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

squatted down beside them, exchanged a few whispers, then shook his head and backed out of the shot.

“It’s fine,” Chip announced. “Just one cocktail too many.”

“He’s drunk?” Jia said.

“Not just drunk,” Kevin said. “Wa-sted.”

“When the heck did he have time to drink?” Jia said. “He’s been serving us all night.”

Chip slung Ken’s arm around his chunky shoulders and said, “Okay, buddy, time for bed. Party’s over.”

_____

About damn well time, too. Iain checked his watch. Three-thirty. If Marlene expected him to show up for work even one second before noon, she could come drag him out of bed herself.

A stylist blotted the shine off Monty’s chin while he read through his latest set of lines, and Iain broke another couple of glasses on the floor to ensure the scene of Ken’s drunken accident looked good on camera. He blocked the scene with a few simple directions, stepped aside, and said, “Action.”

Monty stepped up to the bar, squatted among the broken glass, smiled winningly at the camera, and said, “Some party! But what else can you expect from twelve wild and crazy magicians?” He straightened up and strolled to the end of the bar, where the lampshades in the background were now askew, and the set dressers had thrown some couch cushions on the floor. That, interspersed with a few shots of men sipping booze and women laughing, would make it seem like a night at Hugh Heffner’s place, rather than the awkward snoozefest it had actually been.

“The four contestants with the lowest scores in the first challenge think their punishment is over, but it’s only just begun. Tomorrow, they’ll stay behind and clean up this mess while the other magicians relax for a day at the spa.

“And that’s not all. While they’re here slaving away, the viewers at home will be voting to eliminate one player on each team.

“So who’s it going to be? It’s the comedian versus the escape artist on the Red Team, and the ventriloquist versus the femme fatale on the Gold. Cast your votes, and be sure to tune in next time to find out who gets to stay…in Magic Mansion.”

Chapter 12

SPA DAY

Last time, on Magic Mansion….

“Twelve magicians gathered for their first challenge, and street magician Kevin Kazan prevailed, earning him the title of the Red Team leader. Sue the gift shop girl was a surprise runner-up, and now she’s at the helm of the Gold Team.

“The lowest-scoring contestants on each team are stuck cleaning the mansion while the victors enjoy the spoils at a luxurious day spa. But what the magicians don’t know is that one member of each team has been voted off by our viewers.

“I’m your host, Monty Shaw. Stay tuned and find out who will be the first to leave…Magic Mansion.”

____

There were six people in the gold van: the driver, the cameraman, Sue Wozniak, Bev the Math Wizard, Muriel Broom, and Ricardo. “Talk, people,” said an irritated voice through the car’s stereo system. Iain was with them in spirit—via cell phone. Ricardo supposed that raised the count to seven. “Shots of the four of you just sitting there won’t make for scintillating TV.”

“So,” Ricardo said brightly, to no one in particular. “How did you sleep?”

“Like sardines,” Bev said. “There were four beds in the room, and then they wedged in an air mattress.”

It was ridiculous, in this day and age, that Ricardo hadn’t been allowed to share a room with any of his teammates. But he sensed it might veer into damaging territory if he complained about it, so instead, he said, “Oh. Who slept there?”

“I did,” Sue said. “I thought I’d be too excited to sleep anyway, but I guess I was more worn out than I thought. It was no big deal. Kind of like camping.”

There was a long, tedious pause—not because the magicians had nothing to say to one another, but only because the camera was more intimidating than any of them had anticipated. Over the car speakers, Iain said, “You’re killing me, people. Say anything.”

Muriel jerked her head up as if she’d been caught nodding off in class, and blurted out, “I felt that damn dummy looking at me all night,” and Bev, before she could stop herself, whooped in laughter.

It was contagious. The cameraman held steady—maybe he was a veteran at filming reality TV—but the driver did crack a smile.

Once the laughter finally calmed (taking much longer than it normally would have, given the thick level of anxiety in the van), Muriel added, “What’s that thing’s name? Oscar? That means it’s a male dummy. I say it stays with Ricardo from now on.”

The women laughed the rest of the way to the spa. Ricardo did his best to laugh along…though it was hard enough sleeping in the mansion without worrying about glass eyes staring at him in the dark.

In a way, though, wasn’t that exactly what he was already doing? Dummy or not, there was a night-vision camera in every room.

That thought was of no particular comfort.

Iain’s voice broke into the laughter with, “Okay, kids, here’s the deal. We’ve only got this place booked for three hours and setup took up two. It needs to look like you guys are here all day, so each of you will get a separate treatment where we can film you doing a bunch of different spa stuff. The seaweed wrap and the deep-tissue massage will flash the most skin. Then we have an aromatherapy thing and something else with feet. What’s that?” he asked, as if he was holding a phone up to his other ear and having a second conversation…which, probably, he was. “Oh. Reflexology. So decide amongst yourselves who wants to do what, and be ready to strip down when you get here.”

The van, which had just been filled with laughter, went heavily silent once Iain was done talking. Ricardo looked to Sue to see if she thought Iain was actually gone. She shrugged. Then Bev said quietly, “I’d prefer not to get undressed on camera unless I