The Magician's Assistant

[4] New "Babysitting" Job

          “William Larkin’s assistant,” I replied, feeling a tiny blush rise into my cheeks.

          James froze in his spot, his back still to me. “The magician?”

          “Yeah,” I responded simply, waiting to hear what James would say about it. He remained frozen, not uttering a single word. “Hey, are you alright?”

          James slowly eased the tension in his shoulders, turning around towards me. He plastered a small smile on his face, nodding. “I’m fine. Just fine. Are you sure you want to do this? From what I’ve heard, he’s not the most admirable person.”

          “I’ll get one hundred bucks a show. Fifty bucks a rehearsal. It’s negotiable, too,” I said, immediately coming to the offer’s defense. “I’d be willing to wax the entire crew’s backs every night if I got paid that much.”

          “If you think it’s a good idea…” James said slowly and hesitantly.

          “No insight on this? No snide remarks?” I double-checked, surprised.

          “Nope,” James said curtly.

          Okay, something was definitely wrong. Knowing James though, there was no point in asking him to spill the beans. He’d tell me when he was ready. If I tried to pry answers, he’d go into silent mode.

          “Alright…” I said, dragging out each letter in the word. “So, are you going to stay and help me out here?”

          James refused to look me in the eye when he responded. “Actually, I have some things to attend to…right now. I’ll have to talk to you later. Uh, yeah. Let me know how it goes.”

          Then he disappeared.

          “What the heck?” I mumbled, pressing my lips together as I stared at the vacant space he was previously standing in.

          James lied to me. How did I know this? When he lied, he would not make eye contact. His guilty expression would always give his lies away, and he knew it. He had only done it once or twice before, and it was about major issues.  An unnerving feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach told me that something was seriously wrong.

          “James? Come back!” I said loudly, waiting for him to appear back in my bedroom. There was not a single response.

          I began worrying about him. What had I said that would make him upset? Sighing, I lay flat on my back on my uncomfortable bed and began dialing the phone number Ruth gave me.

          After four rings, a voice picked up on the other line. “Hello?”

          “Hi…uh, Ruth?” I asked, placing the phone between my shoulder and my ear while I played with the hem of my shirt.

          “Yes, may I ask who is calling?” Ruth’s voice responded.

          “Rachel Cooper. We talked last night at the show.”

          “Oh, yes! Hi, Rachel! How are you?” Ruth said, putting on one of those sweet as sugar voices professional people use on the phone.

          Disregarding the fact that my best friend was upset with me, I lied and said, “I’m great. And you?”

          “Wonderful, wonderful. I’m so glad you called. I figured I probably scared you away with my scary talk about William,” she laughed awkwardly.