by Tiana Laveen
To watch him work a crowd, tap into each person, is a feat within itself. Whether he is performing in a sold-out mammoth-sized auditorium or doing a simple dice trick in front of two spectators on the street, everyone receives the same attention to detail, and he is a beast in his field. He is a natural born killer of reality, forcing you to suspend your deepest distress and woes and replace them with pure imagination. When you are in a room with him, you are captured and captivated by his thick Bostonian accent, the allure and sparkle of his smoky gray eyes, and the small scar on his cheek that he received from rough play with a stray dog.
Whether he is sporting a sexy business suit with a top hat, or standing shirtless with raggedy jeans, Starr makes you pay attention without saying one word. He has full command of his environment, yet, still, it’s the same environment that chokes him, then revives him, giving him much needed oxygen all at once. He is in an abusive relationship … with HIMSELF. He is a workaholic on the weekends, a lazy bum in the afternoons. He is a dreamer and addicted to the beaches of the world, determined to visit all of them in America before he dies. At the same time, he delivers his own brand of reality with an iron fist.
He made it clear to me that he is madly in love with his fans, even the fair-weather ones, for they, as well as his haters, remind him, in his words that, ‘Nothing is promised, not even love.’ He is humble, understanding that his life would not be where it is without the presence of his adoring supporters in his life. They’ve purchased their tickets, which in turn helped him acquire his multitude of cars, motorcycles, and a spectacular place of residence.
One of Starr’s prized motorcycles. He is a self-professed expert on the subject.
These fans, haters, and fly-by-night enthusiasts have forced him to keep pumping out quality material, the kind one would talk about not for days or weeks, but years after he performed. To young up-and-coming magicians and illusionists, Starr is a role model, a guru, a household name, and so much more. To his peers, he has earned their respect; whether they like him or not is the least of his concerns. To the ones who came before him, he is a curiosity and he pays them homage. But to me, he is simply a man with an incredible gift who has chosen to share it with the world. And now, he is sharing his life with us, too…
Three red dice given to Starr from a magician friend that passed away many years ago.
He keeps them in a glass curio cabinet, rarely taking them out…
Paxton Starr…
the Illusionist who makes the whole world disappear…
Paxton continued to read the article, going through the Q & As. All the things they’d discussed that had made him laugh at times, and at other times caused pause or damn near brought him close to tears. Sometimes he was genuinely surprised at how Ivy had construed his words, body language, and the like. Other times, he recalled the incidents she wrote quite vividly, agreeing with her interpretation down to the last detail. He took several breaks while reading the words on the page, needing a breath, some air, some water flowing within. At certain points, he caught himself wracking his brain and wringing his hands, fighting the urge to pick up the phone, call the woman at work, and demand she cancel the publication.
But then, a part of him smiled and wanted this in the worst way. Not for the fame or notoriety, but because it put flesh on his bones. He felt more human, more alive than ever.
He couldn’t fault his girlfriend. She’d done an incredible job with the photos, the depth of their conversations, and all the things they’d experienced. He appreciated how she’d kept their love life to herself; it would have only spoiled the broth. At the same time, pieces of her leaked inside the words every now and again, letting him know that she loved him, she acknowledged him, she wasn’t using him to get ahead—but ahead she’d get for certain.
He finished reading the damn thing and after two glasses of red wine, he turned off his computer and headed to his bedroom. He sent a text to blow off a meeting and fell face forward onto the bed. As he lay there, eyes closed, robe hanging half off his body, he picked up her scent on her pillow. Grabbing it with both hands, he gave it a hearty inhale and his heart damn near exploded…
He grabbed his cellphone from the nightstand and pounded out a text:
Ivy, I read the exclusive. Great job, baby… see ya tonight.
He turned his phone off and placed it face down, then cradled his forehead into his folded arms as his upper body melted over the sheets and comforter. Excitement and trepidation had married inside of him. Feelings of missing his brother rose to the top of the ocean within him and overflowed, the tide violent and brutal… Those pictures took him back. He breathed slowly in and out with no alcohol, no wild driving, no weed, no pussy, no magic show to take the edge off. He was alone with no vice, nothing to cure what ailed him. He remained that way until the sun set, and when it was over, he had no regrets…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blind as a Bat
…One month later
Ivy sat next to Cassidy in the front row to see the show at the Luxor Hotel and Casino. Unlike many entertainers whose contracts were exclusive to specific hotels, Paxton was able to work at various venues and spread himself between the circuits. He’d earned the clout to demand this; he didn’t like being pushed into a box and forced to comply with rules that didn’t benefit his career.
“That was amazing!” Cassidy squealed.
Paxton stood in the middle of the stage where bursts of light surrounded him before he disappeared into thin air. The crowd was giving a standing ovation when a bat flew about in his wake, then vanished in a puff of red smoke. The darkened auditorium was soon flooded in light as the show came to a close, yet, oddly enough, Paxton returned to the stage, which wasn’t customary to his usual routine.
“Excuse me… Excuse me everyone!” His voice broke through, causing people to turn and look in his direction. He stood on the stage in his slouchy black denim jeans, leather jacket, white T-shirt, and those sparkling red dice, dangling around in his neck. Suddenly a backdrop fell behind him, one featuring three spinning red dice. “I normally don’t do this,” he said, raising his hand in the air. “But I’m asking for five more minutes of your time. Is that all right?”
The crowd came alive with excitement. A free tidbit from Starr? What a bonus. Cassidy cast a curious glance at Ivy, but all she could do was shrug at the woman. She had no idea what new trick Paxton was about to present. He’d kept it hush hush.
“Seven years ago, I was friends with a man by the name of Jefferson Davies.” Clapping could be heard from various pockets of people in the space. “Yeah, some of you apparently were familiar with him. Anyway, he was a fellow magician… a new guy on the circuit from Toledo, Ohio. Talented man. He and I met one day and really hit it off. We were close, fast friends. Jefferson would do this act with three red dice.” He pointed to the screen behind him. “It was incredible. After he passed away, I had a pendant made with two red dice.” He held up two fingers. “I told myself I had to earn the third one.” Paxton paused and scratched his head as he began to pace the stage. “See, Jefferson was a humble guy. He had charisma and knew how to treat people. Then, one day, he was taken away suddenly in a car accident. Every time the anniversary of his death comes, I become reflective and think about him and his life. He had a wife and a daughter, who he loved very much. He talked about them all the time.
“Magic was going to be their ticket out, you see? A chance at a new life. He was away doing shows, and his wife and their child were planning to finally move here to Vegas from Toledo as things began to look up. He was booking shows regularly and his fan base had begun to soar.” He paused and closed his eyes. Ivy shook her head.
Oh, Paxton. What’s going on, baby? Where is all of this coming from?
She wanted to reach out to him, rub his back, kiss his cheek, share warmth to sooth his pain. “Float On” by Modest Mouse began to play through the speakers, and people began to sway and clap to the music. “That’s right… not tryna
depress anyone tonight.” He smiled sadly and waved his arm slowly back and forth in the air. “I bring this up to not fall down on the sword of death and depression, but to celebrate life and resurrection… every facet of it. I’m an adrenaline junky. I’m sure some of you read about that in the Vegas Sun story that just came out.”
The place erupted with applause and whistles, causing the man to laugh lightly. Cassidy and Ivy looked at one another in confusion. What the hell was this man cooking up?
“Yeah… so, life is short, ya know? Too short to not enjoy yourself, to not eat well, live well, love well… to not watch magic, and to make magic with someone you love. I met a lady. She stole my heart, guys. I am in love with this chick… I’m hopeless.” More applause broke out, accompanied by whistling. “It’s funny… she was asking all the questions, but she showed me the true answers. I thought I had all the answers, but I didn’t know anything at all. What’s life without a challenge, you know? Without asking yourself the tough stuff like, ‘Why did I do this?’ ‘Why do I think that way?’ ‘Why do I love bats so damn much and is it really necessary to make some of ’em wear little bowties?’”
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
“Some questions are easy, some are harder…” A spotlight fell over his form, exposing his somber, dangerously serious expression as the music drew quieter. “Like asking yourself, ‘Forget about just me. What about us?’ When you’re madly in love and it’s a healthy love, you know? When both people bring their A-game and even when they mess up, the other person knows what the deal is and meets them half way. That’s life changing. Every weekend I perform in front of packed audiences. Those spectators could be bachelors, families, couples, you name it. Tonight… this is for the lovers. So yeah, beautiful people, I met a woman and I have a very important question to ask her…” Pilot sung, “It’s Magic.”
Suddenly the stage went completely black and the music stopped cold. Paxton was gone… nowhere in sight.
“Ivy!” Cassidy whispered aloud as she tugged at her arm and pulled her close. “Oh my God!” The woman burst out laughing, a frenzied, nervous laugh, the kind one does when they suspect they’ve won the lottery and are only seconds away from the confirmation.
Ivy could do nothing but stand there… Her tongue felt as if it were swelling in her mouth and she was suddenly disoriented. Lights began to spin around and around until a tiny spotlight fell upon her, then grew bright. All eyes turned towards her, and she took note of her face up on a screen.
Oh my God… What is he doing?! Paxton, what are you doing?
The song, “Poison Ivy” by the Coasters began to boom through the speakers.
The red dice on the screen faded into a large blue diamond hologram, spinning and spinning.
Paxton was still missing, but his voice reverberated through the speakers, blending in perfectly with the music.
“Like I said, I have to earn the third red dice. It couldn’t just be worn for the hell of it. Jefferson said one dice was for his wife, another for his mentor, and the third for his mother.” Suddenly, Paxton reappeared, this time standing so close to her on the stage, she gasped. He peered down at her and kept on talking, his gaze on her. “I’ve got an awesome mother, so much so, she made sure that this woman I have fallen so damn fast in love with had in her possession some of the most embarrassing baby photos of me that she could dig up.” Light laughter rang through the auditorium.
“I had a great mentor. Back in Boston, a guy named Edward Short who owned a magic shop helped show me some of the ropes. But, unlike Jefferson, I was missing a good luck charm… a woman who would stand with me. A woman who understood me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet… regardless of whether I was levitating or not.” He chuckled. “I didn’t have that. I had women, but not the one who’d turn my world upside down and make me stop swimming in circles. Instead, now I just float. Now it’s your turn, Poison Ivy… Float to me, baby…”
He extended his hand and curled his fingers in her direction, beckoning her over.
Two large men in tuxedos approached her, gently picked her up and carried her to the stage as if she were royalty. The crowd turned electric with applause. Ivy clasped her hands over her mouth and shook her head. Happy tears flowed, and her chest felt tight for her heart thumped a million beats per minute. The men deposited her right next to Paxton, who now stood under a blue spotlight. Taking her into his arms, he laid a gentle kiss against her lips. She shuddered in his embrace; he felt so strong, so right, so real…
When he released her, he cocked his head to the side and smiled down at her. His eyes glossed over, almost ensuring she’d be emotionally ruined if he kept up this mess. The Police crooned, “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.”
“Ivy Diane Faye, I love you…”
“I love you, too.” Her voice startled her—how loud she sounded as she spoke close to his chest, his microphone picking up the sound.
“I want my third dice. Will you be my wife? Marry me, Ivy…” A tear fell from his eye and he quickly swiped it away.
“Don’t be silly… of course I will!” She jumped into his arms and he spun her around and around so fast, she had to close her eyes. The applause and ruckus from the audience was deafening, but didn’t quite drown out The Cars singing, “Just What I Needed” as soon as she said, ‘Yes.’ In all the hubbub, she almost missed him slip his hand into his pants pocket, pull out a clear, crystal box, and from it, retrieve a large blue diamond ring.
“Oh, my God. It’s beautiful, Paxton!” He slid it on her finger and drew her close to him once again, dotting her face and the top of her head with urgent kisses. Suddenly, the spinning diamond hologram faded and fireworks erupted. She laughed, then cried as she buried her face in his chest, sheltered from all the noise, but enjoying it all the same. She felt his chest rising and falling fast as he laughed heartily, but his elation was still no match for her own.
…We appear brand new…
We disappear, and by the new dawn, we’re consumed…
I wanna go away with you, run in lavender fields like a happy, naked child.
I wanna go make magic with you, swim in silver lakes as our imaginations run wild…
“Lying Has To Stop” by Soft Hair played in the empty theatre at the Monte Carlo Casino and Hotel. It was so quiet she could hear her nails gliding across the keyboard, punching letters to form complete sentences. Ivy yawned and glanced up from her computer that was propped up on her lap as she sat cross-legged on the stage. It was easily 4:00 A.M. The last few weeks, she’d been invited to various television and radio shows to speak about her exclusive interview with Paxton featured in her paper. Initially, it was a blast, but that was short-lived and over before it even started. Eric was enjoying the benefits, but of course he wasn’t the one being hounded all hours of the day and night.
He did give her plenty of praise for her work and as her best friend predicted, his behavior towards her became more professional, less butt hurt. In fact, he gave her a beautiful engraved ink pen with her name on it and a card expressing his desire to not only remain her boss, but her friend. Eric had accepted his role in her life, and for that, she was grateful. But nothing could make her feel appreciative of the endless harassment from strange women and other members of the press. Her damn colleagues.
Paxton had been right. Some individuals in the media were nothing less than blood hungry piranhas… just like the ones he’d had swarming around him in that big tank of water. Feeling hopeful that the pestering, invasive calls would slow upon their recent engagement—once she realized the interviewers more interested in what they had going on than his own story—she disconnected from the scene and laid low.
But the calls only increased once the cat was out of the bag. Things had gotten so bad, she soon discovered she was being followed, recorded on people’s cell phones, and photographed without her permission. Oh, how the tables had turned. On the bright side, her career was in the limelight. Everyone wanted to kn
ow who this mystery woman was who not only got Paxton “Mum is the Word” Starr’s story, but also his heart. Invitations for exclusive parties in L.A. and Manhattan began to pour in, as well as tickets to premieres and all sorts of golden perks simply because she was his wife-to-be. Being officially Paxton’s fiancée brought on a whole new ballgame she hadn’t anticipated. That lovely, but over the top, stunt he’d pulled when he proposed in front of thousands of people made front page news with the online celebrity blogs and vlogs, and it wasn’t long before her mother was ringing her phone with a barrage of curses and questions…
“You told me you and he were only friends!”
“No, Mama, I told you that we weren’t friends. I said it was a business relationship that grew into more…”
***
“I told you to not get involved with another entertainer. Didn’t my experience with your father show you anything?!”
“We like what we like… and not everyone is the same. Some people can be famous and still treat others with love and respect. Dad did what he did not because he was a celebrity, but because he just didn’t give a damn…”
***
“I heard about this Paxton Starr person, Ivy… all I can do is pray for you!”
“Thank you, Mama. I’ll pray for you too.” (((eye roll)))
***
“Couldn’t you find a Black man this time around?”
