Escape Magic

by Michelle Garren Flye

  “What?” She took a sip of her coffee, cool and casual as if her heart weren’t skipping alternate beats.

  “Next time we’re using your place.” He stepped onto the stage and leaned over to kiss her. He drew away, a little smile playing on his lips. “You want to know why?”

  “Why?” She could still feel the warm pressure of his lips on hers.

  “Because at least you’ll have to wake me up to throw me out.”

  “You said next time.”

  “I did.” He met her gaze.

  “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

  He smiled, bringing her fingers to his lips. “This.” He dropped her hands and pulled her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers.

  Only after he’d released her did she realize she hadn’t thought to escape from him. Why wasn’t she running? Her heart was pounding, but she didn’t want to run away anymore. She didn’t want to escape from what he made her feel. She wanted to lean into his embrace, enjoy his caress.

  He stroked her hair away from her face. “Tell me why you ran away.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think thirty minutes is enough for that.”

  He laughed. “Fine.” He caught hold of her chin and looked in her eyes for a second. “Tell me about your dream, then.”

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.” It felt good to let even that small part of her reserve go. She nodded. “Okay, then.”

  He sat in Bess’s chair but she didn’t join him. Instead she paced to the edge of the stage and turned. “When I was little, I played hide-and-seek all the time with my brothers. I had two older brothers and they teased me and I wanted to keep up with them. So I got really inventive with the hiding places.” She paused, caught up for a minute in the past, almost as if she could see those children running past her in a golden flow of time. She shook it off. “I got really good. I was little and could squeeze into some pretty damn unexpected places. Like a box in the attic or a tiny space in a packed closet. I beat my brothers most of the time. They had to shout ‘olly olly oxen free’ just about every time.”

  Tony’s expression hadn’t changed. His eyes and attention were fixed on her. She gave him a little half-smile and continued. “My dad had an old toolbox downstairs in the basement. Nobody ever thought I could fit in that.”

  “But you did.”

  “I did. But I couldn’t get out and nobody thought to look for me in there. At least not after they’d already been in the basement twice looking for me and then when they yelled olly olly I couldn’t get out. I panicked and yelled but nobody heard me, and by the time my brothers told my parents they couldn’t find me, I’d already passed out. I still don’t know why my mother opened that toolbox. She said she thought I was dead at first.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “I only remember bits of it. The dark and cold and the helpless feeling that I couldn’t get out and I never would be able to.” She shrugged. “I guess it makes sense that I got into escapology after that, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He stood and walked toward her, taking her hand. “The addiction’s kind of like that. Like a dark, cold place that wants me to come back to it. Only it’s inside me. Hard to escape from.” He played with her hand, not looking at her. “Last night I was afraid I could fall back into that place.” He looked up, catching her gaze. “At first.”

  “At first?” Her voice trembled a little.

  “Yeah.” He smiled, twining his fingers with hers. “You. I told you I could get addicted to you. But I don’t think you’ll take me back to that place.”

  “Why not?” She couldn’t take her gaze from his face.

  “Because that’s not what it’s about with you. It’s not about losing myself or trapping you in a place you don’t want to be. It’s about finding us.” He raised the hand that wasn’t twined with hers to her face. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I think…” She searched her feelings, everything she’d felt since she’d left his bed that morning. The reluctance to move away from him as she’d slid from the sheets, the fear she’d never have such a night with anyone again, the joy when he’d appeared at the theater. She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

  “Good.” He grinned and raised the hand that held hers. To her surprise, she felt a silken tug on her wrist and glanced down. Somehow he’d tied one end of the scarf on her wrist and the other on his while they stood together. “Just remember. You can escape, but only if you want to.”

  She shook her head. “Jeez. Is this what it’s going to be like dating a magician?”

  He tsked. “No. I’m not a magician.” He kissed her again and waggled his eyebrows at her. “I just know all the tricks.”

  About the Author

  Michelle Garren Flye is the award-winning romance author of six novels. Reviewers have described her work as: “an engaging novel with charming and likable characters”, a story that “will make you believe in love and second chances”, and a “well-written and thought-provoking novel.”

  Michelle placed third in the Hyperink Romance Writing Contest for her short story “Life After”. Her short stories have been published by the romance anthology Foreign Affairs, Opium.com, SmokelongQuarterly.com and Flashquake.com. She has served on the editorial staffs of Horror Library Volume 1, Horror Library Volume 3, Butcher Shop Quartet, Butcher Shop Quartet II and Tattered Souls.

  Michelle has a Bachelor’s degree in Journalism and Mass Communication from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a Master’s degree in Library and Information Science from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. She is the mother of three and lives in North Carolina with her husband and their rapidly growing collection of pets.

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider posting a review on Amazon. I read all reviews and very much appreciate your comments.

  Connect with Michelle Garren Flye online:

  Website: http://michellegflye.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Michelle-Garren-Flye/132688623422175

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/michellegflye

  Want more?

  Praise for Michelle Garren Flye’s other novels…

  Close Up Magic

  “Michelle Garren Flye is a wizard with words, and I completely enjoyed her voice.”

  —Long and Short Reviews

  "An enchanting story that will make the reader believe in romance and magic!"

  —Jersey Girl Book Reviews

  “The threads of story and character were woven together…dare I say it…magically.”

  —Unabridged Andra

  Ducks in a Row

  “Michelle Garren Flye does not hesitate to tackle some pretty uncomfortable subjects in Ducks in a Row. This well-written and thought-provoking novel provides a realistic look into how two people who love one another can find themselves on the verge of losing everything…”

  — Book Reviews and More by Kathy

  Where the Heart Lies

  "A romance with heart, heat, and a big ambitious story covering miles of emotional terrain. You'll be swept away."

  — Ellen Meister, author of The Other Life

  "An ambitious and engrossing tale, full of complexities of both character and plot. Read this one on the beach, by the fire, in your bed… wherever. Just read it!"

  — Stephanie Stiles, author of Take It Like a Mom

  "...a brilliant stroke of amazing and entertaining story telling."

  — Smitten with Reading

  Winter Solstice

  “…outstanding characters, wonderful storyline, great dialog, and delicious humor that just adds flavor to the story.”

  — Booked Up Reviews

  “The love scenes were exquisite and beautifully done.”

  — The Romance Studio

  Secrets of the Lotus

  “A glorious, sweeping love story packed with surprises. Brava to Michelle Garren Flye on her splendid debut.”

  — Ellen Meister, author
of The Smart One

  “…a delightful story with a confident heroine who is not afraid to be herself … I found it difficult to tear myself away from this enchanting story.”

  — Single Titles

  “Michelle Garren Flye has successfully woven a modern day fairytale in her novel, Secrets of the Lotus.”

  — Book Martini Reviews

  And finally, a treat for those who missed the first installment of the series:

  Close Up Magic

  By Michelle Garren Flye

  Chapter One

  Stacey Matthewson plucked her smartphone from her pocket the moment the plane touched down, well before the pilot turned off the sign banning the use of electronic devices. It killed her to be out of touch, especially at a time like this. She hit the call button and said two words. “Tell me.”

  “Jeez, could that flight have been any longer?” Bella’s smartass young voice greeted her. “You’re gonna have to hoof it if you’re gonna make the show.”

  “Forget that. I’ll make it. Tell me you got me a ticket.” Stacey fought to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

  Her nineteen-year-old sister and part-time assistant made her listen to a sharp crack of bubblegum before she answered. “Of course I got you a ticket. It’s waiting for you.”

  Thank God. “Good. I guess you’re not fired.” She hit the end button before Bella could tell her she couldn’t fire her own sister. She was exhausted and exhilarated at the same moment. In an hour or so, she’d be in the same room with Andre Hawke.

  Stacey had met a lot of celebrities, most of them much further up the A-list than Andre Hawke was yet—possibly further than he ever would be. As a free-lance entertainment reporter, she’d written stories exposing the secrets of movie stars, capturing the worst moments of the idols who, in the end, proved themselves to be only human after all. Andre Hawke was small potatoes for someone like her, but she’d found her sources drying up after what she privately referred to as “the incident”—at least, when she allowed herself to think about it at all.

  I screwed up. I didn’t check my sources and I’m paying for it. She winced at the memory, and, not for the first time, wondered how she’d ever even gotten into this aspect of reporting. Her college professors had expected great things of her. They probably wouldn’t be thrilled to know she’d degenerated into a bloodhound looking to shake down the latest celebrity to fall off a wagon.

  Stacey straightened her spine, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped seat and reminding herself she’d made a good living off the sensationalist reporting, at least until recently. And what other choice would have allowed her to support herself and her little sister for the past few years? What really sucked was that after so many years knocking other people’s idols off their pedestals, she finally had to do the same thing to someone she admired.

  She thumbed through the web pages she’d bookmarked on her smartphone. Hawke was an up-and-coming magician, a definite rising star on the horizon of celebrity. Fortunately for her, he wasn’t there yet, so the scandal that had rocked his little camp right after his first big appearance in Las Vegas hadn’t reached most reporters in the industry. Which meant she had the opportunity to write the story and get it out there before anyone else caught on.

  She paused on a picture of Hawke and felt another tinge of regret that it had to be him. She’d actually seen one of his magic shows at a tiny theater in New York and had followed his career with interest since. He had it all: he was good-looking, skilled, and had an air of sincerity that sort of made you not even mind being the victim of his act.

  She didn’t have time for regret, though. She clicked her phone off and stuck it into her pocket, reaching for the only bag she’d brought—a little overnight bag small enough to fit under the seat in front of her. Her purse was large enough to accommodate her laptop, so she didn’t have to wait for baggage claim. As soon as the pilot clicked off the fasten seatbelts sign and the crew opened the door, she’d be out and hopefully arrive in time to catch Andre Hawke before the show. Just because no one else had picked up the story yet didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.

  She banished the last of her guilty feelings. It’s not like I’m the president of his fan club or anything. And Andre Hawke is a big boy. He can handle a little press. Even my kind.

  Andre Hawke studied his reflection in the mirror. The lean, handsome face that looked back reminded him of the few memories he had of his father. He still had a hard time associating that reflection with himself, although the thick, curly dark hair and deep blue (some women said almost violet) eyes had always been his, even when he’d been a dorky kid. He smiled and the reflection smiled back, white teeth flashing. His brother had suggested the teeth-whitening. The thought of Tony made the smile fade.

  Andre turned from the mirror, reaching for the leather jacket he wore instead of a cape when he was onstage. Softened by time, the jacket had belonged to his father. One of the things he’d left behind and Andre had adopted as a prop, a reminder of the family whose history was half true, half part of the act.

  On cue, his cell phone rang and he punched the button. “Hey Mom.”

  “How’d you know it was me?” His mother’s lazy southern accent made him smile.

  “Who else would call me right before a show?” He picked up a white tipped cane, studying it with amused interest before tossing it aside. The producer had left several artificial-looking magic props laying around in the hopes Andre would choose to adopt some of them, but Andre had no interest in stereotypes. He wanted nothing to do with what people would expect. He reached for his Oakley sunglasses and imagined his mother sitting on the front porch of the little home where he’d grown up. Were the crickets still singing? Was it really October? He’d lost track of the seasons since he’d been in the Nevada desert, where the weather was hot and dry, just as it had been two months before, although maybe not quite as hot now as it had been early in the summer.

  “Andy, you know I wouldn’t do anything to mess you up. I just wanted you to know how much we all love you. We’re proud of you, son. Really proud.” She fell silent for a moment and he closed his eyes, knowing what would come next. “Your brother’s really sorry, you know.”

  “I know.” Andre tried not to sound too bitter. Tony’s antics had put him in a bad spot financially, although he’d been able to work it out professionally. What really hurt was the betrayal by the brother he’d always thought he could count on. After all, they’d only had each other and their mother after their father left them as children. He sighed. “His timing leaves a little to be desired. Just make sure he stays in the program.”

  “I know you’re hurt, son, but try to look at it from his point of view. You’ve always been the success of our family…don’t interrupt!”

  Andre shut his mouth, which had opened to protest automatically. He frowned at the phone. How did she always know? “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Of course you weren’t. What I was saying is that Tony’s always felt he had to live up to you. You’ve got to give him a break this time. He failed. He’s sorry.”

  “And when he’s better, we’ll move on.” Andre took a deep breath, then covered the phone with one hand and exercised some of the same misdirection he used in his act. “I know I have to be on stage in thirty, Sara. There’s plenty of time.” He uncovered the phone. “Sorry, Mom. They employ overachievers exclusively here.”

  “It’s okay, honey. I know you’re busy. I just wanted you to know we’re thinking about you tonight. We’re right there with you.”

  “Yeah.” For a moment, he wished it were really true. Or maybe he wished he could just pack everything up and go home. Maybe he envied his brother for giving in to his weakness, something Andre had never allowed himself to do. “I love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, baby.” The click of the line sounded strangely emptier than usual.

  He stood for a second in the empty dressing room. Any moment it would fill up with assistants and stagehands se
eking last minute direction. He’d never thought about the complications of losing his agent during his first big show. A six-month run at a large—if rundown—casino/resort on the Las Vegas strip was the stuff dreams were made of if you were an up-and-coming magician. It was the last thing Tony had pulled off before he got drunk and gambled away the advance. All of it. Not just his share. Andre had had to deplete his own savings to pay his few employees and Tony’s extended stay in the rehab facility had zeroed it out. Andre was broke until the ticket sales surpassed the advance and his crew’s expenses.

  Damn it. Andre turned grimly, feeling like a caged animal. The loss of the money didn’t hurt half as much as the loss of the one person he’d always thought he could rely on. He’d trusted Tony. Goddamn him. From the day they’d left their mother’s tiny home in Bath, N.C., Tony had busted his ass to get Andre through the days of busking on the streets of New York and table-hopping at little cafes. He’d gotten Andre’s first real gig at a tiny theater in New York and from there the theaters had gotten bigger, the audiences more enthusiastic. And it all had led to this engagement in Las Vegas. Tony should be here.

  He shook off the lingering regret. He had Bobby to take care of the day-to-day stuff and the show revenue would soon be enough to tide them over if they kept selling out. The one thing he didn’t have was a public relations person. Neither Bobby nor Mattie had the expertise to handle press, and he was beginning to feel the need for one urgently. He needed to take his time, find somebody he could trust, but he knew it was only a matter of time now before the vultures of journalism smelled decay and swooped in on him to get at the bones of the story about his brother.