“Please,” Ricardo gasped.
“Why?”
Ricardo almost didn’t catch the question. It sounded more like a breath. But if John thought it was a turn-on to hear Ricardo begging, he was more than happy to oblige. “Because I want you so bad it hurts. Because every day I see you and I can’t touch you and hold you and kiss you, it’s like torture to remember how you kissed me, and how you touched me, and I’m dying for you to do it again. To do more. To do it all.”
John guided Ricardo to the love seat and lay him back. It smelled faintly of mildew—but even that couldn’t detract from Ricardo’s hottest fantasy come true. John covered Ricardo with his body, kissing him slowly, gently, and occasionally his hips dipped down and brushed their groins together—and within a few slow grinds, John’s straining bulge caught up with Ricardo’s. And maybe they’d get off like that, rubbing together like a couple of college kids in the utility closet at a mostly-straight kegger. It wouldn’t be quite as good as the main event—feeling John inside him—but it would be a pretty damn satisfying opening act.
“Yeah, like that,” Ricardo said, when their bodies brushed in a particularly keen way. John dipped his hips and did it again. He fit his mouth to Ricardo’s and allowed their bodies to slide, for the sensation to build—and maybe it would be just as intense like this. Maybe more. “So good,” he breathed into John’s mouth as everything rushed down, down, down, and the tingle of impending release began to build. The slowness of the stimulation, the indirectness of it, made it all seem even headier. And when he came, he could already tell…he was going to come hard.
When John stilled, and when that elusive stimulation ebbed before his climax, Ricardo actually whimpered.
John shushed him quietly.
Once Ricardo wrested his awareness from his own throbbing dick, he realized he heard something other than the sound of their breathing and the gentle creak of the love seat.
He heard footsteps.
John put his mouth to Ricardo’s ear, and said, “Be still.”
Ricardo nodded.
The footsteps echoed through the ballroom, ringing loud. High heels. Ricardo wondered if maybe Sue had come to check on him and make sure he was okay—and that would be fine. Sue wouldn’t make a big stink about finding him in a compromising position with the Professor. But then someone spoke, and it wasn’t Sue at all.
“Where you wanna go?”
Holy crap. Kevin Kazan?
“I dunno.” And Amazing Faye? What the heck? “Where’s a good spot?” she said. “Here?”
“Okay. Get yo’ fine self over here, then. Let’s get busy.”
No one else, right? Ricardo hadn’t even heard Kazan coming. His gym shoes barely made a squeak on the parquet floor. He hoped there would only be the two of them.
But, no. There would only be two people present for what they began doing. Rustling sounds ensued. And then wet sounds: mouth on mouth sounds. And breathing.
Ricardo almost laughed—not because the situation was even remotely funny, but as release for the anxiety that had been building all day. His erection seemed like it would be happy to keep on going with what he and John were in the midst of—he was that close—but after a minute or two, it grudgingly began to flag.
Eventually, Ricardo attempted to distract himself by counting. He was somewhere around the three-hundred mark when finally the deep-kissing sounds stopped, and Faye said, “How’s my hair?”
“It’s good.”
“Okay. We should go back.”
John held Ricardo still for a long moment after the sound of her heels receded on the ballroom floor.
“I hope that’s not the standard Red Team greeting,” Ricardo whispered.
John sniffed out a small laugh. “Don’t worry about Kevin. He’s very much not my type. And the feeling is mutual.” He brushed his lips against Ricardo’s forehead and then pushed himself into a seated position. “I’m sorry. This was too risky.”
Ricardo sat up and pressed his chest to John’s side. “No, don’t say that.”
John hesitated, then said, “I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a long time.”
Really? Ricardo’s heart pounded wildly, and before he could check himself, he said, “Me too.”
“Come with me to Vegas. I want you there, at the MGM Grand.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
And the silence that hung between them once they had both said their piece was awkward, but profoundly wonderful in a way that Ricardo would cherish forever.
“John,” Ricardo said finally, because he’d had a roller coaster of a day, and it seemed that he couldn’t just let it slide, “when I thought I was going up against you, head-to-head, I nearly choked.”
John sighed.
“The chances of that happening are getting pretty good,” Ricardo added. “The longer both of us stay here, and the more players get voted off.”
John found Ricardo’s hand, took it between both of his, and squeezed it. (And it felt nothing like holding hands with Sue.) “Promise me something,” John said.
“Not until I hear what it is.”
“Promise me that when that time comes, you won’t pull your punches.”
“Do you even realize what you’re asking? I can’t try to take you down.” And then the laughter Ricardo had needed to swallow down just moments before threatened to turn to tears, and his voice went wobbly. “You’re my hero.”
John raised Ricardo’s hand and brushed his lips across the knuckles. “Then give me the respect of your full effort. If I should happen to earn the title of Grandmaster Magician…I would hate to think it was because you’d gone easy on me.”
___
“I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a long time.”
“Me too.”
The trailer door slammed, and Marlene hit the digital marker to take the footage back to the point where Faye and Kevin entered the storage room, before Iain could fling himself down in front of the monitor. “Well,” he said. “How’d my lovebirds do?”
“See for yourself.”
In the greenish night-vision glow, Kevin and Faye kissed and grappled. She kept her hands planted firmly on his shoulders. He looked as if he couldn’t tell if he was supposed to cop a feel. Despite their stiffness—which wouldn’t be too noticeable in a two-second clip—they both managed to kiss with lots and lots of tongue in a decent semblance of enthusiasm.
“Not too bad,” Iain said. “And how about that ‘I’m so Chinese’ speech from Jia?”
“That was actually pretty impressive,” Marlene said. “I think we can use the whole thing. Did the writers come up with that?”
“Nope. I told her that if she wouldn’t go make out with Kevin, then she’d need to find some way to endear herself to the audience, or else pretty soon the mansion door would be hitting her in the ass.”
Marlene might not be fond of Iain’s tactics, but he did know how to motivate a contestant. That much was true. “And what about Muriel and Bev?”
“What about them?”
“Any particular footage where they had their moment in the spotlight?”
“Oh, who cares? All those old farts should’ve been gone by now. Nobody wants to see someone their grandma’s age in a bathing suit.”
Marlene ignored him. “Bev’s enthusiasm made the Wand Pond pretty lively. I’ll recommend that.”
Through the speaker, the Professor’s voice said, “I’m sorry. This was too risky,” and Ricardo answered, “No, don’t say that.”
“What the…?” Iain sat up straighter, and clapped his hand over the control pad before Marlene could stop the playback.
“I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a long time.”
“Me too.”
“Oh my God. The Professor is kissing Ricardo’s hand.”
“Iain….”
“Hot damn, look at ’em. Now that’s what I wanted to see from Kevin and Faye.” Iain watched with rapt fascination as the P
rofessor lovingly stroked Ricardo’s cheek, and Ricardo clasped his hand there for a moment, then turned it to kiss the palm.
“We should go,” Ricardo said.
“Holy crap—now they’re frenching each other.”
“Honestly, Iain, like you’ve never seen two men kiss.” While Iain flailed his hands in an “icky” motion, Marlene reached over and stopped the playback.
Iain treated Marlene to a bratty smirk. It was the most alert she’d ever seen him after 10 p.m. “So Topaz has been a fag all along?”
“Don’t use the word fag, you’ll get sued. And, yes, don’t you know anything? John Topaz and Casey Cornish were a big item.”
“Professor Topaz has been your favorite since day one. Maybe you should recommend these two homos as Magic Mansion’s big romantic couple.”
Marlene sighed. “You know that’s never gonna happen.”
“Why not?” Iain put on a mocking voice. “It’s not as if the viewers have never seen two men kiss.”
“You know all the giddy thirteen-year-olds on the network’s message boards think Ricardo and Sue are an item.”
“Future fag hags.”
“Go home, Iain. Just go home.”
___
“The dining hall is empty now, save for the echoes of the laughter and voices of eight formidably talented magicians. And of those magicians…two will be eliminated.
“On the Gold Team, it’s spiritualist Muriel Broom versus The Math Wizard, Bev Austin. On the Red, it’s lovely Amazing Faye versus exotic Jia Lee.
“I’m your host, Monty Shaw. Be sure to cast your votes, and tune in next time, when the female population will be drastically reduced…in Magic Mansion.”
Chapter 26
PRODUCER’S WARNING
Though the previous night’s farewell dinner had been congenial enough, it followed on the heels of a shoot so long it had drained everyone giddy. That morning’s breakfast felt depressingly sober to John in comparison. Faye, who Jia had immediately embraced as a potential ally, was now the team member who needed to be voted out of the mansion to ensure Jia would stay. Faye had betrayed her winning team, and was now poised for elimination. And Kevin had simply drained a protein shake in two swallows and stormed away in the direction of the gym.
Strains of laughter emanated from the small parlor where the Gold Team congregated over coffee and bagels. John considered joining them. After all, it wasn’t like his presence was any comfort to Faye and Jia. And yet…did he really want to announce his lack of support by blowing off his teammates like Kevin had? No. Better to stay with the Red Team. Dismal as it might be.
High heels on parquet cut the thick silence as the producer Marlene crossed the ballroom. Red Team observed her approach in silence. “Where’s your fearless leader?”
“The gym,” Jia said. It sounded like a snarl.
“How are the three of you holding up?” Marlene asked. “Do you need anything? Aspirin? Self-tanner? A fresh pair of socks?”
“I don’t know,” Faye said. “Do we? I thought one of us was going home.”
“Spare me the melodrama, princess. It’s not as if all twelve of you were going to win the competition. If you don’t need a supply-run….” Faye, Jia and John shook their heads. Marlene planted her hands on her hips and considered them for a moment, and said, “Okay, then. We’re taping the announcement at eleven and going right into the first challenge. There’ll be running involved, so it’s low heels and activewear outfits.”
John expected her to leave and touch base with the Gold Team, but instead she plucked his sleeve and said, “Come take a walk, Professor.”
John kept Marlene in his peripheral vision down the hall and out into the yard, but he didn’t have a clue what it was she needed to tell him that couldn’t be said in front of his teammates. Unless she wanted a specific reaction out of him once the eliminated player was announced. He supposed he could manage that.
A dry wind played over the loose strands of Marlene’s messy up-do as she turned to face John. She hooked stray hairs out of the corner of her mouth, looked him in the eye, and said, “So this thing between you and Ricardo.”
Inside, John groaned as everything came crashing down. But he didn’t allow it to reach his face. He stared at Marlene unblinkingly until she saw he wasn’t going to react, and she went on.
“I get it,” she said. “Do you believe me?”
John narrowed his eyes.
“Reality shows are brutal,” she said. “With regular TV, game shows or sitcoms or dramas, there’s a point at which the camera shuts off. Not here. And, as a culture, I think we value our privacy—probably more than we know, since aside from extreme circumstances like hospitals or prison, most of us never need to experience life in a fishbowl. Because of that…” she wrapped her too-thin arms around herself and gave herself a squeeze… “you bond.”
John sighed.
“I know it’s hard,” Marlene said. “I know. But pretty soon we’ll be in the Final Four…and then one last big spectacle of a challenge…and it’s done. You take your trip to Vegas, you schmooze with Copperfield’s guys, you ride the fame wagon as far as it’ll take you, and you and Ricardo can see if you find each other anywhere near as fascinating out there in the real world. Don’t blow it now by getting caught with your pants down. Because if you do—”
“Where did you tape us together?”
“Sonofa—there’s more than one possibility? The prop room, John. There were night-vision cameras in the prop room. I deleted the footage before it went to editing, but let’s face it, there are twenty-four hours in my day just like everyone else’s, and in that time we shoot about two hundred hours’ worth of footage. I can’t screen it all. And frankly, I shouldn’t need to.”
“I understand.”
“If you don’t want to get lynched, stop pulling the rope out of your sleeve and handing it to the mob.”
“No, it’s…it was only last night.”
Marlene looked at him hard. “You’re sure?”
Was he? John’s time in the Mansion and the lengthy shoots were beginning to take their toll. “I think so.”
“Oh, hell.” Marlene shook her head. “You think some of the shit they put you through now is humiliating? Try adding a score. You could be out taking one of your lost-in-thought strolls around the estate—yeah, they’ve taped you doing that—add some dopey music to it, and you come across like you’re on the brink of senility. Or how about some clever editing cuts? Juxtapose a shot of you staring at Ricardo all goo-goo-eyed with one of him curling his lip at the sight of Kevin Kazan. Only it’ll look like you’re the one who turns him off, a dirty old letch pestering him with unwelcome advances. Ricardo is the audience’s darling. If you care about him as much as you say you do…don’t blow it for him.”
While John was delighted to hear that Ricardo was faring well with viewers…. “And going public about a relationship with another man would compromise that? Come on, Marlene. We’re both out. And he’s hardly butch.”
She shook her head. “People see what they want to see—and then they gossip about it on the message boards. There’s a whole thread about how and where he should propose to Sue.”
Of course, Marlene was right. Only a few more challenges, and then he and Ricardo would be absolutely free to do as they pleased.
Unless Marlene was right about their bond being volatile, and outside of the Mansion, their chemistry would fizzle.
John couldn’t say what the future would hold, but for now, he could certainly wait a few more weeks to put the Mansion behind him. He was about to tell Marlene as much and thank her for her warning, when she added, “Neither of you have anything about your personal lives online, so there isn’t any dirt for the casual fan to dig up. And Ricardo might not be particularly masculine, Professor, but you are. I think you should consider feigning an interest in Jia so the powers that be won’t have any reason to read into your longing looks.”
Marlene fussed with her thi
n cardigan in a finicky gesture eerily like Rose Topaz…and as vividly as if it had just happened that very day, he heard his mother’s voice, sharp and incisive, seething up out of his long-forgotten memories.
What you reading? I never give you this. What you care about Guam for? You born in California. You American, Johnny. American. You go around and tell the other kids you Chamorro? You think that make you a big shot? Huh? You special? You different? You stupid, Johnny, that what you are. It no good to be different. It only make people hate you.
Every spiteful accusation was accompanied by a page torn from the book…a library book. Later, John’s stepfather had quietly slipped him two dollars and fifty cents, which covered the cost of having it replaced. But once John had mumbled the excuse about his nonexistent dog eating it and handed over the fee, he’d been too ashamed to show his face in that library again.
The desire to acquiesce to Marlene’s wishes evaporated.
“I appreciate your concern,” John told her, “but I’m too set in my ways to duck back into the closet. And I respect Jia. She deserves better.”
Marlene didn’t blow up. She simply shrugged. She didn’t have as much personally at stake as Rose had. “Out and proud. Well, good for you, Professor. I guess at the end of the day, you’re the one you’ve got to live with.”
“But it shouldn’t reflect on Ricardo. If he’s the viewers’ favorite…” dare he read into what Marlene was saying? That Ricardo was poised to win? “Don’t let my personal decisions stand in his way.”
___
Eight magicians gathered in the yard. The wind was still high and dry, and Iain had set a few crewmen with leaf blowers to flush out debris from the perimeter of the location and minimize the potential of a wayward leaf or candy bar wrapper flying into a shot. Ricardo was wearing another one of his clingy, sparkly outfits. John had only allowed himself a glance. But the glance was enough to test his newfound resolve to keep his eyes on the prize.
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