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

Whatever silk had been trying to cling (red, it seemed like, because it thought he could do with a darker pocket square) understood him, and released.

With ten seconds to spare, and Jia and Faye screaming themselves hoarse, John drew the silk from the hole.

“Is that…?” Monty said. “Yes, it’s a white silk. Professor Topaz has successfully drawn a single white silk. Not only will he spend a week at the MGM Grand and enjoy a guest appearance with David Copperfield, but Red Team wins the silk scarf portion of the Four Props Challenge.”

Chapter 25

FAREWELL DINNER

Ricardo covered his face with his hands. He tasted blood…God only knew what he’d done to his tongue during the last few seconds of the damn scarf challenge. He had no idea how his reaction would be interpreted. Disappointment over Red Team stealing the victory at the last second, he hoped. When really, he was just excruciatingly relieved it hadn’t been John who’d lost.

“Well, that does it,” Bev said. “Two Reds and two Golds. I’m sure they have a nice twist in store.”

“Don’t think that way,” Sue said. “Maybe they’ll let us all—”

“Okay, kids,” Iain called out, “line up in front of the table and pay close attention to Monty.”

Ricardo tended to think Bev was on to something. Whatever a tie meant, it probably wouldn’t be good.

They lined up, John center back, as the tallest contestant, Ricardo to one side of him and Kevin Kazan to the other. Sue, on Ricardo’s other side, was tall enough to stand in the back row, especially in her heels, and she took Ricardo’s hand and squeezed. Thankfully, Ricardo caught himself before he slipped his other hand into John’s. He turned to him instead, looked him in the eye, and said, “A spot with David Copperfield? Way to go.”

“Thank you,” John said gravely. Which gave Ricardo a special thrill, since onstage, it was the way Professor Topaz said pretty much everything.

“Tonight,” Monty told them, “eight magicians battled it out head to head. We had four winners, and four losers—two on Gold Team, and two on Red Team. There is no losing team.”

Sue squeezed Ricardo’s hand hard. He squeezed back and told himself to be happy that even though he couldn’t do the same with John, at least they were standing there side by side—and (barring a very cruel twist) neither one of them would be going home.

“Unfortunately, there is no winning team either, and only one person can be dubbed the Grandmaster Magician in Magic Mansion. And so, in the interest of fairness, our viewing audience will be sending home one member from each team.”

Sue gasped, and Ricardo held on tight as she swayed. Sue hadn’t had one of “her girls” go home since Charity Young…and truth be told, no one missed that awful dummy of hers.

“You’ll have tonight to celebrate the winners and say goodbye to your fast friends at a lavish dinner party in your honor. And next episode, we’ll announce who the viewers have chosen to stay…and to go.”

The formal dining room looked pretty enough, with its champagne fountain, white roses and sparkling candelabra. But Ricardo was exhausted, bone tired, and nauseated from the stress of the day. His tongue tasted like pennies and he suspected if he did manage to swallow any food, it might very well come right back up.

His teammates’ voices registered: Bev saying it was statistically unlikely she would get to stay much longer anyway, and Muriel saying that she’d had a blast at the Mansion, and she’d only done it for a lark anyhow, and Sue saying that it wasn’t fair one of them had to go home since Gold Team, in her opinion, had not officially lost. But mostly he allowed himself the luxury, while the cameras were still setting up and scoping out their best spots, of gazing at John. He tucked a red silk into his breast pocket, then looked up at Ricardo, and smiled. It was a sad-ish smile, and heart-wrenchingly handsome in the way it fit him just so. Like the black suit, and the pocket square.

“Earth to Ricardo,” Muriel said. “Have some champagne. You look like you can use it.”

As Ricardo sipped his champagne, which helped numb the awful taste of his tongue a bit, the catering staff hauled in huge platters of finger-foods, cheeses and fruit, canapes and shrimp. The dining room was in fairly good shape, even the spots the cameras weren’t shooting, and the food was actually better than the fancy dinner they’d had for eleven minutes with David Blaine. And slowly, between the champagne and the camaraderie of his teammates, despite the fact that he would need to bid one of them goodbye, Ricardo felt the horrific anxiety of the day begin to ebb. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was enjoying himself. But eventually his knees stopped trembling, and he felt he could carry on a conversation without marking the location of the nearest trash can in case the urge to spew took over.

He was actually a bit tipsy by the time he wandered off to the bathroom, which only made sense. Even though the food was pretty good, his tongue wasn’t allowing him to enjoy anything that needed chewing, and the bubbly went down crisp and smooth.

The parts of the Mansion that weren’t currently taping were poorly lit and even a bit ominous. Ceilings were high, and in the dark, Ricardo’s footsteps sounded strange. It didn’t smell like a regular house. It smelled like a museum, or maybe an old library. And the mirror in the bathroom closest to the dining hall was speckled with dark spots where age had worn the silver backing away, which gave it a spooky, decayed feeling. He was glad enough to do his business and return to the party, but as he hurried back with his mind on the dining room, someone grabbed him by the elbow