Magic Dude

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Magic Dude Page 15

by Lee Hayton


  Tyler’s dad stepped forward, the conversation not heading in the direction he’d wanted it to. “Now, wait here—”

  The CPS woman held her hand up, silencing the man with that one gesture.

  “Sorry? He pepper sprayed you while you were in your car?” The look the woman cast Tyler’s way was halfway between disbelief and disapproval.

  “We’d pulled over to ask for directions. The damn GPS is playing up, and we should have been at our motel an hour before.” Tyler shrugged. “I should have asked earlier but, you know. Men and asking directions.”

  CPS lady pulled out her notepad. Tyler’s heart kicked into a faster beat. He recognized the pattern on the cover from his dream. If the trial had been a dream.

  “Let me get this straight. You pulled over to ask for directions from this gentleman.” Her nose wrinkled up at the use of the word in connection with his dad. “Then he sprayed you and stole your daughter from the car?”

  Tyler’s dad tried again to interrupt, his brow furrowed in fury. The CPS woman shook her head at him, “You’ll get your turn, sir.” He withdrew a step, his hands tightening into fists.

  “This man broke the windows,” Tyler said. He pointed out to the side of the road where the shattered glass could clearly be seen. “Front and back. He was like a madman—shouting and making a scene. When we tried to shelter Wilma, he sprayed something into our faces.”

  Gary stepped forward. “It hurt like a bugger. I still can’t see properly. Out of nowhere, it was. We were sitting there, deciding on where to go for dinner, then suddenly—POW! My face was burning, and my skin reacted like fire ants were crawling over me.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “Came in here after him. There’s no way I’m letting my daughter get taken by a stranger without a fight. I thought he’d block the door or something, but he just opened it up and let us in. We’ve been trying to leave again for the past hour.”

  Tyler gave an exaggerated sigh.

  “It’s my fault. I got in a bit of bother when I was younger, and it’s not in my nature to call the cops on anyone. Still, I couldn’t think what else to do. This man”—Tyler jerked his head at his dad—“was just sitting around like nothing had happened. Until we tried to leave, then the shit really hit the fan. He sprayed us with water and threatened to tie us up. When I said I was going to the bathroom, I called CPS instead.”

  The woman stepped close to Tyler, assessing Wilma with a practiced eye, then casting her glance over to Gary. Her frown deepened, and she stared, transfixed. Gary tried to smile, but that just made his face curl into an even more bizarre configuration.

  “Do you mind?” Tyler’s voice contained just the right amount of righteous anger to have her face him again. “My friend’s very sensitive about his facial deformity. Most people we come across know better than to stare.”

  A blush started at the woman’s neckline, creeping up the creped skin of her throat and then spreading its crimson stain across her cheeks. As they blotched in discoloration, Tyler embellished his story some more. While his dad was staring, open-mouthed and speechless with rage, this might be his only chance.

  “I’m glad you came so quickly. The past hour’s been like a bizarre nightmare.” Tyler edged toward the front door, staring down his dad. “Would you mind very much if we took off now? I’m worried if we don’t find our way to the motel soon, they’ll pass our reservation to someone else.”

  “Only if they misunderstand the meaning of reservation.” The CPS lady looked at Tyler’s dad. “Is any of this bullshit true?”

  “It’s not bullshit,” Wilma shrieked. She ran across the room and kicked the CPS lady in the shins. “This man”—she pointed at Tyler’s dad—“he gassed us or maced us or something. If you don’t believe me, then just go outside and check the car.”

  “They’re talking nonsense.” After minutes of silence, Tyler’s dad found his voice again. It sounded weak and unsure. “They turned up with the little girl, and I know she’s not his. I called you lot as soon as I got the chance.”

  “He is so my daddy,” Wilma shrieked, going into decibels that didn’t often get an airing. “You’re a monster. You busted up my car, and you hurt my dad and his friend. I wish we’d never stopped to ask you anything.”

  You and me both, thought Tyler.

  “I can give you the address and phone number for the motel we’re staying at tonight.” Tyler offered the CPS woman a wide smile to accompany his words. “I don’t know what sort of testimony or interviews you’ll need from us, but we’re willing to cooperate in any way we can.”

  “You can’t let them go,” Tyler’s dad shouted. “They’re diddling that little girl.”

  “Nobody’s diddling me!” Wilma crossed her arms and looked at him with defiance. “You’re a dirty old man if you think my father or his friend had even thought of doing such a thing. They’ve got each other for that!”

  Perfect! Tyler made a mental note to slip Wilma something extra with next week’s rent. If they ever got back into a situation where that plan made any sense.

  The CPS woman cocked an eyebrow at Gary and Tyler. Not knowing what signals she was looking for, they both just stared back, their faces slack. She read whatever she needed into it, closing her notebook with a slap.

  “Let’s see this car, then. I’ll take photos and that address, then you can all be on your way.” She turned to Tyler’s dad. “You, sir, are in a lot of trouble. Even if you didn’t harm this girl, the police would be interested to know how you obtained an illegal weapon.”

  With a sullen voice, Tyler’s dad said, “Pepper spray isn’t illegal.” He realized his error a moment too late—the CPS woman’s face lit up.

  “So, you are admitting to spraying these good men with pepper spray?”

  Tyler’s dad crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not admitting to nothing.”

  “Then the next visitors coming here will be the police. I hope you’re just as rude to them.” The woman leaned closer to him. “I hear they like it when you fight them during the arrest. Gives them a chance to work out with their fists, if you know what I mean.”

  “This is bullshit. I called you. I was concerned for the girl.”

  “We don’t take children away from their fathers just because they’re gay,” the CPS woman said. She paused, pursing her lips. “Least, not anymore we don’t.”

  She escorted Tyler, Gary, and Wilma to the car. The shattered window glass still covered the seats. Tyler didn’t know where the canister from the front seat had gone, but the tear gas sat plumb in the middle of the back seat. Gary climbed in and lay on top of it before the CPS woman could see.

  “Just a mobile number will be fine,” the woman said when Tyler started his charade of not remembering the exact name of the motel. “As long as it’s working, I can get ahold of you.”

  “It’s working, all right,” Tyler said, writing down a fake number before settling into the front seat. The night was a blur of smeared streetlights and darkness. He hoped that the woman wouldn’t stand too close when he tried to drive away.

  A moment later the woman stared at him with her eyebrows raised. “Do you want to check the number you gave me again, sir? It appears you might have mixed up a digit.”

  “Oh, Dad. You complete ass.” Wilma reached over for the notepad and scribbled a number down. “Try that one, it gets through to me.”

  A moment later the cellphone in Wilma’s pocket began ringing, and the woman nodded as she disconnected the call. “Expect a phone call from me or the police later tonight. We’ll want to tee up interviews pretty quickly. You from out of town?”

  “Yeah, just headed up to Vegas,” Wilma said. Her eagerness was written large upon her face. “Dad’s going to gamble away our life savings.”

  The woman stared down in horror, then Wilma giggled. Soon, they were both wearing smiles. She slapped her hand on the side of the car twice before moving back to the sidewalk.

  “Can we get t
he fuck out of here?” Wilma asked under her breath. “I’ve been in care once before, and I don’t want to revisit it anytime soon.”

  “Can you see?” Tyler asked while Gary rummaged around beneath him to fish out the tear gas canister and throw it out of the car. “Don’t litter!”

  “I can see fine,” Wilma said. She popped the SIM card out of her phone, then reached across to grab the edge of the steering wheel. “Now, let’s go!”

  They sped away, the back wheels skidding briefly on the road before they gripped hold and the car surged forward. In their wake, a confused CPS officer stared after them, no doubt wondering if she’d made a mistake.

  It took an hour before Wilma’s phone got a signal. She had an unused SIM card in her glove box. Along with the gun she stored in there, it made Tyler wonder if his landlady had other business interests that she kept secret.

  “The Almighty Hotel is six streets back from the strip.” Wilma sniffed. “Let’s make a pact that none of us wander around the streets down there alone. The further you get from the main action, the more dangerous it is.”

  “For me, I just want to get in and out of there.” Tyler’s sight had started to come back. Either that or the darkness didn’t present him with enough opportunities to see. He could follow the road now without Wilma having to keep hold of the steering wheel. When she’d finally pried her fingers off it, her face had been full of regret.

  “I hope that they can get me back to adult-sized,” Wilma said. Tiredness dragged at her voice, pulling it down on the brink of melancholy. “I’m getting pretty sick of being fun-sized.”

  “I’m getting pretty sick of being hog-sized.” Gary leaned forward to stick his weirdly shaped head between them. “All I dreamed of last night was looking in the mirror and seeing my old face staring back at me. I was in heaven.”

  “Taking that a step too far, Gary.” Wilma turned, a cheeky grin cutting through her somber mood. “Nobody has ever looked at your mug and thought they were in heaven.”

  He snorted—an action that a full-man-sized warthog shouldn’t do. Gunk flew in a ball to spatter on the dashboard.

  “Ew!”

  “That’s what you get for mocking me, little lady.” When it came to picking up on the words that annoyed folk, Gary had a true talent. “Plenty more where that came from.”

  But Wilma didn’t let herself be drawn. “Settle down, Gary. No doubt this seedy hotel will be crawling with enemies. Save your mucus for them, okay?”

  “Oh, shit!” Tyler banged the steering wheel, then eased the car over onto the soft shoulder. The suburbs with their solid masses of concrete sidewalks had long fallen away behind them.

  “What?” Wilma’s voice ran up the scale straight into panic. She sat bolt upright, leaning forward to peer over the dash.

  “Sorry. No, I meant I’m a stupid shit,” Tyler said.

  “No need to announce that, dude,” Gary said with a snigger. “We already know.”

  Tyler held the stone out towards his warthog friend. “Heal him.”

  The same glow emerged that Tyler had witnessed in a pub bathroom before everything started to go wrong. When he thought having control of magic was great. Fabulous. Right before he discovered that he couldn’t have that and drink, too.

  Gary’s reddened skin faded into its previous muddy hue. His eyes stopped bulging, the fluid swelling them drained away. The capillaries shrank back to their usual size. Even in the darkness of the roadside, Tyler immediately saw that he’d returned to normal.

  “I tried this ages ago,” he admitted. “Then I forgot all about it.”

  Tyler placed the stone up to his face. “Heal me.” He felt the soothing relief as the dull burn in his skin and eyes fell away.

  “I’m sorry, mate. I should’ve remembered and done that straight away.”

  Gary rubbed his eyes and slapped his cheeks, his lips curling into a smile of joy.

  “No worries.” He blinked hard once, then again. “It’s amazing. Like nothing happened to me at all.”

  “Do you need some?” Tyler asked Wilma, who nodded. Even though she’d come off lightly, her skin was still flushed from its passing acquaintance with the gas.

  “Just as well you didn’t remember,” Wilma said. “Otherwise, our trick with the CPS officer mightn’t have worked out as easy.”

  Tyler nodded, but the feeling of stupidity lingered. “I wish I’d won that instruction manual. If this is a powerful gift, it’s completely wasted on me.”

  “Seems like more trouble than its worth, even if you got it up and running.” Wilma leaned over to pat Tyler on the back of his hand. “Soon as we’re rid of the thing, I vote that we spend all the money in Gary’s account in celebration.”

  “Seconded,” Tyler said at the same time that Gary said, “No!”

  “I wonder if commanding pokey machines would work.” Wilma shifted around in her seat. The long hours of driving over the past few days had left them all uncomfortable. “I’ve certainly lost enough money to them.”

  Tyler started up the car again, nosing it back onto the road. “You keep thinking of ways we can use it, I’ll keep trying to oblige.”

  “Do you think it could swing us a room upgrade at this hotel?” Gary piped up from the back seat. “And a fully stocked minibar for those of us who can still drink.”

  “A never-ending bowl of Cheetos,” Wilma said in a dreamy voice. “And not a single calorie among them.”

  “A full gas tank,” Tyler mused just as the car jackrabbited to a stop.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The trio pulled up upside the Almighty Hotel early the next morning. During the night, they’d just stopped at the side of the road and slept as best they could. No taking turns driving. Both Gary and Tyler were too exhausted to consider that.

  The only thing that the Almighty Hotel shared with its mate from the Trials was its name and its lack of parking. The latter wasn’t because its garage was full up. It didn’t have a parking garage at all.

  Sandwiched between a low-class eatery and a peep show, with the peep show winning the cleanliness stakes, the Almighty Hotel stretched up an impressive four stories short.

  Low enough so that some wit had stood on the entrance façade and spray-painted out the word hotel. The replacement ‘mistake’ suited the shabby place better. Maybe that was why no one had bothered to remove it. From the fading paint, the amendment had been in place for quite a long time.

  “Circle round again,” Wilma ordered. “This neighborhood is so bad, there’ll be some spot free.”

  Her voice was crammed with worry. Tyler understood that it was for the car rather than him or Gary. What with the beating it had already taken, Wilma’s pride and joy was looking rather rank. Smelled that way, too, thanks to the trip to the rubbish dump, already fading in his memory.

  “Dumb ass,” Tyler announced, pulling over to the curb.

  Wilma turned to him with a frown. “What?”

  He held out the stone. “Make this car look like new.”

  The pink glow enveloped them, then dissipated as quickly as it had formed. A woman peering out of a nearby window gave a start and disappeared. Otherwise, the streets were thankfully empty due to the time of day.

  “Do you think perhaps you should perform your magic tricks where not everyone can see them?” Wilma asked.

  “It’s Vegas, baby.” Tyler stretched out his arms. “They’ll just think we’re Penn and Teller or David Copperfield.” He twiddled his fingers for added effect.

  “You remember that we’re in the bad part of town, right?”

  Wilma’s glare made Tyler recheck the streets. “Yeah, it’s not the flashest.”

  “But you decided to make the car look the best it’s ever done, just as we’re trying to park it on the side of the street. How about you put a flashing sign on the front, welcoming local car thieves to try their luck?”

  “Yeah.” Tyler’s voice was so small that it barely squeaked out of him. “I can reverse it.”


  “Look how that’s worked out so far,” Gary called out from the back seat. “I vote you leave it. I love this new car smell.”

  “Should I try for a spot closer?”

  “Just issue a command that the vehicle can’t be stolen.” Tyler’s eyebrows raised at Gary’s suggestion. The man was blossoming as a warthog. It would almost be a shame to turn him back.

  “You okay with that, Wilma?”

  She flipped her hand at him. Tyler commanded the stone, and the glow told him it had obeyed. Although there wasn’t any other visible sign to confirm the action, he felt comfortable it had done its thing.

  “How are we going to work out who the owner is?” Gary asked. “Since we don’t have a name or occupation.”

  “Dad said the stone would tell us.”

  “He also said that you were a child molester,” Wilma butted in. “Shouldn’t we work out a plan B?”

  “If you can think of something by the time we get there, let me know. Otherwise, we’ll go with Gary’s idea.”

  The hotel entrance was shabby chic without the chic. It looked as though it had decided not to care for itself long ago and was now just waiting out the years to complete decay.

  A bored desk clerk looked up as the three of them entered, then went back to staring at his computer screen. No trouble. Wasn’t like he could help out at any rate. Tyler stared down at the stone in his hand, willing it to show him something.

  “Well?” Wilma said. “Got a feeling, yet?”

  “Give it a moment,” Tyler replied. “I’m sure it has to get used to the place first.”

  “Yeah.” She snorted. “Wouldn’t want it to miss out on soaking up all this ambiance.”

  “Exactly right.” Tyler was barely listening to Wilma as he pivoted in a slow circle. He felt like one of those old-time listening devices, with his outstretched palm instead of a metal satellite dish.

  “I’ll be at the vending machine if anyone needs me.” Wilma walked away, fiddling in her pockets for some change.

  “Gary? You want something?”

  Gary looked like the thing he could do with most was an aspirin or another night’s sleep. He walked over to peruse the selection, scratching behind one floppy ear.

 

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