Sleight of Hand

by Natasha Deen

“Get out. You’re stinking up the room.”

  He rolls his eyes and leaves.

  His visit made me feel better. But in five minutes the anxiety and the worry are back. I wish I could talk to my friends, but instinct says to stay away. Mary’s shown her hand. I bet she’ll be watching, looking for a reason to report me. How am I going to get out of this?

  Chapter Seven

  I’m not thrilled when Sammy wakes me up at 8:00 am, but he does it only to annoy me. What doesn’t annoy me is him talking about magic.

  Sammy’s a talker, and he likes people. When we moved to Canada, he was the first one to get the language. Not me. I’ve gotten used to the fact that he almost never shuts up. In a weird way, it’s comforting. A sign that everything’s okay. So when he keeps a running patter of what we’ll do at the shop, I’m good with it. Especially since it distracts me from my problem with Kevin.

  Mom offers to drive us to the store, but that’s just more time with her. More chance for conversations I don’t want and having to fake emotions I don’t have. I opt for the CTrain and take Sammy to Anderson station. It’s almost an hour’s ride to the store, and the sound of the train on the rails is white noise. Any silence is broken by Sammy and his plans for what we’ll do at the shop.

  The Vanishing Rabbit is small, but there’s enough stuff packed in the space to keep him busy for the morning. Sammy loves to teach, and I’m happy to listen, ooh and ahh at the right places and help him decide what to buy. It’s all fine until a woman walks in.

  It takes me a minute to figure out why I know her. Then I realize. It’s the cop. Anna. No. Andrea. The one who seems to live at Mary’s office. She’s got her hair down, and she’s wearing makeup.

  Why is she here? Calgary’s a big city—over a million people. The odds of us running into each other are small. Less than small. I remember what Kevin said about his crew reaching everywhere. And how I don’t know who all the members are. There can only be one conclusion. She’s here to intimidate me.

  A man enters the store. He’s brown like me, and he heads straight for Andrea. She smiles as he touches her arm, then reaches up and kisses him.

  Okay, maybe she’s not here for me.

  Then again…

  “You okay?”

  I jerk back as Sammy’s voice cuts through my confusion. “What?”

  “You look sick. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  He squints at me. “Sure? You look like that time you had too much mulligatawny soup and spent the night puking in the bathroom.”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “We can go home.”

  I hate Mary. I hate Kevin. I hate what they’re doing to me. “That won’t change how I feel,” I tell him. “Truth is, it’s you. You make me sick.” I lean in and sniff his hair. “You smell like wet cheese.”

  “That’s not what your girlfriend said,” he cracks.

  I laugh, surprised at the joke. The back-and-forth catches Andrea’s attention. I see her gaze alight on me. Then she’s heading my way.

  “Javvan.” She smiles at Sammy, who smiles back. “Hi, I’m Andrea.”

  “Sammy.” He jerks his thumb in my direction. “His babysitter.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Tell me he’s toilet trained.”

  Sammy shrugs. “Most of the time.”

  “Thanks, Mary Poppins.” I nudge him in the side to shut him up. Then I turn to Andrea. “What are you doing here?”

  “Gift for my niece. She’s a big magic fan.” Once again she turns to Sammy. “She’s about eight and just getting started. Any recommendations?”

  His face lights up at her asking him for advice.

  “Wait a second,” I say. “How do you know we’re here for him?”

  Sammy rolls his eyes. “Come on, dude. You need brains for magic. Anyone who’s met you knows magic is out of your league.” He’s on the road to impress and adds, “This guy. He needs to study for a blood test.”

  “Hey!” He’s trash-talking me with my own trash. That’s the same line I used on him last month.

  But he and Andrea are high-fiving each other. And just like that, he’s made her part of his team. It counts for something. Sammy’s got good bs radar. If she wasn’t a good person, he would know.

  I want to trust her, to believe she would help me. This whole thing makes me feel like I’m drowning and need help getting out of the water. But whether she’s a lifeline or a cement boot, I can’t tell. And I can’t risk that she’s part of Kevin’s crew.

  I stay apart from them. When Sammy starts showing them something called a Spider Pen, Andrea breaks away and comes to me. “Weird that we’re both here,” I say. “What are the odds of it?”

  “Not really that weird.” She picks up a deck of cards, squints at it. “There’s only a handful of magic shops in Calgary.” She turns her squint to me. “What’s weird is your tone in asking the question.”

  My skin flashes cold. “I don’t have tone.”

  She’s all cop now. Stone face, laser gaze. “Yeah, you do. What’s going on?” Stupid. I’m so stupid. With Dwayne. With Kevin. Now her. If she’s part of the ring, I’m toast. If she’s not, I’m still toast. Andrea’s got a look in her eyes like she’s not going to let it go. I don’t trust my voice, so I just shrug.

  Her lips go thin. “You in trouble again?”

  The again is a bullet that tears into me. And in a heartbeat, I know I can’t ask for help. It’s the memory of my parents at the police station. Even if I ask Andrea for help, she’ll have to bring in other people. There’ll be an investigation. I can just imagine the look on my father’s face. Another disappointment. I can’t even make amends properly. And what about the investigation? My word against a probation officer’s and a business owner’s. Who’s going to believe me?

  I stay quiet.

  Chapter Eight

  Monday at work, and Kevin is everywhere I go. The worst part is how he makes it look so natural. Just a boss checking up on his employee, a mentor making sure his young employee stays on the straight and narrow.

  I even take a job helping one of the guys shingle a roof just to get space from Kevin. Doesn’t work. Around lunchtime, he climbs the ladder and “asks” if I’d like to help him do the lunch run.

  What can I say? I toss my stuff in a pile and climb down after him.

  We get in the truck, and he talks nonstop. Sports. Celebrities. All unimportant. All to show me he’s got so much power he doesn’t have to talk about anything that matters.

  I wish I could get mad. Rage could be my doorway to actually doing something. But I can’t get past the fear. I can’t find my righteous indignation. Kevin pulls up to a Greek restaurant, and we join the lineup. He takes off for the washroom, and I hold our place. There’s nothing to do, so I scan the restaurant and see Mrs. O’Toole. The bike-courier lady.

  It’s a long shot, but I wonder if I could talk her into hiring me, giving me a chance. Maybe. I ask the guy behind me to hold my place, then book it over to her.

  “Mrs. O’Toole.”

  She looks up from her gyro. When she sees me, her expression makes me take a step back. I’d expected hesitation or maybe wariness. Irritation for sure—after all, I am interrupting her meal. But none of those emotions are in her eyes.

  All I see is contempt.

  “Yes?” She spits the question.

  I’m confused. Last time I saw her she wasn’t impressed with me, but she didn’t despise me either. Now it’s different. The look on her face is the same one Dwayne the Dick had when he challenged me to steal the car. Like I am nothing. Like I am less than nothing.

  She shifts away from me. Pulls her purse closer to her body.

  Right. Because having a record suddenly means I’m liable to do all kinds of things. Like rob some woman in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

  “What do you want?”

  “To tell you I got a job.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Her upper li
p curls for a second. “How wonderful for you.”

  Her tone implies the opposite.

  I’m confused and angry. What’s with the attitude? But it seems stupid to pick a fight here. Besides, Kevin will be back soon, and the last thing I need is for him to see me talking with Mrs. O’Toole.

  There’s nothing else to do, so I turn to walk away. Then I stop and spin back to her. “You’re a smart lady, Mrs. O’Toole.”

  She frowns.

  “I’d think you’d know the difference between screwing up and being a screwup. I’m one, not the other.” I walk away before she can answer.

  I’m back in line when Kevin returns from the washroom. He scowls at the fact that I’m still not at the cashier. “What’s taking so long?”

  I shrug. Then I have to get away. The room is suddenly smaller, hotter. My stomach’s rolling at the smell of onions and lamb. “Be back in a sec.”

  He grabs my upper arm as I move away. “Where’re you going?”

  “Bathroom. Geez.” I pull out of his grip. “A little late to worry about leaving me unattended, don’t you think?”

  He has no answer, and I walk away. From the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. O’Toole watching us. There’s something about her posture that jacks my interest. I go toward the bathroom, but instead of going in I do a five count, then peer around the corner. Sure enough, she’s making her way over to Kevin. The crowd is my cover as I sneak back to them. I hover in the background and eavesdrop.

  “—you made the right decision?”

  I frown, certain Mrs. O’Toole isn’t questioning Kevin’s decision to have Greek for lunch.

  “These kids need a second chance,” says Kevin. “That’s what I’m giving him.”

  “I’m not arguing that,” she answers. “But in his case, I think you’re making a terrible decision.”

  “Javvan? No. He’s a good kid. Just made a bad choice.”

  “That’s what I thought too, until I talked to his probation officer.”

  My insides turn to ice.

  “She said Javvan’s the kind of kid who’ll only break his mother’s heart. She said it’s just a matter of time before he ends up back in the system. That any attempt to rehabilitate him is just a waste.”

  She said. The words are clanging in my ears, drowning out all the noise of the crowd, the sizzle of meat on the grill.

  “I’m not here to tell you how to run your business or who to hire,” she says, “but reconsider what you’re doing.”

  “I thought about it, trust me.” Kevin’s words are smooth, and I hear the smile in his voice. “And believe me, I took Mary’s words into account. But I have to believe these kids can change. Javvan’s been a good kid. Works hard, shows up on time, pitches in.” He steps toward her. “I’ve lent him the truck to do food and supply runs, gotten him to pick up checks from clients. He’s never let me down.”

  I can almost hear the clang of the jail door slamming shut. It’s a beautiful setup. He’s painted himself as the good guy. If anything goes wrong, I’m the one who’ll come off as deceitful and manipulative, not him. It’ll be me who abused his trust, played the mind games. He’ll be the regretful adult who tried to give some kid a second chance and got burned.

  Mrs. O’Toole shakes her head. “I hope you’re right.”

  Kevin turns sober. “Yeah.” he says, “Me too.”

  And in that moment, I find the thing I’ve been looking for. My anger.

  Chapter Nine

  All this time, I’d thought I couldn’t get a job because of my record. And for sure, my conviction played a role in it. But Mary hooped me. She bad-mouthed me to potential employers, and why? To get me to work with Kevin.

  They need good kids who’ve made dumb mistakes. Kevin said he wanted my type for the ring because we wouldn’t be involved for long. What a load. He wants kids like me because we give him plausible deniability.

  If he used some cranked-up kid who was always in trouble with the law, when things went wrong Kevin would look like the idiot. “How could you not have seen it?” people would ask. But—but—when he uses a first offender from a relatively good background, he looks like a saint. The kid looks like the sinner.

  Kevin and I get to the front of the line, put in our order and collect the food. When we’re back in the truck, I ask, “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Picking up food for my employees? Since forever.”

  “No. The other stuff.”

  He shoots me an amused smile as he eases the truck from the parking spot and onto the road. “What other stuff?”

  I figure he’s playing coy. Two can play. “Your business.”

  Another amused smile. “You got your phone on Record?”

  I shake my head. “You’re too smart for that.”

  The corner of his mouth pulls up. “You’re right about that.”

  “So? How long?”

  We’re at a red light, and he holds out his hand. “Phone.”

  I shrug. “I’m not the liar.” I hand him the phone. “You are.”

  He takes the phone, glances down and shuts it off. Then he reaches into the center console, pulls out a small black box and aims it at me. When nothing happens, he says, “Just checking.”

  “Thought I was wearing a wire?”

  “Or a second phone.” He shoves the device into the console. The light goes green, and he turns his attention back to the road. “Can’t be too careful.”

  “Told you, I’m not the liar.”

  “No. You’re just the moron who took the bait from a racist and jacked a car.”

  I hide my anger and say, “Can’t argue that. Back to the original question. How long have you been in business?”

  “Why do you care?”

  I don’t—not really. But I don’t have a real plan on how to get him. Yet. I figure getting him talking and doing it with no agenda—no recording device, no tricks to get him to confess—will mess with him a little. Maybe it will also downgrade me in his eyes. If he thinks I’m dumber than I look, maybe he’ll give me the foothold I need. Anyway, it can’t be too bad an idea to get some background. Who knows when it’ll come in handy?

  “I care because you screwed me over,” I say. “And you did it like I was a chump.”

  “You are a chump. Eager to prove yourself to those around you, eager to please the people in your life. That’s why you got into trouble in the first place, right? If you hadn’t cared about that numb-nuts, you wouldn’t have taken his stupid bait and fallen into his trap.” Kevin snorts. “In the grand scheme of things that moron didn’t even matter, but you cared, and look where it’s gotten you.”

  The truth hurts, and coming from this guy, it stings.

  “You gotta look out for number one,” says Kevin. “Or else you’ll never be anything but a loser.”

  I want to point out the irony of his calling me a loser. But it’ll put him on alert, remind him I have brains in my head.

  “Look.” His tone is comforting, and it makes my skin itch. “This isn’t forever. You do your stint with me, Mary clears your probation, and you’re done.”

  Bull. No way these clowns let you off once they have their hooks in you. “Wish I could believe that.”

  “You see any twentysomething-yearold dropouts working for me?”

  “No,” I say as my brain does the math. If he’s talking about guys in their mid-twenties, then he’s been doing this for five to ten years. Okay. My mind goes dead on what to do with this information.

  If Tiffany were here, she’d know exactly what to do. She loves mysteries and tech crap. She’d get all my friends together and pull off some kind of sting. Except she’s not here.

  But my friends are.

  The tightness in my chest loosens. Right now, Kevin and Mary need me. Which means I’ve got a little room to wiggle. If I’m smart about it, maybe I can connect with my buddies, get some help on this. I lean back, look out the windshield and start the countdown for the end of the day.

 
; As soon as work’s done, I get out of there. I head to Shaw Millennium Park. It’s our place to hang during summer. The skate park’s crowded. I feel a rush at the sound of wheels on concrete and the cheers and jeers of the boarders. I miss my crew, miss catching air and carving. Miss nailing a trick. Miss feeling normal.

  I scan the crowd for my buddies. Smile when I see Wheezer’s fauxhawk. Just as I’m heading over, my phone rings. I pull it out, figuring it’s Mom. “Yeah?”

  “Javvan. Where are you?”

  I freeze at the sound of Mary’s voice. “What do you want? It’s not time for my check-in.”

  “It’s always time for your check-in.” She pauses. “Where are you?”

  “Downtown.”

  “Where downtown?”

  “West side?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be at the skate park, would you?”

  My throat’s immobile. I can’t make a sound. For a mad second I think she’s followed me. Then I realize she can probably hear the noise of the park. I find my voice again. “I’m walking by it. Heading to Eau Claire Market.”

  “That’s a half-hour walk,” she says. “Why didn’t you take the bus directly there?”

  “I meant to, but I guess it’s force of habit—got off at the wrong stop.” I stop myself before I start babbling. Liars always talk too much.

  “Watch your habits,” she says. “I’d hate to see them lead you down the wrong path.”

  I flip the phone shut. Consider my options. Right now, there aren’t any. It was stupid to answer the phone, but that’s what happens when your dad won’t spring for caller id. But his decision has screwed me up. I can’t risk asking my buddies for help. Mary’s onto me, which means I must have tweaked Kevin’s radar in the truck. Doubly stupid.

  I catch sight of Wheezer. He’s watching me. He lifts his hand in salute. I wave back, then keep walking.

  Chapter Ten

  I walk in the door and immediately feel the tension. Dad’s got the newspaper up, covering his face. Mom’s facing the stove. The scene is like always, but this time there’s a brittle silence.