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

a professional magician? If so, Magic Mansion is looking for you. Call 888—”

The channel changed. An inane laugh track swelled, then fizzled. Theme music piped in. John could hardly pound on the floor and tell the neighbors to change the channel back. Not only would they misinterpret the knocking as a complaint about the noise level—the number would be long gone. John raised the phone to his ear again, and found Dick saying, “…you never know. If you start getting out more, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

“Dick,” John cut in. His agent fell silent. “What do you know about Magic Mansion?”

Chapter 2

THE AUDITION

It had been years—hell, maybe more than a decade—since Ricardo Hart actually felt nervous before a show. Nervous enough to make his hands sweat. And while perspiration-slicked palms were the bane of any performer, for a stage magician, sweaty hands were the absolute kiss of death.

He placed his palms flat against his thighs and tried his best to look objectively at his situation. True, a quarter of a million dollars was at stake, and the young lady currently onstage was cute…but she was clumsy. Though she might have the advantage of being able to work the judges in high heels and fishnet stockings, Ricardo could score better on posture alone, as well as stage presence, audience banter, and overall execution.

He shifted in his seat and touched his props for comfort. When he hefted one of his silver linking rings, however, the smooth metal slid in his sweaty grasp, which did nothing to alleviate his nerves. All week long he’d been picturing himself acing the audition, confidence being ninety percent of the game. But now? Now he was so terrified he could only hope to get through his act without embarrassing himself.

“And that, my good judges, is the Bottomless Gibeciere.” She pronounced gibeciere strangely, as if she’d never heard it spoken—and maybe she hadn’t. Nowadays, magic could be learned online. There was no such thing as the Internet when magic first called to Ricardo. He’d picked up the craft from magazines like Genii Magazine, honed it in a magic and circus skills course at summer camp in Minnesota, and finally perfected it by apprenticing several working magicians in L.A. From the tender age of ten to his most recent thirty-fifth birthday, a quarter century, Ricardo had trained as a performer. The e-gician on stage shouldn’t pose any threat to someone like him.

Although she did look really, really good in fishnet.

A production assistant with a clipboard and a headset microphone approached the back of the theater where the remaining magicians waited their turns. He flashed a penlight on his clipboard, and Ricardo tensed, wiped his palms on his slacks, and waited to hear his name called. “Okay…so we’re running overtime, and this place is booked to shoot an infomercial in just a couple of hours….”

Ricardo felt his heart stutter. Running overtime? How could that possibly be? He pleaded with his eyes, well aware that the very worst thing he could do would be to act desperate, but he was unable to stop himself.

Turning away from the row of hopeful magician faces, the producer murmured into his headset, then turned back and said, “So here’s what we’re gonna do. You guys’ll be performing two at a time.”

Not only did Ricardo’s heart stop again…it felt as if it dropped within his chest cavity to lie there like a taxidermy prop dove. He was a one-man act. There was no way he’d share the stage with one of those amateurs.

“Next up, Ricardo the Magnificent…”

No. He wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it. His act depended on focus from the audience. No way could it happen with someone else performing on the same stage, at the same time.

“…and Professor Topaz.”

In the next row, a figure rose. Even from behind, Ricardo knew him by the regal set of his broad shoulders and the silhouette of his impeccably-styled hair. Ricardo had never seen him from anywhere but the audience. He was even taller in person than he looked onstage.

The Professor Topaz had been a few yards away from him this entire time? Ricardo’s heart imploded like a star gone supernova.

“You don’t need a table,” the producer asked Ricardo, “right? It says here you don’t need a table.”

“No table.” Ricardo’s voice came out husky.

“Okay, let’s get that table moved stage left.” Stagehands swarmed out from behind the curtains and began re-positioning the set. The production assistant turned back toward Ricardo and Professor Topaz. “Remember, guys, Magic Mansion isn’t only about your parlor tricks.” He seemed bored, like he’d given those instructions one time too many. “That’s the premise of the show, but the real reason people watch reality TV is to see how the contestants interact with each other.”

Professor Topaz turned. The motion made his velvet cape flare gently, and the stage lights framed him with backlighting. All Ricardo could see of his features was the glint of the ambient light off his eyeballs as he donned his top hat. “Break a leg,” he said solemnly.

Then again, he said everything solemnly. That was part of his act.

The thought of sharing the stage with Professor Topaz transported Ricardo from the state of simple nervousness to that of all-out, mind-numbing panic. Did he even remember how to breathe? It seemed as if he might not. In. Out. There was the trick of it. Now, hopefully, he could keep going with it while he forced himself through his act.

“You may begin,” Topaz said quietly. He’d opened a case and needed just a moment to set up his props. Ricardo recognized the cage-like box immediately. Square circle, a classic. Ricardo had seen him do the trick at the Humboldt county fair. He’d been very solemn about it.

Ricardo’s silver linking rings didn’t need any prep. He glided to the front of the stage and launched into his act without hesitation. Prepare to be amazed, et cetera, et cetera. His act wasn’t about the metal rings, though, and it wasn’t about his banter. It