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

the filming. It was easy enough for John to sense when the lenses were on him. And when they weren’t, it was impossible to look at anything but Ricardo.

“Are we gonna get a smoke break?” Chip called out in a very un-Elvis like way. “We’ve been on for five hours without a break.”

“You had to go and mention it,” Charity Young said in her falsetto voice while working her puppet’s mouth. “Now I gotta take a leak.”

Sue, and then Ricardo, laughed uneasily in support of their teammate, but then Charity said even louder, “Tinkle. Pee. Whiz. Do a number one. Drain the main vein.” It grew so awkward that eventually the laughter stopped and everyone simply stared. Charity rolled her eyes as if to say, Puppets. You can dress ’em up but you can’t take ’em out.

Iain broke the huddle, Monty was positioned off to one side of the group looking fresh-faced and alert, though possibly that was because his body clock was running on Australian time, and the larger cameras rolled. John managed to tear his eyes from Ricardo. But only just.

“Well done on your first challenge, Magicians,” Monty enthused. “You’ve all had a long day, and no doubt you’re eager to avail yourselves of the mansion’s many comforts. But here’s the thing about being waited on hand and foot: if someone gets to relax, that means someone else needs to do all the work.”

John could think of someone he’d happily wait on hand and foot. But a camera was hovering at his side, and he put on his most stoic face.

“Kevin and Sue, you’re tonight’s big winners, which meant you got to pick your teams. But what about tonight’s biggest losers?”

Cameras swarmed as, no doubt, several of the magician’s faces registered panic.

Monty beamed at the group for an unnaturally long pause, until Iain murmured, “Go ahead.”

As easily as if he’d just taken a breath, Monty went on in his crisp Aussie accent. “Eight of you will enjoy hors d’oeuvres and nightcaps before you turn in. And who better to serve them to you than the four lowest-scoring players?”

Moaning and groaning and jeering broke out around John, but the thing that caught his attention was Ricardo looking back over his shoulder and catching John’s eye, and then his on-camera smile went ever so slightly…naughty.

As if to say, We’re having a drink. You and me.

As if the rest of the mansion, the boom operators, the camera crew, the producers, the production assistants, the host and the other contestants—none of them even existed.

And then the lights angled into Ricardo’s eyes, and the iris glinted the most haunting shade of dark blue, like the Pacific under a stormy sky, and John could hardly quell a smile in return.

Thankfully the production assistants began gathering them into the ballroom for the next leg of shooting before John succumbed to the urge to throw caution to the wind and cover their tracks so he could slip Ricardo aside into a place where truly, only the two of them still existed.

Unfortunately, that place would be tricky to find, especially while they were filming a segment.

And especially when the rest of Ricardo’s team was present. Sue and Bev immediately flanked him on the couch, and he would need to wait for a natural opening to break away and come to John if he wanted to avoid being completely obvious.

But then Fabian parked himself beside John, and wherever Fabian went, Kevin and his “bling” were sure to follow.

While the top-scoring magicians jockeyed for position, Chip Challenge, Ken Barron, Amazing Faye and Charity Young were taken aside by Iain. The lowest scoring men were given paper diner-hats, and the women ridiculous frilly aprons—but with a quick whispered negotiation, Chip and Charity swapped so that Chip could wear the apron as a gag, and “Oscar” could be the one handing out canapés. Though his puppet-hands were controlled by sticks, and couldn’t actually grasp anything.

John almost felt sorry for the Gold Team. But he presumed the deadweight would fall away soon enough.

Unlike Chip and Charity, Ken and Faye seemed to be taking their roles quite seriously. Ken mixed drinks strong enough to singe off eyebrows, and Faye tottered up to deliver them on spiked heels with her derrière thrust out and her apron cinched tight. When she handed John his Manhattan, she bent low, so as to bathe him in her perfume and treat him to a prolonged glimpse down her neckline.

Despite the artificiality and the hint of desperation, Faye was actually quite an attractive young woman. No doubt the sex-kitten act would get her somewhere with someone. After all, everyone was somebody’s “type.” Apparently, and against all odds, even John.

The restored ballroom was elegant, from the parquet floor to the leaded glass windows, and although it was lit up rather brightly to facilitate taping, the atmosphere was convivial. Food and drink flowed. Fabian grumbled about the fish that had gone up his nose and the fact that it was ridiculous he wasn’t allowed to call his wife, while across the room, the women hung on Ricardo’s every word like a devoted harem. John couldn’t say he blamed them.

It felt like a party—a late-night party that was winding down, but a party nonetheless. The whiskey was mellow, the caviar was mild, and Fabian’s company was a pleasant distraction. Even better, every now and then the most handsome man in the room treated John to a secret smile. After an hour or so, he’d just about forgotten about the cameras…until Ken Barron went down in a cacophony of shattered glass, and the cameramen swarmed him.

Both Chip and Charity were nearby. Chip reacted fast, kneeling in the spilled drinks without a thought for his Elvis costume. “Dude, are you okay?” Charity thrust her puppet in beside him, as if “Oscar” might be of some help to the situation, and Chip batted it aside with a dismayed, “What the fuck?”

Ken groaned and pushed himself up off the floor, and Chip said, “Oh, man.”

Iain had