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

times was critical in keeping the chain from falling apart. Slotted, he thought, and the first ring his mittened hand fell on was slotted. It took three tries to pick it up with the fleece mitten—that thing was slippery—but he did it. Slotted. Then he grabbed two solid rings, forced them in, and pulled them to either side so the slotted ring was in the center.

He looked up. Jia had four rings linked already.

Slotted! Again, he found the correct type of ring immediately, but needed to try multiple times to grasp it.

“So, linking rings are your big thing,” Jia said, “huh?”

Why was she talking?

“Are you scared I’m going to use my ancient Chinese secret on you?”

Did she know Ricardo was talking to the rings, and she was deliberately trying to throw him off? He grabbed at a solid ring several times, then looked up to see if she was still ahead of him. She was—now by two rings.

“I’m not even very fond of the trick,” Jia said. “It’s kind of obvious, when you think about it—but it is tradition. Have you seen my act?”

“Yes.” Ricardo pawed desperately at a ring, then linked them as quickly as possible. “It was great.”

“Thanks. You know why it’s so popular?”

Ricardo linked another ring, and then looked up, expecting to see Jia ahead now by three. Instead, he saw why she was linking circles around him. She had hung her ring-chain from the crook of her elbow, and was using two hands to pick up the ring, one to push down one side of the ring so the other side popped up, and then the other hand to actually grab it. “Because you’re good?”

“Because I’m the only female Chinese conjurer on the whole circuit. That’s why.”

Ricardo popped a slotted ring up on one side and grabbed hold of it in a single try. Much better. He began linking as quickly as Jia.

“The first week-long engagement I ever landed, you know what the promoter said to me?” Jia slammed two rings together with a chime. “That maybe I should turn up my accent a little.” She grabbed another and shoved it onto her chain. “I don’t have an accent.” Another ring. “And I’m sure as hell not going to put one on like Margaret Cho when she’s making fun of her mother on Comedy Central.”

Ricardo’s chain was now trailing along behind him. He added a ring. “So…you want to be known as a good magician. Not just a Chinese magician.”

“You don’t get it—I’ll always be a Chinese magician. At least here, in America. That’s all I will ever be.” Jia linked another ring. “If I went to China, I’d probably be known as the American magician.”

Ricardo’s concentration slipped, and he felt his chain grow lighter. He looked, and three rings at the end of the chain had slipped the slot and fallen off. Should he grab the three rings together and add them back on? He didn’t know. The rules hadn’t specified whether he could pick up more than one ring at a time or not. And after Bev getting disqualified with the one-in-a-thousand twelve-inch wand in her hand, he wasn’t about to tempt fate. He just needed to work faster and keep his focus.

“Maybe I grew up in Oakland and maybe I don’t have an accent,” Jia said, “but I’m still proud of my heritage. So I don’t do a Chinese conjurer act just because I’m Chinese.”

I can’t lose another ring. Please, please, please stick together. Ricardo sent the thought urgently as he linked another ring, and the timer ticked down to the last ten seconds.

Jia’s rings chimed. “Because if I don’t do the act and do it with dignity, with pride, someone else is going to come along and exploit themselves for the novelty. I need to be so good that no one would even bother trying to imitate me.”

Apple Blossom Vanish had stuck with Ricardo for days afterward. And, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he’d even felt somewhat envious that Jia (who was ten years younger than him) had such an elaborate set and gorgeous costumes. But he’d never once questioned that she deserved them. Because she really was that good.

“And that,” Jia said, as the last seconds slipped away, “is why I need to win.”

The buzzer sounded. Ricardo tried to see how long Jia’s chain of linking rings stretched, but it was impossible to discern which were linked, and which weren’t, among all the other rings on the floor.

“Magicians,” Monty said, “You may take off your mittens. It’s time to see how you scored. Holding only the last ring in your chain, you will step away from the linking area. When the final ring clears the other unlinked rings, you’ll be told to stop. Ricardo the Magnificent?”

Ricardo nodded. His knees felt shaky and his wounded tongue tasted like raw liver. But when he pulled off the stupid mittens and touched the bare metal, he felt a tingle. A connection. A joy.

“Step forward.”

Please hold together.

Though he had the advantage of being able to talk to the rings, Ricardo walked slowly, deliberately, aware that with every step, he faced the possibility of one of the rings snagging on the pile, and a slot turning and aligning with its neighboring ring, and a big hunk of his chain dropping right off.

Please hold together.

“Stop,” Monty said, and Ricardo froze. He looked back over his shoulder—carefully, moving only his head—and saw his chain of linking rings extended several yards back before it ended just at the edge of the remaining unlinked rings. “Jia Lee? Step forward.”

Taking her cue from Ricardo, Jia stepped out of the ring pile with excruciating slowness and grace. She might not have had any choice but to embrace her roots and play the role of “Chinese conjurer,” but seeing her there in her black halter dress and Geisha-inspired makeup, Ricardo had to admit: she damn well played the hand she’d been dealt for all she was worth. And if