True Magic

by Colin Sims

  “Ah, thanks!” The pop star smiled back. He looked profoundly uncomfortable, as if he’d been trying to sneak past but got caught.

  “Well hey, I gotta go,” he said abruptly. “Someone’s waiting for me.”

  “See you in the office next week,” Mr. Goodman said. He then added with a mock scolding, “Don’t be late.”

  “Ha! I wouldn’t dream of it. It was nice to see you all!”

  After he hurried out the door, Meagan’s dad retook his seat.

  “Hell of a guy,” he said with a nod. “A real worker. You know, François, you could learn a thing or two from a man like that.”

  After ordering we struck up a conversation about future goals. I—like an idiot—mentioned my Film Studies major, which drew a sharp rebuke from Mr. Goodman and a stony glare from Meagan. (I’m not sure why; it’s not like this was new information.)

  I was just beginning to wonder if Cassie had arrived yet, when I caught her grand entrance. It was one of those cinematic moments where my jaw literally fell open and I dropped my fork with a loud clatter on the hardwood floor.

  I’d only seen the succubus three times so far. The first time she was in pajamas and it was dark. The second two times, she was dressed casually in shorts and a tank top. This time, however, she wasn’t playing around. She wore a slinky, black cocktail dress with thin straps at the shoulders and a hem that didn’t quite make it halfway down her thighs. Her hair was done up, exposing a long neck and broad shoulders. And her smile … oh man. It was truly something else. And I won’t even try to describe all the other points of interest. I’ll end up sounding like a total sleazeball. All I’ll say is that I wasn’t the only one staring. The entire restaurant took notice. Patrons froze with forks hovering above their plates. Waiters bumped into each other. Busboys tripped and fell.

  Plus, she wasn’t alone. Some guy was on her arm. I recognized him, too. He was about my age and I’m pretty sure he was an actor on a TV show. Yet it was quite clear that next to Cassie, he was all but invisible. And short. In her heels, she towered over the guy. Somehow this made her even sexier.

  “What is wrong with you?” A voice asked to my left.

  Meagan.

  I spun around, guilty. “What? Oh, nothing. Will you excuse me a second? I’m gonna use the restroom.”

  I was out of the chair in a flash, and the next thing I knew I was splashing cold water on my face. I took a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I wanted Cassie. Like a lot. I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head.

  I blinked and splashed some more water. After I was done, I grabbed a paper towel. This whole thing was so wrong. I shouldn’t be thinking about another girl with my girlfriend right outside. Heck, I shouldn’t be thinking about Cassie at all. She was half succubus, which meant she was only half human.

  The Wikipedia article on succubi wasn’t pretty. They were demons that quite literally screwed men to death and dispatched their souls to Hell. Sure, they were beautiful and charming on the outside, but that was just part of their craft. Suckers like me didn’t stand a chance. And yet … did you see her in that dress?!

  I couldn’t go back out there yet. I stepped over to one of the urinals to buy myself some time. No sooner had I unzipped, than a man’s voice echoed through the empty room. “You’re a piece of work, Lemieux.”

  A second later, Mr. Goodman appeared beside me, shaking his head.

  “How’s it going, sir?” I asked.

  I knew from his tone he was about to be an even bigger jerk than usual. He always was when no one else was around. He stood there for a second, staring down until he got a stream going.

  “The thought of you with my daughter sickens me,” he said. “I want you to know that if you’re after my money, you won’t get a dime.”

  I frowned. “You know Meagan introduced herself to me, right? She asked me out, not the other way around.”

  “She’s trying to piss me off,” he said bitterly. “‘Daddy issues.’ Ha. What a bunch of crap.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You know why a star like Justin trusts me with his fortune, Lemieux? Because I’m a man. I make lots of money and I buy lots of shit. Good shit. Big house. Nice car. A fifty-foot yacht. You, on the other hand, are a pussy. When I see you talk, all I see is a big pussy flapping around. Film Studies? Go fuck yourself. What do you have to say about that, Lemieux?”

  “I’m also majoring in Finance,” I said.

  “Another pussy move,” he answered. “Hedging your bets like a frightened turtle. You think I got to where I am by playing it safe? Do you?”

  I finished and gave myself a little shake. “So you want me to drop the Finance major?”

  “I don’t want you to do a damn thing,” he said. “I want my daughter to come to her senses. You could fall off a cliff for all I care. In fact, I’d like to help you with that.”

  I zipped. “Well, Mr. Goodman, it’s always a pleasure.”

  “I bet it is,” he said, and followed me to the sinks.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I should take a swing at the guy, right? But that’s only because you don’t know Robert Goodman III like I do. He’s exactly the type of guy who would provoke somebody just so he could sic his pack of lawyers on them. I wasn’t about to do him the favor. Plus, it would probably destroy my relationship with Meagan.

  When we got back to the table Mr. Goodman was all smiles. He kissed his wife on the cheek and gave a little wink to his daughter. The food came shortly thereafter, and I did my best to seem pleasant. What struck me as particularly crappy was that I hardly said anything to my girlfriend. This was supposed to be our anniversary. But instead of talking to her, I spent the whole time auditioning in front of her parents.

  Meanwhile, at Cassie’s table, the world was a much brighter place. She was holding court, telling a funny story to a group of guys—all completely held in thrall. It made me miserable. And jealous. She was there, and I was stuck here. I felt like someone studying for a midterm while a party raged next door. She looked so light and genuine, wildly gesturing with her hands and smiling as new bouts of laughter burst from her companions.

  It was then that I realized Cassie Chu wasn’t just pretty. She was—for lack of a better word—cool. I know that sounds really “high school,” but it’s true. She was charismatic. She was fun. And that was what made her so beautiful. High cheekbones and a terrific figure only go so far. You have to have something behind all that to truly make it special. Cassie had that—whatever it was. Confidence? Joie de vivre? Who knows.

  “François? Hello?”

  Shoot. It was Meagan again.

  “You have the tickets, right?” she asked.

  The whole table was staring at me and I gulped. This is a nightmare that sits near the top of the list for every guy. It’s your anniversary. You’re going to a concert. You’re supposed to have tickets. You don’t have the tickets.

  It’s made even worse when it’s not just your girlfriend staring expectantly, but her disapproving parents as well. Now, in my defense, I’d had an extraordinary thirty-six hours. You can’t blame me for letting a few things slip. My problem was that I couldn’t explain anything about vampettes or wizards to my present company, so all I had was the ability to sit there like a total schmuck and say, “Uh, the tickets?”

  “Oh my God. You don’t have them, do you?”

  I noticed a gleeful glint in Mr. Goodman’s eye.

  “I can get them,” I said quickly. “They’ll be at Will Call. No problem.”

  “Are you kidding? The lines will be huge! You were supposed to get them yesterday!”

  Mr. Goodman’s look of delight hardened to one of pure hatred. “You better make this right, François. It’s my little girl’s anniversary for God’s sake!”

  “This is very disappointing,” Mrs. Goodman added.

  My shoulders slumped as Meagan fumed. “What did you even do yesterday?” she asked.

  I searched for an answer. The truth was that I
went to sleep. But that wouldn’t do.

  On a side note, I’d like to point out how incredibly deflating it is to fight with your girlfriend when her parents are sitting across from you. It’s the ultimate no win situation because even if you’re right, you’re still wrong. And in my case, I wasn’t even right. I’d screwed up and everyone knew it. Absently, I glanced over at Cassie’s table, but was startled to see no one there. Did she leave? With that guy?

  And that’s when I felt a light scratch on my shoulder. I turned and looked up to see Cassie smiling excitedly. “I knew that was you!” she said. “Oh my God, this is so crazy!”

  She had changed her tone slightly, sounding more like a teenager.

  My heart skipped a beat. I had no idea what she was up to, and quite honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. Still, I didn’t have much choice but to play along. “Ha, yeah,” I said. “How are you?”

  “François Lemieux!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I can’t believe it’s really you! Give me a hug!”

  I stood and nearly got a face full of boobs as I awkwardly put my arms around her. In those heels of hers, she must have been like 6’4”. My heart was pounding in my ears and my face was probably red as a turnip. When I sat back down, Cassie noted the questioning looks around the table.

  “François and I went to high school together,” she explained. “We haven’t seen each other in like,”—she looked at me—“what? Two years?”

  “Yep. Almost,” I said, then gulped and added, “Cassie, this is my girlfriend, Meagan.”

  Cassie leaned forward to shake her hand and one of her breasts—spilling from her dress—lightly pressed against my forehead. It produced an effect that made it difficult to keep my voice level.

  “And these are Meagan’s parents,” I said/squeaked. “Robert and Amanda Goodman.”

  Cassie gave them both a radiant smile. “Nice to meet you,” she said, and then focused on Mr. Goodman. “You, sir, look like a big shot movie person. I can tell. That’s a really nice suit, by the way.”

  I never thought I’d see the day, but Robert Goodman III blushed. “Oh no,” he chuckled. “Not me. I just handle all their money!”

  “Even better!”

  “François’s never mentioned you,” Meagan suddenly said. Her tone was noticeably icy.

  “Oh really?” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “We sort of used to have a thing together, but that’s all. Anyway, how did you two meet? Er, wait. You guys are eating, huh? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Nonsense!” Mr. Goodman said. “Cassie, was it? Why don’t you pull up another seat? I’m sure the restaurant won’t mind.”

  “Really?” she asked. “I don’t want to be a bother …”

  “Impossible.”

  Mr. Goodman had switched into friendly mode, which could only mean one thing—he thought he had a shot at getting Cassie out of that dress. If I didn’t think he was a scumbag before, now I really did. What was he, like fifty?

  “So, Cassie, do you live in LA?” Mr. Goodman asked once she’d pulled over an extra chair.

  “Nope,” she said. “I go to NYU.”

  “That’s a great school. What are you studying?”

  She giggled. “Acting.”

  “Well, you certainly have a star quality. Whenever you’re ready to get started, give me a call. I know people.”

  “Can we get back to the tickets please?” Meagan said.

  “Tickets?” Cassie asked.

  “For a concert tonight,” I explained. “I forgot to pick them up yesterday.”

  “François dropped the ball,” Mr. Goodman added. “It’s very disappointing.”

  Cassie looked at him and frowned. “I don’t think so,” she said. “And neither do you.”

  Her voice had quickly switched from playful and girly to flat and even. I recognized the tone and looked at her eyes. Sure enough, they were glowing purple.

  “It is not disappointing at all,” Mr. Goodman said with a shrug.

  “And you’re gross,” Cassie added.

  “I am gross,” he repeated.

  Meagan suddenly leaned forward, her mouth agape. “What did you just say to my father?”

  Cassie turned her eyes on her.

  “You don’t feel well and you need to go home early,” she said.

  I put up my hands. “Whoa,” I cautioned. “Don’t—”

  Cassie shushed me with a sideways look. “There is no concert tonight,” she continued. “And François is a great boyfriend.”

  “He really is,” Meagan agreed.

  I glanced at Mrs. Goodman and she seemed to be in a trance as well. “Cassie, are you crazy?” I whispered. “You can’t just hypnotize them.”

  “Of course I can, it’s easy,” she said. “Besides, why are you even hanging out with these people? The dad’s a total perv!”

  I glanced at Mr. Goodman who silently mouthed the words “total perv,” while staring blankly.

  “I’m not ‘hanging out’ with them,” I said. “These are Meagan’s parents.”

  Cassie looked at the pair of them and scrunched her face. “I don’t think Meagan likes you very much.”

  “Right now, I’m sure she doesn’t. Anyway, stop hypnotizing her. It’s not cool.”

  “Oh, come on!” she pleaded. “I need you to come with me to the Ghost Carnival. I promise it will be so much more fun than this.” She made a gesture toward the restaurant in general.

  “A what carnival?”

  “Ghost,” she said. “And it’s only open a couple more hours. We have to go soon.”

  I thought a moment. It was so wrong that Cassie had just entranced my girlfriend. I mean, where’s the line on something like that? If you can truly do the Jedi Mind Trick on anyone, isn’t that a little too much power?

  “We can’t just get up and leave,” I said.

  Cassie smiled and turned back to Meagan and her parents. She made them repeat a few more things—including something about Mr. Goodman toilet papering his own house before going to bed.

  “TPing?” I said. “Really?”

  Cassie shrugged. “I never got to have much of a childhood. You ready to go?”

  I took a final look at Meagan and her parents. “So, to them it will look like we disappeared and they won’t even care?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Cassie, we can’t do that. It’s wrong. I’m not sure why, but it is.”

  She frowned a moment in thought. “I guess it might be a little messed up,” she admitted. “But think about it like this: First of all, I was raised by a full succubus, so the fact that I’m not completely evil is a miracle. Secondly, everything we do is to protect people like them. Do you know how many dark sorcerers or death priests have tried to wipe out the whole planet in the past few years? It’s wizards like you, and friendly succubi like me, who stop them. And right now we have important stuff to do. In the grand scheme, a little enchantment isn’t so bad, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, still waffling.

  But the truth was I didn’t really have much of an argument. Besides, the prospect of getting the hell away from Meagan’s parents and this catastrophe of an anniversary held a certain appeal. I took a final look at my girlfriend. She was still hypnotized, but other than that, she looked fine. She probably wouldn’t even miss me. In fact, at this point, I knew she wouldn’t.

  Thus, a few minutes later, Cassie and I were going a hundred and twenty down the 10 toward Santa Monica—straight into an LA sunset.

  • • •

  By the time we reached the Santa Monica Pier—which is where the Ghost Carnival was apparently—it was mostly dark. After we parked, Cassie put on the parking break and told me to look away.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean look away,” she said. “I have to change.”

  She was still wearing the cocktail dress.

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Sure.”

  I shifted in my seat and looked out the wi
ndow.

  “It’ll just take a second,” she said, and I heard the distinct sound of a long zipper coming undone. Her seat reclined flat and there was a low rustle of fabric slowly slipping down her thighs.

  I thought about baseball.

  I’d heard that line used once before when I was a kid. It was in The Naked Gun, with Leslie Nielsen. Ever since—even though I’m not a baseball fan—I think of fly balls, line drives and home runs every time I’m in serious danger of embarrassing myself. I also leaned forward in my seat a little. Just in case.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  She giggled and I shut my eyes tight at the rustle of more fabric. From the way she was shifting around, I figured she was shimmying into a new pair of shorts. Or panties.

  Ball three, bottom of the 8th …

  Eventually, Cassie gave me the all clear. When I turned around, she was just pulling her top on. It was a cruel thing to do. I caught the briefest glimpse of side-boob before it was gone.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” she said. “You ready?”

  “I was born ready.”

  It was another warm, spring night as we made our way up the pier. And just in case you don’t know, Santa Monica Pier is a small theme park catering to tweens and tourists. It’s one of those LA landmarks, like the Walk of Fame or Madame Tussaud’s, that locals seldom visit. It has brightly lit carnival rides, a roller coaster, and the world’s only solar-powered Ferris wheel. (I guess it had batteries, though, since it was nighttime now.)

  We were readily approaching said Ferris wheel when I asked Cassie where the Ghost Carnival was.

  “Up there,” she said, pointing.

  I stopped. “You mean the Ferris wheel?”

  “The entrance is kind of tricky,” she explained, “but once it goes around a few times, we’ll be in the carnival. It’s magic stuff.”

  I took a heavy breath. Now was probably a bad time to explain I was afraid of heights.

  And don’t laugh at that either. We’ve all got certain things that freak us out. Some people are afraid of snakes. Some people are afraid of tall buildings.

  Anyway, I decided to pretend I was fine with it. My heart was beating up in my nose and I was breaking into a flop sweat, but I was fine with it. After all, the voice of Meagan’s dad still echoed in my ears. What did he call me again? A pussy? Screw that. I was going on that Ferris wheel if it killed me.