I sat at a bar in the casino, watching Jay have the time of his life a few tables away. His lucky streak of blackjack had drawn in an audience, and the onlookers gathered around to cheer him on, smiling at his infectious joy, impressed with his earnings. We'd been here for hours already, and he was still at it, drinking his weight in beer.
Across from my gambling addict of an uncle, a busty, middle-aged cocktail waitress flirted with Theo. She laughed loudly at everything he said—even his attempts to politely exit the conversation—and he kept glancing my way, silently begging for help. Which I denied, of course; his misery was far too amusing.
We'd made it to Vegas around midnight yesterday, and by the time we checked in to the hotel, none of us wanted to leave our suite. We'd slept in late this morning and spent a few hours by the pool, then wandered down the overstimulating Strip in search of a place to eat.
Unfortunately, Jay insisted on taking a photo with every half-naked, pasty-clad showgirl we passed, which I found both embarrassing and uncomfortable. The girls were lovely, obviously, but something about turning women into tourist attractions gnawed at me, and I wished Baker were here to discuss the moral implications. Instead, I had Theo, who laughed his ass off while I played photographer. He even had the gall to join my uncle when a particularly hot showgirl encouraged him to do so—hence my joy at his current state of suffering.
The last time I was in Vegas, my parents had merely driven through the Strip on our way to meet extended family, quietly condemning the zip code's sinful nature. But walking through the streets of the infamous travel destination was a different experience altogether. The amount of wealth in this oasis felt comical—and a bit insulting. Every last detail was commercialized or monetized, and everywhere you looked, you were assaulted by advertisements, announcements, or trucks plastered with adult content and leggy escorts.
The ostentation was suffocating. There were too many neon colors and sounds. Too many luxurious carpets and sculpted ceilings. And too many people overdressed for a walk as long and sweat inducing as the Strip. But under that pretty corporate veil, homelessness nestled in the shadows, and the candy stores and food establishments barely masked the stench of cigarette smoke and piss.
I wandered outside onto the pedestrian bridge to watch the Bellagio fountain, eager to flee casino land. The isolation soothed me, and I leaned against the parapet, peering out at the sunset and the wasteful display of water use.
I now understood what Theo meant when he spoke of Reno being so unabashedly authentic. Our little mountain town didn't try to be anything else, nor did anyone care about impressing out-of-towners. There was a, 'Don't like it? Piss off,' attitude that I'd slowly grown to appreciate.
"You lookin' for those Magic Mike guys in boxer shorts?" Theo teased, materializing out of thin air like a demon summoned. "I think I passed four on my way here."
He joined me at the wall, and I took a few seconds to appreciate the mellow oranges painting his face. He'd left his beanie behind today, allowing the breeze to toss his messy hair around his forehead and the tips of his eyebrows. The sun-kissed look paired nicely with his white t-shirt, black jeans, and smudgy eyeliner, and if I didn't know the guy, I would've guessed he'd just finished a band rehearsal in his buddy's uninsulated garage.
"Sorry I ditched you," I said, glancing back at his face before I started thinking too long and hard about his dexterous guitar hands. "It's just...not really my scene."
He fake-gasped. "You mean you're not into blowing all your hard-earned money on scams and rigged machines? I'm flabbergasted."
My lips curled. "What? You don't think I'd make a good gambler?"
"You're not exactly known for your audacious tendencies, Moe. Gambling is all risk management, and you order the exact same thing on the menu at every restaurant."
"That's...a matter of good taste," I argued, ignoring his snort. "Besides. I took a risk with you, didn't I? Driving you home that night? Staying the night?" Not to mention, giving him the honor of swiping my v-card. "For all I knew, you were a serial killer."
He snickered, lifting his hands as an act of surrender. "Fine. You're right; you take calculated risks."
"Good ones, too."
"Yeah?"
I pursed my lips, but it was too late to retract the compliment. "Sometimes."
He hummed, and we leaned against the wall before us, grazing shoulders and fogging up the glass panels. But while my eyes settled on the fountain below, our single point of contact consumed my mind.
The constrained intimacy made me ache for some privacy and a bedroom all to ourselves. It made me yearn for the chance to pin Theo to the mattress and show him what I could do. To watch him worship my body in a way that would never compare to the subtle glances he'd paid to the women of the Strip.
And as he turned to address me again, I thought he was about to propose exactly that when he said, "I know this isn't your ideal spring break. But it's really awesome of you to do this for your uncle."
Oh.
Well. That was certainly not what I expected to fall off his tongue. And now I felt like a nymphomaniac.
I shrugged off the praise. "Same for you. You didn't have to do all this. You're not even related to Jay."
"I know." He bent his head closer, bringing his lips two inches from mine. Hazel eyes flicked from my pupils to my mouth. "But he's not the only one I'm doing this for."
His kiss was soft and warm and maddeningly addictive. His tongue rolled against my bottom lip, and a shiver raced across my nape as I opened up, welcoming the taste of him, the shape of him, the heat of his mouth. Kisses like these transported me somewhere else, and I knew I'd get lost in him if I prolonged this moment a second more.
Tempting, but we had an expensive itinerary on the line.
I pulled away and opened my eyes, hating the sense of deficiency that invaded my chest. "The magic show is at eight," I whispered. "Should we fetch Jay and grab a bite to eat?"
Theo straightened, and he looked a little touch-starved as well, like his restraint was slowly killing him. "I guess. Will you shield me from the cougar who says I remind her of a young John Stamos?"
I snorted. "You tell people to fuck off every day at your job, and suddenly you can't fend for yourself?"
"I'm building a brand at Grounds. Those are customers," he explained. "I'm not out here trying to be an asshole to complete strangers."
"Fine." I grabbed his hand and sighed. "You're weird."
"You love it though."
"I don't...not love it."
He grinned, squeezing my hand, and we walked back inside the marble palace, my grievances forgotten.
Per Jay's request, we decided on a world-class magician and master illusionist for our evening entertainment, and while I wasn't particularly excited to see a con artist convince an entire audience he was god's favorite, I was partial to the idea of sitting in a dark room for a night, safe from slow-moving tourists, relentless advertisements, and bombastic rhetoric.
We shuffled into the second row under the dim lighting, and I checked the tickets again to make sure the usher hadn't steered us wrong. But according to my email confirmation, we had in fact reserved Orchestra seats—smack dab in the middle of the theater.
"This is crazy. How much did you spend on tickets, Jay?"
"Why do you care? It's my money, isn't it?" he grumbled, confirming my suspicion that he'd already cored his checking account. "And I just won $700 at blackjack. Cool your jets."
I huffed and sat down between him and Theo, who'd smuggled a thermos of spiked soda into the auditorium to avoid paying for overpriced cocktails. He offered me a sip, smirking at my uncle's brusque response, and I sighed. Before now, I'd never considered how similar my male companions were. But it made sense why I was so comfortable around Theo, despite our confrontational origin. His wisecracks and crotchety disposition had always itched of familiarity.
Ten minutes later, music erupted from the speakers, and the polyester curtains opened in a breathtaking fashion, rippling with smooth shadows and blinding stage lights. Behind the grand drape, a man in slacks and a buttoned vest emerged, waving at the roaring crowd. He was shorter than I expected, but he had a kind of eternal face structure, like he could appear in any historical drawing, dated photograph, or period drama and never look out of place.
Hugh Cantraine, as he called himself, opened the performance by transforming a dancing flame into a bird—and then he used his mirror to duplicate the bird into a pair of flying doves. A chorus of gasps and exclamations quickly escalated to thunderous applause, and my wide gaze swept the chamber. Since we'd arrived, the attendees had grown exponentially, and now I couldn't find a single empty seat in a sea of awed faces.
A full house tonight. And a crowded one.
Theo placed his hand on my thigh, sensing my distress. "There are four exits, but if we need to leave for any reason, we should stick to Jay's side of the aisle—we got a few folks with walkers on my end," he disclosed. "I also saw a bathroom sign on the right before we entered the theater. I know you won't use it during the act because you hate drawing attention to yourself, but...just in case."
My relieved exhale brought a smile to his lips. "Wow. I think you know me a little too well." I shot him a grateful look. "Thanks."
He planted a soft kiss on my cheek, and the gesture warmed my blood. "Tell Carl he can sit this one out."
The magician proceeded with his routine for the night, and his control, grace, and flawless execution had my jaw on the floor for two hours. The cognitive dissonance I suffered watching him artfully remove and reattach body parts, separate heads and torsos, levitate objects and assistants in mid-air, and create seemingly psychic connections among audience members was both infuriating and delightful. I knew, logically, it was all light manipulation, perspective, and skillful misdirection, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how the tricks were possible. And for that, he'd earned himself a new fan.
On the other hand, Theo, who typically embodied cynicism, was fully convinced we'd just witnessed the work of a warlock, and Jay hadn't stopped swearing in disbelief since the opening act.
By the end of the show, each of us was fully enthralled—and completely mindfucked.
"And finally, I will perform a vanishing act like you've never seen before!" Cantraine announced, eliciting a whir of excited murmurs. "And for this, I'd like to select a lucky member of the audience."
I immediately shrank in my seat to hide from his piercing gaze. Like hell.
He paced the stage, searching the auditorium for eager participants, hunting for a human prop. Then he paused right in front of our section, and I tried my best to look as uninterested as possible. Please don't fucking pick me. If there's a god above...
"You there! In the blue shirt."
The spotlight bathed us in white light, and my head snapped to Jay in bewilderment. He pointed at himself. "Me?"
"Yes! The fellow with the baseball cap!"
One of the assistants ran up the aisle, beckoning Jay forward, and I half-expected the grump to wave her off. But to my utter shock, he stood and made his way to the end of our row, passing me an excited look over his shoulder. He then linked elbows with the woman, and the duo ascended the steps together, triggering another round of applause.
I glanced at Theo, both incredulous and horrified, and he blinked at me, baffled by the surreal turn of events.
"Hello, sir," the magician said, welcoming Jay onto the stage. "Can you tell me your name?"
Jay squinted at the black abyss before him, then stepped up to the assistant's microphone. "Jay Rivas."
"And can you confirm, Mr. Rivas, that you are an untrained audience member selected at random?"
"I am."
"And do you agree to partake in my one-of-a-kind disappearing act?"
Jay nodded. "Hell yes."
Cantraine grinned and gestured broadly to the audience. "Well, then. Let's hear it for the courageous Mr. Rivas!"
The chamber roared with violent clapping and ear-splitting whistles, and I felt my chest constrict with apprehension. "...Is this actually happening?"
Theo let out a breath. "Apparently. Is Jay okay to participate...health-wise?"
"Probably not. But I don't think he cares."
Cantraine clasped his hands together behind his back and tilted his head. "So, what brings you to the city, Jay? Other than my splendid performance, of course."
Jay cleared his throat, and his total lack of nervousness and embarrassment amazed me. Then again, a death sentence would probably overshadow most fears in life, including stage fright. "I've got lung cancer," he put bluntly, pulling a quiet snort from Theo, "and my niece and her boyfriend brought me down here as a sort of Make-A-Wish thing." He grinned at the tender ahhs of the crowd. "Thought we'd end the night with a good show."
The magician, not anticipating the cancer bombshell, swallowed his rehearsed lines and exchanged brief glances with his assistants. Then he smiled at his throng of spectators. "Well, if that isn't the sweetest thing we've heard all night!" He bowed his head at Jay. "I'm honored, Mr. Rivas."
Jay leaned over the mic again. "Maybe when I reappear, you can leave the cancer in the void." He cracked a smile to show he was entirely unserious. "Worth a shot, yeah?"
Cantraine barked a laugh, and it was perhaps the most genuine thing to leave his lips in hours. "Yes! Certainly worth a shot!" He beamed at Jay, thrilled to have chosen an endearing and engaging audience member. "Let's give everyone a night to remember. What do you say?"
Jay paused for dramatic effect, then smiled behind the microphone. "Fuck yeah."
I slapped my hand to my forehead as Cantraine, Theo, and the crowd burst into startled laughter.
Christ, Jay.
So much for a kid-friendly show.
Succeeding Jay's profanity, the sound engineer played a mysterious, suspenseful soundtrack to help set the tone for Cantraine's final act, and the magician guided Jay to a raised platform at the center of the stage.
Balancing on a set of stilts, the contraption bore a cage large enough to stand in, and the two men climbed the metal stairs and entered the cube-like structure, side by side. Cantraine had his assistants poke and prod at the platform while he circled Jay, curbing any accusations of mirrors and trap doors and other illusions. Then, in tune with the music, a translucent net descended over the sides of the box, shimmering with blue light and digital effects that just barely veiled the figures within.
Jay waved at us from behind the screen, and I held my breath when the magician questioned his readiness. The old man gave a thumbs up, and then Cantraine asked him what his favorite candy bar was.
"PayDay," he replied with a speediness that proved it.
"Excellent. Do enjoy one while you're waiting."
A second later, Jay vanished from sight in a burst of digital smoke and electric ripples—impossibly fast, impossibly isolated. His inexplicable disappearance left the magician standing alone before an astonished audience, and my hand flew to Theo's arm, scrambling for purchase.
It's just a magic trick, Moe.
Just an illusion.
Just a skit.
While the attendees around us stood to clap, Theo and I remained seated and silent. I felt his cautious eyes on me, but mine were glued to the stage where Jay had been waving at me just moments ago. Where he should have been. Where he wasn't.
"Now where on earth has Mr. Rivas disappeared to?" the magician teased, descending the platform to consult his assistants. The gorgeous woman to his right opened an empty box she'd previously inhabited, and to his left, a young man inspected the silk sheet they'd used prior to Jay. But there was no sign of my uncle, and the constricted feeling in my chest grew painful now, compressing my lungs, constricting my airway.
A few seconds later, the magician peered out at the crowd, and the spotlight followed his gaze, illuminating a number of confused audience members. Then the drumroll collapsed in a triumphant clash of symbols, and everyone spun to behold the sharp circle of light on the other side of the theater—where Jay sat in a random seat with a half-eaten PayDay in his fist.
The crowd lost their minds, and the oxygen suddenly returned to my body, assuaging Carl and a host of darker, uglier feelings. It was silly, this shower of relief. I knew the whole thing was a farce. There was nothing at stake just now; there never had been. But the performance left a hollow feeling inside me, and as the magician wrapped up his set, all my enthusiasm and joy turned to ash.
Something about seeing Jay vanish before my eyes like that...it was unsettling, and it felt more like a premonition than an outstanding feat of magic.
Theo draped his hand over mine, anchoring me to the present, and I shot him a sad smile.
He didn't ask me any questions or attempt to reassure me with words, but he didn't have to. I knew from the sympathetic look in his eye that he understood.
He always did.