Текст книги "Six of Hearts"
Автор книги: L. H. Cosway
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
The next day at work is another slow one. Dad comes in and out of his office several times to check the appointment list. It’s still just as empty as it was the last four times he checked.
“Things will pick up,” I try to reassure him, but he doesn’t look reassured.
I take a long lunch and go sit in the park to eat my sandwich. Since I managed to get my new sewing machine with Jay’s help, I no longer have to save up and can afford the nice sandwiches from the deli, rather than bringing a packed lunch. Although, from the way our appointment numbers have gone down, I’ll probably be back to saving again pretty soon.
There must be some way to help boost the business, I think to myself.
When I get back to the office, I spend some time researching online advertising and exploring ways in which Dad could branch out. I bookmark a couple of ideas and then shut down my computer for the day.
As I walk to the bus stop, I notice a weird stencil on the pavement. It looks like it’s been done with some sort of chalky substance. There’s a big red heart, inside of which is the number six. Inside the hole in the six is one of those QR codes. It instantly reminds me of Jay’s picture in the newspaper, where he’d been holding a six of hearts. He’d also left that exact card on my phone when he’d made it miraculously disappear and then appear.
Pulling said phone out of my handbag, I scan the code and wait to see what happens. A slick website pops up, all done in black and electric blue. An image of a man on a stage makes up the background. His back is turned to the audience, his arms spread out like an eagle. It takes a second for me to realise it’s Jay, because he’s topless and I haven’t seen him topless before. His tattoos dance along his skin, looking almost alive. Beneath the image are just a few lines.
July 26th, 8 p.m.
The Paint Cellar,
Temple Bar,
Dublin 2.
And that’s all there is, just one page, no other info at all. I hurry to the bus now, eager to get home and question Jay about the mysterious website. What’s going to happen on that date and at that location?
My pores tingle with excitement.
Ten
At home I find Jay in the kitchen with Jessie. He’s writing furiously into an old moleskin notepad, while Jessie listens to music on a pair of ultra-hip headphones, bobbing her head to the beat. What catches my attention most of all, though, is the cage that’s been placed by the window containing two beautiful white doves.
“Oh, my God, they’re so pretty,” I exclaim, going over to get a better look.
Jay puts down his pen, stands up, and walks toward me. “You like my girls, huh?” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
“I really do. Are they yours?”
“Yep. Jessie was keeping them for me at her place.”
“What are their names?”
“This one’s Ellen,” says Jay, pointing to the one on the left. “And this one’s Portia. If you haven’t already guessed, I let Jessie name them. She thinks it’s funny.”
“Ah. But how can you tell them apart? They both look identical to me.”
“They’ve got different personalities. Ellen’s the chatty one. Portia’s the sleepy one.”
“I see,” I reply before continuing excitedly, “Are you going to be keeping them here from now on?”
“Sure am.” He smiles indulgently, his face close to mine.
“I’m so happy! I haven’t had a pet since my cat died.”
Jay starts rubbing my shoulder now, the friendly gesture causing a little more than a friendly reaction in me. I want him to slip his hand beneath the fabric and touch me skin on skin. We watch the birds for a minute or two, and then I remember what I really wanted to talk to him about, so I pull my phone from my bag. Bringing up the website again, I show it to him.
“So, uh, what’s this all about?”
Jay stands back and rubs a hand along his stubble, grinning. “Ah, you saw that, did you? I should have guessed my little Watson would want to solve the mystery.”
My little Watson. Yeah, I think I like the sound of that.
“So, come on, don’t leave me in anticipation,” I prompt.
Jessie pulls off her headphones. “Hey, Matilda,” she says, giving me a casual nod. I quickly say hello back before returning my attention to Jay.
“I’m doing a show this Friday. What you saw was an advertisement. Jessie and I spent the whole morning spray-chalking the stencils all around the city.”
I go to the fridge and open it up to see what’s for dinner. Surprisingly, it’s stocked full of food. Jay must have gone shopping. That was nice of him. “That’s a really cool idea, but do you think it will be effective? Most people might think it’s just street art.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” says Jay. “People love shit that’s all obscure and mysterious. They’ll go just to see what it’s all about. Though my fans will know it’s me the second they see the symbol.”
“If you build it, they will come,” says Jessie, sitting cross-legged on her seat like Buddha. She sounds mildly stoned, but I think that’s just her way.
“Okay.” Jay laughs.
“What does that symbol mean, anyway?” I ask.
“Ah, now, that would be telling.”
“So many secrets,” I tease, pulling some chicken and a few vegetables out of the fridge. “You’re like a naughty husband who’s having an affair.”
Jay grabs a carrot out of my hand and takes a big bite. He stares at me as he chews, swallows. With a wink, he says, “I’m not the cheating kind, but I sure can be naughty.”
Well, I don’t doubt that. Turning away, I start preparing my chicken stir-fry, making enough for everyone, including Dad, who should be home any minute.
“So,” I begin casually, “am I invited to this show? Or is it too exclusive for the likes of me?”
“Of course not, Watson! You’re going to be my guest of honour,” Jay exclaims, all boisterous.
I laugh and shake my head before replying jokingly, “Look, Jay, I’m know I’m the image of Emma Watson and everything, but you don’t have to keep going on about it.”
I place a cover over the stir-fry to let it simmer. When I turn around, he’s right in front of me, studying my face for what feels like forever. “Nah, you’re more like a brunette Scarlett Johansson,” he murmurs low, penning me in.
I harrumph. “Sure, if she had a facial disfigurement.”
His hand comes up to cup the side of my face and part of my neck, where my scar lines my skin. My breathing hitches at his warm touch. God, how long has it been since I’ve been touched like this? Have I ever been touched like this? He levels his eyes on me seriously, his thumb brushing back and forth, as he murmurs, “Because this makes you so unappealing.”
I don’t have to be a genius to tell he’s being sarcastic. Wow. This is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he’s mentioned my appeal. Should I start getting my hopes up?
Jessie makes quick work of ruining the moment by making a little vomiting sound. “Ugh, you two need to get a room,” she says before putting her headphones back on.
Jay tugs on my hand and leads me out to the back garden, where the sun is shining down warmly. “I created a magic trick just for you. I think I have it perfected.”
“For me? Seriously?” I ask in delight. He hands me what looks like a small beige chicken’s egg, placing it in my upturned palm.
“It’s an egg,” I say, stating the obvious.
Jay nods. “Just keep watching.” He passes his hand over it once, and it starts to crack, like maybe there’s a tiny chick inside. Then he passes his hand over the top of it again, and it cracks completely open. I gasp with surprise as five gorgeous red and black butterflies with white spots practically explode from the shell, their wings flapping through the air. They flutter all around me, and my heart lifts when one of them comes to sit on my shoulder.
“Oh, wow,” I whisper, smiling like crazy and trying my hardest not to move. Another comes and sits on my hand, tickling me and making me giggle.
When I look at Jay, his eyes are shining bright under the sun as he soaks up my reaction, his mouth curving ever so slightly at the edges. I’m not even going to ask him how he did it. I’m locked in his spell, and I don’t want to break it.
“That was amazing,” I say to him when the butterflies have all finally flown away.
Stepping closer, he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Look at those eyes, so full of wonder. I love your reactions. They make me feel like I can reclaim the childhood I never had.”
His heartfelt words make my throat tighten with empathy. I feel like hugging him, but I can’t. It would be…too much.
Just then I hear Dad come in the front door, and I stumble back, hurrying to the kitchen. Jay follows me. When I step inside, Dad’s already saying hello to Jessie, who introduces herself as a friend of Jay’s. I dish up a plate of stir-fry for everyone, and we sit down to eat at the table, chatting about light topics.
After dinner Dad excuses himself to his room, where he plans to start reading the novel they’re discussing in his book club this month. Jay suggests the rest of us watch a movie in the living room. I go to change out of my work clothes while he and Jessie decide on a DVD.
When I come back down, they’ve selected a romantic comedy called Away We Go that I bought a couple of years ago when it first came out. I can’t remember it all too well, but I do recall it being about a couple who are expecting a baby. An odd choice for these two, but I go with it anyway.
Jessie is camped out on the armchair, so I sit next to Jay on the sofa, a nice safe distance between us. I hug a cushion to my chest as Jay presses “play” on the DVD. The film starts off with a quiet night time scene, and I relax into my seat. Unfortunately, my relaxation lasts about five seconds before I realise that the first scene is a sex scene. A scene where the man is going down on the woman, to be precise. Immediately, I can feel my cheeks heat up, even though it’s supposed to be kind of funny.
“Oh, now look at this,” says Jessie, pointing at the screen. “He’s doing it all wrong. He needs to take a few tips from me. I’m the queen of cunnilingus.”
Jay cocks an eyebrow at her and smirks, his arm resting behind me along the top of the couch. “I’d wager I’m better,” he says in a low, challenging voice.
Jessie snorts long and loud. “You wanna bet? I’d win hands down.”
Christ, could this conversation end, please?
“Okay, how are we going to play this? We need a judge,” says Jay, laughing, and I really hope he’s joking.
Jessie waggles her brow at me. “You want the position, Matilda?”
I practically choke on a cough. “I think I’ll have to decline.”
“Scared?” Jay asks, tilting his head to me with a wicked grin.
I get defensive. “No, I’m not scared. Besides, you need experience to be a judge….”
Oh, God, did I just say that? Where the hell is my filter?
“What?” Jessie spurts, practically jumping out of her seat. Suddenly, I’m regretting agreeing to watch a movie with these two. “Please tell me you’re joking!”
My face has become so red I might as well be a tomato. “Forget I said anything,” I mutter.
“Oh, my God, you’re not joking, are you?” she goes on.
I make the mistake of glancing at Jay, and his gaze is on fire. I play with the hem of my top and sigh. “No. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and, well, let’s just say he was kind of selfish in that department.”
“Asshole,” says Jay.
“Yeah, he was. So, no, I’ve no experience of that particular…act.”
“That’s a fucking travesty, hon. All girls need to get their vaginas licked. It’s like a rite of passage,” Jessie tells me with no embarrassment whatsoever.
I make a move to leave, but Jay grabs my wrist and pulls me back down, turning to face me properly. His eyes flick to Jessie as he warns sharply, “You don’t have to talk like that to her.”
“She’s not a child, Jay.”
“She’s not one of your fuck buddies, either, so try and keep it clean, yeah?”
I pull my wrist from his hold. “She can talk to me whatever way she likes. I just wish we could watch the film and stop discussing my sex life, or lack thereof.”
He raises his hands in the air. “Fine. Let’s watch it, then.”
There’s a couple of minutes of awkwardness before we all get into the storyline. In the end, it actually turns out to be really enjoyable, that uncomfortable first scene aside. Jessie leaves once it’s over, and I go to my room. I can hear Jay in his own room as I’m getting my clothes ready for work in the morning. It sounds like he’s pacing. A minute later, there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I call, and Jay appears, stepping inside but leaving the door open behind him. Oh, yeah, and did I forget to mention that he’s topless? Topless! My eyes wander over his tattoos as I admire a particularly detailed one right over his heart. It looks a like a cubist painting, a box filled with triangles of all different colours. On the other side of his chest is a six of hearts card done in vibrant red and chalky white. Somebody’s definitely got a theme. Above the card is a quote: Do your worst, for I will do mine. Isn’t that from The Count of Monte Cristo?
“I’m sorry about earlier. We shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.”
“It’s okay.”
He hovers in his spot indecisively, then turns as if to leave. Instead, he slams the door shut and comes to stand right in front of me. He takes the shirt I’m folding from my hands and places it down on the bed. The next thing he does is lace his fingers through mine. I watch, transfixed, as he brings our hands to come and rest in the centre of his chest. He tilts his head to the side.
“I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”
“Um, no,” I lie, and for once he doesn’t call me out on it.
He lets out a long breath. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said.”
“What I said?”
“About never having a man go down on you.”
My eyes widen at his words, but I try to laugh it off. “It’s pitiful, isn’t it?”
“You should let me do it. Show you what all the fuss is about.” His smile is devilish.
I pull my hand from his and walk to the other side of the room. Facing the window, I’m unable to look at him, not knowing whether to be elated or insulted. “You’re being inappropriate.”
“Darlin’.”
Oh, don’t call me that, Jason. I melt when you call me that.
Glancing down, I see that my hands are shaking. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever known. I should want this. I do want this. The problem is, I’m scared shitless.
I feel him move across the room, stopping right behind me. The heat from his body practically scorches me, and we’re not even touching. My voice is quiet when I start to speak.
“Don’t you think that might be kind of weird? You’re not my boyfriend, Jay.”
“I don’t need to be your boyfriend to do that to you, Matilda.” My name rolls off his tongue like a caress. Oh, God.
“Do you like me?” I ask, hating how insecure I sound.
“Of course I like you. I enjoy your company a lot.”
“I don’t mean in the friends way,” I soldier on disappointedly. Someone liking me as a friend isn’t the epic love I’ve been waiting my entire life for.
His hand goes to my arm as he leans his head on my shoulder, his breath hitting the back of my neck. “You have no idea,” he whispers.
A minute passes, and then his heat is gone. I turn around just in time to see him shutting my door behind him.
Eleven
The rest of the week passes quickly enough. I only ever see Jay at breakfast or during dinner. Other times he’s mostly off preparing for his show at the venue in Temple Bar. There’s been no further talk of sexual things, which is both a relief and a disappointment.
It’s all for the best, though. Jay was probably just feeling horny, and I was the only female around. The next morning I would’ve been slotted right back into the friend zone, and Jay would move on with his life while I wallowed in lovesickness. I gave up a night of pleasure to save my feelings in the long run.
On Thursday I meet up with Michelle for lunch and ask her if she wants to come with me to Jay’s show. Her answer is an enthusiastic yes.
When I go home that night, I log in to my online dating site for the first time in a while. It seems that ever since Jay moved in, I haven’t been obsessively checking my messages like I used to. Funny that.
I’ve got about five PMs from different guys. Only one of them seems decent. His name is Owen, and he’s got jet-black hair and blue eyes. A nice combination. Still, I can’t help comparing him to the golden-brown hair and hazel eyes that have been starring in my dreams of late. Owen works as a chef in a city restaurant, one I’m actually quite fond of, so that scores him some definite points. He’s two years older than I am and lives in the city centre. Deciding to be brave, and also to take my mind off my stupid crush on Jay, I write Owen a message back.
Hi, Owen,
Thanks for writing to me. I actually LOVE your restaurant! It’s such a coincidence that I eat there all the time. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I’d like to meet up. Let me know what day and time suits you.
Matilda.
There. Short and sweet. Just what the doctor ordered. My heart pounds as I hit the “send” button. I haven’t met up with anyone from the Internet before. I’ve thought about it a lot, forever telling myself that next week would be the week. In the end I kept putting it off for so long that it became a huge thing, and I had built up this unbreakable psychological barrier.
Now I’m deciding to face my fears; otherwise, I’ll just end up spending my days admiring Jay from afar, and that’s way too pathetic, even for me.
The next night I dress ambitiously for Jay’s show in a dark purple body-con dress and heels. I do my hair in waves clipped to the side and hanging over one shoulder. Owen still hasn’t messaged me back, and I admit it’s rubbed me up the wrong way slightly. I keep telling myself that he’s probably just busy. The work of a chef is notoriously stressful.
Anyway, perhaps I’ll meet somebody interesting tonight.
I’m studying my reflection in my full-length mirror, about to put in some stud earrings, when Jay appears in my doorway. He watches me for a minute as I stare at him through the glass.
“Don’t wear the earrings,” he says.
“Why not?”
Something mischievous dances in his eyes. “Just don’t.”
“Weird request, but all right. You look good, by the way.”
He’s wearing a black shirt and matching slacks. They make him look dark and mysterious and, if I’m being honest, a little like a sexy version of the Devil.
“You look better,” he replies, and I catch my breath at the compliment. “I have to leave early to bring some stuff to the venue. You and Michelle are going for drinks first, right?”
“Yeah. The same bar as last week. It’s not too far from your show, so we should be able to walk from there.”
Jay whistles. “In those shoes? I don’t think so.”
I laugh. “I think that might be a song, you know. Michelle and I once went to see this drag queen perform on Capel Street and the guy sang it.”
Jay gives me an indulgent look before rummaging in his pocket. “Get a cab. Here’s some cash.”
He places the money down on my dresser, but I have no intention of taking it. His eyes trail up and down my body before he tells me he’ll see me later, then disappears from my doorway just as quickly as he appeared.
Drinks with Michelle are as colourful as they usually are. She tells me all about her escapades with the man from last week and how he ended up tying her to his bedpost. It wasn’t as sexy as it sounds, though, because apparently the ties kept coming loose. The guy then proceeded to have a hissy fit because his attempt at bondage wasn’t working.
I laugh into my white wine, and after one more drink we make our way to Jay’s show. He was right about one thing – I shouldn’t have walked there in my heels. When selecting my footwear earlier, I hadn’t made concessions for the cobblestones lining the alleyway that leads to the venue. I’m thinking I’ll have a few pretty blisters to contend with come tomorrow.
Surprisingly, there’s a long queue outside extending onto the next street. Definitely an excellent turnout for something he’d only started advertising five days ago. Jay told me that he’d put mine and Michelle’s names on the guest list, so we wouldn’t have to wait to get in. Michelle takes great pleasure in the fact that we get to walk past those forming an orderly line and straight to the entrance. The bouncer checks that our names are on the list and then lets us both in.
A pretty girl with short purple hair comes up to us just after we’ve left our coats in the cloakroom.
“Hey, are you Matilda?”
“That’s me.”
“Great. Come with me. Mr Fields wants you sitting in the front row.”
“Oh,” I say warily. “Why’s that?”
She shrugs. “Not sure. I’m just following orders.”
The venue is underground, and the bare brick walls are all done in colourful spray paint. One side of the room is dark, depicting fire and demons, while the other side is bright and full of heavenly angels. It’s all seated, too, with rows and rows of old-style velvety cinema chairs. Cooler than any place I’ve ever been. Even some of the people here look too cool to be real, all tattoos, piercings, and unusual clothes. There are a couple of average-looking people as well, so I don’t feel completely out of place. The purple-haired girl tells us she’ll get us whatever drinks we want from the bar, and yes, we both opt for more wine.
“Wow, we’re really being given the VIP treatment tonight,” Michelle gushes, running her hands over the velvety armrests on either side of her.
“I know. Seemingly it pays to have an illusionist as a housemate. Who would have guessed?”
Michelle gets a sneaky gleam in her eye when she asks, “Does it pay in any other ways, too?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” I say just as the purple-haired girl returns with our drinks before hurrying back to the bar.
“Specifically, in the way of male and female relations,” she elaborates.
“Of course not!” I sputter far too defensively.
“Oh, but you wish it did. I know you, Matilda, and I know you like him. It’s written all over your face. Why don’t you go for it? It’s the whole reason I backed off last week, you know.”
Really? That’s why she backed off? She’s an even better friend than I give her credit for. Sighing, I lean my chin on my fist. “It’s not that simple. What if I came onto him and he was all like, uh, could you please not? I’d be mortified, and I’d still have to suffer living with him afterward. It’s too risky.”
“Life is risky. And anyway, I highly doubt he’d say that. It’s more likely he’d be all, yes, please continue.”
I laugh at her, and she smiles. She always manages to make me feel better, even if she was the one who brought up the subject in the first place. At least she repairs her own damage.
We drink some more wine, and then the venue starts to fill up. And I mean, there isn’t an empty seat in the house. There’s even a bunch of people who didn’t manage to get seats standing by the bar. I get a fright when someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see Jessie crouched behind me.
“Just thought I’d come say hi,” she says to me with a smile.
“Hi, Jessie, this is my friend Michelle.”
Jessie gives Michelle an appreciative look up and down, and a head nod. “Hey.”
“Hello,” says Michelle with a grin.
Jessie’s all dressed in black, the same as Jay had been, and it makes me wonder if she’s going to be a part of the show. Before I have the chance to ask her, she tells me she has to get going and hurries backstage.
Suddenly, every light in the house blows out, and we’re all plunged into darkness. What the hell? It’s so dark that I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. My heart beats fast, and electricity seems to fill the air. Ironic, no? Excitement clutches at my lungs. For some reason, I don’t think this is a fault with the electricity.
A track starts up, blasting through the speakers, and I immediately recognise the song: “Till I Collapse” by Eminem. What? I had a rap phase. The lights don’t come back on, though. A few seconds into the song, a spotlight lands on the stage, illuminating Jay from the feet up, as though he’s appearing out of thin air. My pores tingle with the heavy beat. His black shirt from earlier is gone, replaced by a simple black wife-beater vest. His muscular arms and tattoos are on full show, held out in front of his body as he displays a pair of shiny metal handcuffs binding his wrists.
A tiny grin forms on my lips. Is this a subtle jab at Una Harris’ article? I think so.
The audience erupts into applause, applause so deafening it makes me think they must be massive fans of his already, because he hasn’t even done anything yet. Jay beams down at everyone, and as he walks to the edge of the stage, he spots me and winks. Wow, I have chills. There’s something about the fact that the spotlight is the only light in the venue that makes the anticipation of what he might do that much more all-consuming.
He holds up his hands in a gesture that says “give me a moment,” and then he reaches inside his pocket, pulling out a tiny key and dangling it for everyone to see. The key is for the handcuffs. He raises it into the air, opens his mouth, and drops the key right in. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows it whole.
Walking from one side of the stage to the other, he again displays the strength of the handcuffs to the audience. Now he tries to yank his hands apart, but the handcuffs aren’t budging. He twists and turns his arms, but still nothing. What on earth is he up to?
I expect him to turn around at some point and then turn back with the handcuffs off, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he keeps yanking at them, and something starts to happen. The chain linking the cuffs together begins to crumble to sand, pouring onto the stage floor in a long stream. Seconds later, Jay snaps the cuffs in half. The crowd roars with applause.
Next, he pulls a knife out of the waistband of his pants. Bringing it to his chest, he slices right through the fabric, leaving a gaping hole to demonstrate its sharpness. Then, quick as a flash, he flips the knife; it flies right up into the air before turning and sailing back down, slicing directly through his foot. There’s an audible collective intake of breath. Jay plasters a confused look on his face and lifts his leg up, bending down to see that the knife has gone right through his shoe. You can see the sharp, pointy end of it sticking out of the sole. He bends down and pulls the knife clean out, and I’m not the only one who winces. I’m so close to him, sitting here in the front row, and it looks so real. It can’t be, though, because there’s no blood on the knife, and when he lifts his leg again, the sole of his shoe is completely intact.
More applause.
Next, he pulls a small black gun from his pocket and brings it to his head. I grimace, blood pounding in my ears. Past trauma has programmed me to panic at a sight like this, and even though I know it can’t be real, I still come out in goose bumps all over. I’m on the edge of my seat as he pulls the trigger and a violently loud bang goes off, confetti exploding out the other side of his skull. My heart stutters, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Guns have always been a bad visual for me, even ones that aren’t real.
The clapping deafens me almost as much as the bang of the fake gun.
He takes the gun now and covers it with both his hands. When he opens them, the gun is gone, and a bird flies out. A dove. One of his pet doves! Somehow, seeing a symbol of war being transformed into a symbol of peace is soothing to me. It does something to my brain, releases the trauma. The dove flies around him and then lands on his shoulder. Jay picks her up, holding her in his hands just like he held the gun. He crisscrosses his hands over her, and she transforms into two doves. Fucking. Wow.
He has each of them perched in either hand now. He raises his arms, and they fly off over the audience to the back of the venue. As he rubs his hands together quickly, smoke begins to rise out of his skin, and then huge, billowing flames erupt, seemingly from his very palms. The crowd goes wild, and the flames rise up and up. I can actually feel the heat of them from where I’m sitting, so I know they must be real. As this is happening, two red devil horns are projected against the bare wall behind him, making it look like they’re coming out of his own head.
Fire and brimstone.
Yep. I was definitely right earlier when I’d described him as a sexy version of the devil.
Then he reaches for a black strap around his neck and pulls one of those scary Jason masks on, covering his face. A group of people sitting to the back cheers loudly. Ah, I get it. His full name is Jason.
He stands there for a long time, completely still, his arms outstretched. Then, miraculously, his body starts to rise into the air by about two feet. He makes a swift gesture with his hands, and the curtains around the stage move abruptly, billowing out as though caught on a giant gust of wind. He gestures to a chair that had been placed off to the side, and it goes flying, crashing into the other end of the stage. A woman sitting behind me lets out a startled yelp.
Did I mention he’s still floating in the air? Flying while telekinetic. That’s some magic trick. Dry ice smoke begins to seep out from the floor, the dusty smell of it filling my nostrils.
He hovers there for a second before lowering back to the stage. When the clapping dies down, he reaches to pull the mask to the back of his head again, but when he reveals his face, it’s not Jay at all. It’s Jessie. She’s almost the same height, with similar tattoos, but not the same build. And she’s definitely not Jay.
Where the hell did he go?
