Magic Mansion Read Free Page A

and Professor Topaz. “Remember, guys, Magic Mansion isn’t only about your parlor tricks.” He seemed bored, like he’d given those instructions one time too many. “That’s the premise of the show, but the real reason people watch reality TV is to see how the contestants interact with each other.”
    Professor Topaz turned. The motion made his velvet cape flare gently, and the stage lights framed him with backlighting. All Ricardo could see of his features was the glint of the ambient light off his eyeballs as he donned his top hat. “Break a leg,” he said solemnly.  
    Then again, he said everything solemnly. That was part of his act.
    The thought of sharing the stage with Professor Topaz transported Ricardo from the state of simple nervousness to that of all-out, mind-numbing panic. Did he even remember how to breathe? It seemed as if he might not. In. Out. There was the trick of it. Now, hopefully, he could keep going with it while he forced himself through his act.
    “You may begin,” Topaz said quietly. He’d opened a case and needed just a moment to set up his props. Ricardo recognized the cage-like box immediately. Square circle, a classic. Ricardo had seen him do the trick at the Humboldt county fair. He’d been very solemn about it.
    Ricardo’s silver linking rings didn’t need any prep. He glided to the front of the stage and launched into his act without hesitation. Prepare to be amazed, et cetera, et cetera. His act wasn’t about the metal rings, though, and it wasn’t about his banter. It was about poise and grace. He rolled one of the rings along the top of his arm, then allowed it to teeter on his fingertip for a moment before he flicked it onto his wrist. He’d done the move so many times before—thousands of times—that it went off like clockwork. His palms had even dried. Ricardo hadn’t realized sheer terror would do that for a guy.
    He shifted his weight and rolled out the second ring. If he’d been working a bachelorette party, he would have brought his hips into the act. Here, though…he had no idea what the producers were looking for to populate Magic Mansion. Did they want a player? Or did they want a serious magician? Not that one couldn’t be both. And besides, the whole hip-grinding thing was just part of the act. Like fishnets.
    The third ring, some light juggling, just a bit of hip action, and finally, Ricardo struck the rings together. Once, twice, metal chimed against metal, and then he allowed the upper ring to slip through the hidden gap. Presto—the rings were linked.
    With a flourish, he ceded the stage to Professor Topaz. His pulse was pounding so hard he wondered if the judges could see veins throbbing in his forehead, and he glided back from the spotlight to deflect the attention from his own nervousness.
    Professor Topaz turned his riveting gaze toward the producers and put himself through the paces of his illusion, timeless steps, like a waltz. He didn’t move around the stage as Ricardo had; he was thirty years older, and no longer needed to grind his hips to hold an audience’s attention.
    Not that Ricardo could have pictured Topaz prancing around like a gigolo. Even thirty years ago.
    No, Professor Topaz could bring a hush to a room with a flick of his cape, a glance of his flashing, dark eyes. When his voice swelled and he intoned, “Behold, the canister is no longer empty,” Ricardo couldn’t tear his gaze away from those graceful hands. Silk scarves fluttered from the loaded chamber, floated on the air, buoyant and ephemeral, framing the commanding form of Professor Topaz, who stood among them like a figure from a dream.
    He’d looked exactly the same, back when Ricardo was a teenager, the first time he saw Professor Topaz perform. Only now he had a shock of silver at his temple. A stunning shock of silver that Ricardo ached to run his fingers through.  
    Ricardo glanced down. Damn it, not here. Not now.
    His body seemed bent on reacting to the