What he really hoped was that it was Ricardo. Despite Marlene’s cautions. And despite the fact that he was doing his best to pretend he didn’t. He opened the door, and yes—it was Ricardo…who slammed the door behind him and threw his arms around John’s neck, silencing the protest John was about to make with a lingering kiss.
Though John regretted it, he was the one to turn his mouth aside, and say, “Wait.”
“My tongue’s a lot better today—almost good as new.”
“Not that. I’m sure we’re being taped.”
“There’s no camera in here. I asked the gaffer. He said there wasn’t.”
John touched Ricardo’s hair. It was free from styling products, soft and natural. Without makeup, in his jeans and his T-shirt, this would be how he would look at home, just him and John. The anticipation was a tantalizing pang in John’s chest. It seemed as if he’d forgotten how to look forward to something…until now. “We can’t be sure. And whatever we do in these next few days, these last few challenges, could affect us for the rest of our careers.”
“Why would anyone care about us?”
“You never know. The less gossip we provide people with, the more we can keep the focus where it needs to be. On our talent.”
“Talent?” Ricardo scoffed. “This show doesn’t even have anything to do with magic. If there was one thing I agree with Faye about, it’s that. Magic Mansion stunts aren’t about anything but dumb luck.”
“Like the grit that happened to blow itself into Kevin’s eyes.”
Ricardo couldn’t quite suppress a smile. “You could tell, huh?”
“Ricardo…” John stroked his cheek. “Be careful. When you’re obvious about using True magic…it doesn’t end well.”
“It’s fine.” Ricardo rose onto his toes and coaxed another kiss from John. His lips were too sweet to resist—but thankfully he showed mercy and ended the kiss before it went anywhere John would regret. “No one will ever know.”
“Humor me. You’ve got looks, and talent, and style. Enough to win on those qualities alone.”
“You really think I could win?”
John gazed hard into Ricardo’s eyes. “I know you can.”
“I dunno.” Ricardo slipped his arms around John’s waist and trailed his fingertips down the seat of John’s pants. “I’ve got some pretty stiff competition.” A few more of those caresses and that would be true…literally. Ricardo released John and took a step back. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said. If it ever does come down to you against me, I want you to go full-out and give it everything you’ve got. If it turns out I lose to you—that would be just as satisfying to me as winning the big prize myself.”
___
The matter of whether or not his room had come with a hidden camera or two did plague John, just on principle. Over the next few days, when he returned to his new room, he scoured the molding and the wallpaper. Plaster? Yes. Wood? Yes. Metal? Yes. The mansion showed him the impression of dozens of tiny nails holding the lath to the studs.
Camera? The house didn’t answer.
Fine, what was a camera made of? John thought. Circuitry? Glass? Plastic? No, the mansion claimed. Nothing like that.
It was somewhat reassuring, he supposed, but revealing something with his True magic was certainly not foolproof. Not if he couldn’t figure out the right questions to ask.
After a few tedious days where the talent had nothing to do, an assistant tapped on John’s door and told him to be in the lobby by eleven in his formalwear. John did his best not to read into it…though he dreaded that the formalwear had something to do with the “special surprise” he’d won with the conspicuous use of his talent. The other magicians joined him in the lobby, looking sparkly or sleek. Except Bev, who seemed to have dressed for a PTA meeting in a wool suit and sensible shoes.
A black stretch limo with Magic Mansion decals on the doors awaited them at the foot of the stairs—a tight squeeze for all six of them plus a handheld. But at least the cameraman was willing to sit next to Kevin. “What do you think your big surprise is going to be?” Bev asked Sue and Ricardo; although they were no longer wearing their Gold Team medallions, they still functioned as a single unit.
“I dunno,” Ricardo said. “Do you think we’ll finally get to perform?”
Kevin’s overly loud reply startled them all. “Why don’t y’all ask the Professor? He seem to know a lot o’ things.”
Everyone went quiet. Jia narrowed her eyes as if she might be ready to launch into yet another squabble…but instead she opted to watch and wait.
When no one took his bait, Kevin went on as if someone had indeed prompted him. “Like the brown pegs. Seem like he knew were all o’ them were. Don’t it?”
“Oh, shut up,” Jia spat. “You’re just jealous.”
“I got nothin’ to be jealous about. I made four runs by myself. None o’ y’all made four runs. Only reason I didn’t win…was ’cos I didn’t have Miz Marlene whispering sweet nothings in my ear.”
“What are you accusing him of, exactly?” Bev demanded. “Cheating? Or sleeping with the producer?”
The limo pulled up in front of a theatre before she could make Kevin explain himself. He just crossed his arms and smiled knowingly as the moods of all the magicians took a steep plummet.
John knew he should have gone for at least one white peg. Now look where his poor judgement had gotten him.
When the limo doors opened onto a red carpet, there was no time left for should-haves and what-ifs. Dozens of Magic Mansion fans were gathered, many in red or gold, since they wouldn’t know the teams had been dispensed with until that week’s taping had been edited and aired. A few young Asian women appeared to be cosplaying Jia Lee in Geisha makeup, dragon gowns and haughty sneers. Someone toward the back was waving a hand-lettered sign that read Bev equals Winner! And a pair of awkward pre-teen girls in front wore custom jerseys with Team Ricardo stretched across their training bras.
Iain, already in place with a bullhorn, said, “There’ll be time for autographs after the show. For now, just act excited and cheer as each contestant walks from the limo to the building. Magicians, one at a time.”
John watched each of his competitors disappear through the limo door to bursts of raucous cheering. Of everyone, Ricardo did seem to inspire the most adulation. When John unfolded himself from the confines of the limo and donned his top hat, the crowd actually went silent for a moment, staring up at him as if they were startled by his physical presence…but then someone called out, “Professor!” and a cheer rang up for John.
He nodded to the fans as he strode regally up the red carpet—particularly the youngest of them. He’d always connected well with children who hadn’t yet had their sense of wonder stolen from them. Though he did note, as he stepped into the theatre, that the crowd cheered just as enthusiastically for Kevin.
Chapter 29
BLAST FROM THE PAST
John waited stage right for the lighting techs to finish their tweaks and the audience to be seated. He peeked out at the theatre, a new 120-seater on Le Brea, red velvet upholstery disappearing behind the fans as they filed in and found their places. Kevin, Jia and Bev were positioned in the front row with a pair of empty seats buffering them from the rest of the crowd, and a handheld parked in front of them to capture their reaction to whatever was about to unfold. Ricardo and Sue were sequestered off-stage. Apparently they were to receive their “surprises” separately.
Unless the surprise was, as Ricardo had guessed, simply an opportunity to perform. John found a gap in the curtains and scanned the audience while a sound man miked him. Not a full house. But almost. Not bad at all for a weekday matinee. It had been at least five years since John had performed in a venue as classy as this. And as Iain cleared the stage and gave the lighting tech a final note, the house lights dimmed, and John found the dread in his heart begin to lift…and eagerness take its place.
Monty stepped out from stage left, followed b
y a spotlight. Applause rang through the auditorium.
“Welcome, Mansioneers, to a very special taping of Magic Mansion in which you’ll get to know your favorite magicians…a little bit better.”
An assistant told John to hit the mark stage right. John stepped out to a blinding spotlight and a swell of applause. Monty was polished and handsome in the intense stage lighting, and for all that he and John had never spoken more than a few pleasantries over the crafts service table, it felt comfortingly familiar to see him in this strange and public context.
“Professor Topaz,” he said, “your career in magic spans the longest of anyone in the Mansion, stretching all the way back to the fifties, when you handled doves for your uncle, Illusionist Glen Forrest.”
The lighting engineer killed the spotlight, and a slide appeared on the wall behind John, twenty-five feet high. It was so oversized, it took him a moment to recognize it—though it was perfectly clear to the audience. It was a shot that had appeared in Hugard’s Magic Monthly in 1958—the halftone big and grainy at this size. Glenn, Rose, and John in the middle, with Glenn’s too-big top hat sliding over his eyes.
“Your act took a detour when you went off to college…” The slide changed. John in his cap and gown, with hair past his collar and the then-new beard he’d grown so attached to. A draft dodger if ever there was one. “…which led to your stint teaching at Berkley that earned you the name ‘Professor.’”
Two semesters as adjunct faculty in the English and Lit department. Hardly a stellar career.
“But the call of magic ran deep in your veins…and soon it was no longer enough to wow your audiences on weekends and semester breaks.”
The shot of John performing at Marin County Sunflower Fest in a skin-tight long-sleeved T-shirt with hair down to his shoulders flashed onto the wall. Well, it was fashionable then. Where did they get these snapshots, anyway?
“Many magicians take assistants, but you preferred the focus and intimacy of solo performing and close-up illusions.”
The ubiquitous promotional shot John used for most of the eighties covered the wall. Tuxedo, top hat, gloves, and a single coin poised between his fingers. Aside from the ruffles on the tuxedo shirt and the absence of gray streaks in his beard, he looked very much like he did today.
“Although when you were forty-four, you finally did take on a partner.”
Of course not. John always performed alone.
And then a shot of John and Casey on the beach in Laguna appeared. Shirtless. Laughing. In shell necklaces and horribly dated hair. With their arms around each other—clearly more than just good friends.
“Casey Cornish was known as the Gentleman Magician—quick with a joke and a smile. The complete opposite of the ultra-serious Professor Topaz. But as they say, opposites attract.”
Another shot of them dancing at their neighbor’s wedding, Casey in a white tux and John in black. Slightly drunk, judging by the way they were clinging to one another. Only marginally less intimate than the photo of them feeding each other wedding cake that they would hide when Mrs. Cornish visited.
Someone in the audience gasped. But other than that single indrawn breath, it was quiet enough to hear the whir of the slide projector fan and the backstage murmurs as crew shuffled people around behind the curtains.
Monty said, “Those were some very good years…”
More photos. A few performances, but more personal shots of Casey and John. The Halloween they had dressed up as each other (John had even shaved for the occasion—their friends went crazy over that). Their fifth anniversary in Maui. The two of them posing with the red convertible Casey had surprised John with when he turned sixty—where they’d christened the front seat. And the minuscule back seat. And the hood.
“…until last year, when your partnership came to a sudden…and tragic…end.” Before the final image shone forth, John knew with cold certainty what it would be.
Casey’s obituary.
He felt the shape of it as its projected image covered his body—Casey’s last promotional headshot, smiling wide, blond and blue-eyed and devastatingly handsome. And the headline, Beloved Entertainer, “The Gentleman Magician” Casey Cornish, 64.
John’s name hadn’t appeared in the article. A few highlights of Casey’s career, a brief mention of the accident, the fact that he was survived by his mother, Irene Cornish, and donations to cover the expense of the cremation requested in lieu of flowers. What the obituary hadn’t said was that everything Casey had amassed in those sixty-four years of his—including the trip to Maui, the red convertible, and indeed the very townhouse where they lived—had never been paid for. Certainly, Casey had intended to settle his tab—someday. But he’d always presumed he had plenty of time to chip away at the debt, since undoubtedly, he would live forever. He was an optimist that way.
Quite the opposite of John.
John was aware, distantly, that the stage lights had come up. But the shock of seeing his life so crassly splayed across the stage and summarized in a few glib sentences had left him completely and utterly stunned.
“Professor Topaz?” Monty said quietly.
John forced himself to focus…and only then noticed the tension in Monty’s shoulders, and the fine lines of strain around the eyes. And that he’d clenched his own hands into fists. He took a deep breath and released them. His palms stung where his fingernails had dug in.
“Your friends tell us it’s high time for you to spread your wings and make your big comeback, and they’ve elected one of your oldest and dearest pals to come and wish you well…in person. Your agent, Dick Golding.”
Well. That explained where the photos had come from. Dick would never stop pestering John for that big gay memoir now.
John turned to watch Dick’s appearance stage left, and Monty added “…and your late partner’s mother, Irene!”
But….
John’s mind stalled on the very notion of seeing Casey’s mother—even as she appeared, with her ninety-year-old’s bursitis gait, waddling across the stage toward him on Dick’s arm.
I don’t even know what to call her.
Monty turned to Dick and said, “How does it feel watching the Professor on prime time TV?”
“I always knew he had it in him, Monty. He’s got star quality. Always had it.” He locked eyes with John. “You’re doing great, John. Keep it up. Hang in there.”
“Irene, what do you think Casey would say if he could see Professor Topaz now?”
There was a lag between the question and the answer, as there usually was with Mrs. Cornish. Her hearing was not what it had once been, and it took her a moment to piece together whatever she’d lip-read with the context and come up with an appropriate response. “My son would be dreaming up all the ways he could spend the quarter-million grand prize,” she declared loudly. The audience laughed; they thought she was joking.
Monty thanked them for coming, and then Dick stepped up for a handshake that turned into a hug while the audience applauded. And John supposed he would need to hug Mrs. Cornish too—though when he’d attempted it thirteen years prior, she’d stiffened up so badly he hadn’t tried it since. She felt a lot smaller now—but this time she actually leaned into his embrace and held him for a moment, and patted his back with a few good whomps. “Come by the house when you get a chance,” she said, no doubt thinking that speaking directly in John’s ear negated the fact that she was miked. “The yard looks terrible.”
___
Ricardo wasn’t sure who he thought Dick and Irene were as they waited together in the wings. John’s agent and Casey Cornish’s mother? Wouldn’t have occurred to him in a million years.
He was too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that John and Casey had been a couple! Of course Ricardo was familiar with Casey—the Gentleman Magician embodied a kind of dazzling flamboyance another gay magician could hardly miss. Ricardo should have figured out John’s passions ran deep, but John was so impenetrable, it took a hand down
the front of Ricardo’s pants for the attraction to register. And of course John hadn’t been single all this time just waiting for Ricardo to show up. But before he’d seen the photos, he would have found the notion of Casey and John together totally implausible.
There they were, though. Holding one another. Laughing.
What hit Ricardo the hardest was the knowledge that John’s smiles hadn’t always been mostly sad.
John, Dick and Irene exited stage right as the slide changed to an adorable blonde majorette, and Sue stepped out, dazzling in four-inch heels and a glittery silver gown with a plunging neckline.
“If you’re planning on making a move on her,” a voice behind Ricardo whispered, “think again.”
Ricardo swung around nearly expecting Kevin Kazan…though Kevin was in the front row. Plus the fake ebonics weren’t there. The guy behind him—decidedly Caucasian in his Brooks Brother suit—was most definitely not Kevin. “What are you talking about?” Ricardo said.
“Whoa, just kidding.” The guy shifted a dozen pale yellow roses to his left hand and presented his right for a handshake. “I’m Gary. Sue’s boyfriend.”
Ricardo shook Gary’s hand numbly. He was still reeling from the John-and-Casey revelation.
“You are gay,” Gary said. “Right?”
“What do you—? Yeah. So what?”
Gary wiped his brow in an exaggerated “phew” gesture. “You know how it is with magicians. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
Sue’s slideshow began, though of course, it wouldn’t span nearly as many years as John’s. She was barely twenty-three years old. There she was, adorable in a peanut costume. And jumping on a trampoline with her sister. And chubby-cheeked and pot-bellied in a pink leotard and ballet shoes.
“Every time your theme song comes on,” Gary said, “I have a good laugh.”
Magic Mansion Page 25
