glee.

He hadn’t been able to dig up much on Professor Topaz’ life. It wasn’t as if the Professor kept a Facebook page where he traded LOLs with his fans and blogged about whether he’d had the patty melt or the tuna on rye for lunch. So Ricardo tried his best not to presume the Professor was available, or even openly gay. The thing that had happened between them—the warning to Ricardo about keeping his real magic under wraps that took an unexpected turn—was quite possibly just some fluke, a reaction to the stress of the audition, a way to let off steam.

But in case it wasn’t, he’d had a little spiel prepared about how he was hoping for a chance to get to know the Professor better—though he’d somehow failed to prepare for the camera hovering beside him. He’d developed a lengthy and persuasive explanation about how he completely understood if the Professor was not in a position to develop that particular sort of relationship with Ricardo, and if so, it would still be totally awesome to get to know him as a mentor. And, hopefully, a friend. But with the camera there and the other magicians all around them, instead he condensed it down to, “It’s really good to see you, Professor.”

The Professor held his gaze for a long moment, then said, “Call me John.”

Magical words? Hardly. But they made Ricardo’s heart soar nonetheless.

“Everyone look excited,” Marlene told the group as the cameras orbited around them. “Monty just greeted you. You’re seeing the mansion for the first time. And you’re thinking to yourself, I might really win this thing.”

Ricardo had never entertained the notion that he might actually win the competition. But Professor Topaz—John—seemed happy to see him. And that made him feel even giddier than the prospect of being on TV.

A teleprompter off to the side of the magicians began to scroll words, and Monty read, “From Harry Houdini to Criss Angel, magicians have long been known for getting out of tight spaces. But tonight, we’re going to see how long you can stay in.” He lavished a bright white smile on them. “I hope no one’s feeling claustrophobic.”

Marlene signaled to the crew. “Okay, that’s plenty of tape. Let’s load up the golf carts and take the talent over to the fishtanks.”

At the front of the group, Sue whispered to Muriel, “Did she say fishtanks?”

“Maybe they’re full of Jell-o,” Muriel suggested.

Ken Barron, the escape artist, grumbled, “I just bought this suit.”

At least now Ricardo didn’t need to say it himself.

Golf carts pulled up, and it seemed as if Ricardo would get a moment alone (well, off-camera, anyway) with John. Was there any one part of his speech that he could do justice to on a three-minute drive to the other end of the estate? While he considered if it would sound noble without any context to let John know he was valued as a mentor as well as anything else, or if it would sound more like a weird brush-off, a familiar hand slipped into his, and pink lamé rustled against the side of his tux. “I didn’t know there’d be a challenge tonight,” Sue whispered. “This dress is held up by double-stick tape.”

While Ricardo’s attention was on Sue, Iain shuttled John onto a golf cart with one of the other magicians, and the need to sort through the Professor-speech for a key point evaporated.

Maybe that was for the best. Ricardo suspected he needed more than three whispered minutes to explain where he was coming from.

The group reassembled in the east garden of the mansion, where floodlights bathed four fish tanks on platforms in harsh halogen glows. Since escapology was involved, Ricardo had been expecting coffin-sized tanks, but despite all the tubes and hoses hooked up to them, these were small and unassuming.

The animal wranglers beside them in tall rubber boots, though, were not.

The cast was assembled, the teleprompter rolled, and on Marlene’s cue, Monty addressed the group from beside the four platform tanks.