“Well, Monty, since I work at the gift shop at Magicopolis, I’ve handled lots of different props, from toy magic tricks for children, to cheap souvenirs, to decently-made entry level props. If we needed to demonstrate the use of a false chamber hat, I would be the most familiar with it.”
“Good reasoning, Gold Team. We’ll see if it pans out for you. And the randomly selected magician you’ll be competing against from the Red Team…”
Please be John. PLEASE BE JOHN.
“…is Amazing Faye.”
Ricardo’s heart sank. He was going to be put up against John, he just knew it. And if they competed with linking rings—be it juggling them or counting them or marching around with them stacked on top of their heads—Ricardo would win. Because the rings were his props. Even if he wasn’t trying to influence them like he did with Bev’s cards, he was so connected to the way they felt and sounded (and even smelled), they’d still pick up on whatever it was he wanted them to do.
“What’s the matter, kiddo?” Muriel whispered. “You look a little green.”
Ricardo shook his head, said, “I’m fine,” and shifted his attention back to Monty.
“Pulling a rabbit out of a hat,” Monty read from the teleprompter, “is such a common magic trick that one might say it’s even become a bit of a cliché. But finding a rabbit in a hat among a sea of other things…might prove to be more difficult. Especially when your opponent is trying to find that rabbit first. Ladies, take your places, and when you hear the buzzer, begin searching. The first magician who finds a rabbit is the winner. Ready…set….”
The buzzer sounded. Sue dropped to her knees, while Faye bent at the waist to thrust their hands into the nearest hat. Sue pulled out a stuffed ladybug. Faye pulled out a small teddy bear. Both of them flung the toys over their shoulders and reached for another hat. Sue pulled out a plush monkey, a stuffed dog, a rag doll. Faye pulled out a plush parrot and toy cat. Sue waded forward on her knees. She was quicker, and the pile of stuffed carnival toys behind her was obviously growing faster than Faye’s.
Sue’s progress was not lost on Faye, who decided to use the fact that she was still standing up to her advantage. She leapt into the center of the field of hats in her stiletto heels and began working from there. It hadn’t seemed as if the assistants who’d set up the stunt placed a “winning hat” in any one particular spot…but Faye’s decisive move toward the middle made Sue start working even faster, grabbing hat after hat. She tried to speed things up by shaking the stuffed toys out, one hat in each hand, but the contents were packed in tightly enough that she needed both hands to get them out. In her excitement, she began flinging both the toy and the hat, and soon so many plushies and hats were flying, it seemed as if the whole ballroom had turned into one big card-grabbing booth.
Soon there was a cry—a triumphant shriek so startling Ricardo couldn’t say who it had come from. But then he saw Faye standing tall, brandishing a blue and purple stuffed rabbit over her head, waving it gleefully, while Sue sagged down onto her hands, hair hanging in her face….and the churning dismay in Ricardo’s gut told him that now he’d not only end up pitted against John, but now he’d need to try for all he was worth just to keep Gold Team from losing a member….
“Faye,” Monty called out, “that is not the winning rabbit. The judges are telling me you’ve found a donkey.”
“A what?” Faye turned the stuffed animal around and looked at it as if it had just spoken to her itself. “That’s no donkey! How is that a donkey?”
Sue barked out a gleeful laugh and dove back into searching while Faye was still stunned by the revelation that the long-eared toy in her hand was not, in fact, a rabbit. “Ha!” Muriel said. “Look at the tail! It’s got a little donkey string-tail!”
Faye flung down the purple donkey so hard it bounced.
“Go, Sue!” Muriel called out, and Ricardo and Bev joined in. “Go, Sue! Go, Sue! You can find it, Sue!” And the Red Team began cheering, too—although it had not occurred to them to do so until they heard it start in the Gold Team. Everyone was shouting. Hats were flying—and giraffes and bumble bees and even a smiling hot dog—until finally Sue surged to her feet, held a fuzzy pink animal high, and shrieked, “Is this it? Is this the rabbit?”
From the tip of its long ears to the end of its cotton tail, it sure looked like it was. Faye reached into one more hat (pulling out a stuffed guitar) as if she figured she should keep on searching, just in case, but the look on her face told Ricardo what Monty finally confirmed just a moment later. “That is indeed the elusive rabbit, Sue. Congratulations. Gold Team wins the second round of this challenge.”
For just a moment, Ricardo was elated. But once the floor was cleared of hats and covered instead with silver rings, he somehow registered that he was hearing his own name…and that the time had come for him to face his signature props.
“Ricardo the Magnificent,” Monty said, in that dazzling accent of his, “why have you chosen to represent the Gold Team in the Linking Ring portion of the Four Props Challenge?”
Against John, no doubt. Against Professor fucking Topaz. His idol. Jesus. Who he would need to try and beat. Now he knew how dumbass Kevin Kazan felt when he got Fabian Swan eliminated. Ricardo swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat stayed exactly where it was. Was it possible to forfeit? No, he couldn’t do that. He owed it to Bev and Muriel and Sue to win. But it was what he wanted to do—crawl away and go back to working bachelorette parties and be tipped with singles in his g-string and the occasional margarita.
“Hello?” Iain called out. “Answer the man…sometime today.”
“Uh…what was the question?”
Iain made a “go ahead” signal, and Monty repeated, “Why have you chosen to represent the Gold Team in the Linking Ring portion of the Four Props challenge?”
“Linking rings are my best trick, Monty. I’ve been juggling them ever since I was twelve. When I heard there was a ring challenge, I jumped at the chance.”
“Fair enough, Ricardo. You’ll have your chance to prove just how adept you are at handling the rings. And the Red Team player you’ll be pitting your prowess against—”
I think I’d prefer to die rather than hear you say it. Can that be arranged?
“—is Jia Lee.”
Chapter 24
RINGS AND SILKS
Ricardo couldn’t have been more stunned if Monty had marched up and bitch-slapped him.
“Are you okay?” Sue whispered. “Iain just said for you to go stand on your mark.”
Ricardo stood. His feet felt numb. His hands, too. And he wasn’t sure he remembered exactly how to breathe.
Jia waited for him at the gaffing tape X. Although she was just over five feet tall, she managed to look a foot taller, imperious and stern. Ricardo belatedly reminded himself that his stretchy outfit wouldn’t allow for sloppy posture, and he squared his shoulders as he tried not to be too obvious about swallowing past the lump that remained in his throat.
“Miss Lee,” Monty said, “you’re known for taking the traditional acts of magicians like Ching Ling Foo and Tchin-Chao, and performing them with a modern twist. Even today, these rings are sometimes called Chinese Linking Rings. Do you think that will give you any advantage?”
Jia stared at Monty coolly for a long moment, and then said, “I guess we’re going to find out.”
Ricardo looked at Jia, and then at the rings. And then he realized that she had a linking ring routine in her own wildly popular act, Apple Blossom Vanish.
And she was good.
“Magicians, you will have three minutes to see exactly how many of these rings you can link together. But to make things a little more interesting….”
No—I don’t want interesting. I want to perform with my linking rings!
“You’ll do it…wearing mittens.”
Ricardo attempted to smile gamely for the camera…but he simply couldn’t do it. Early on in the competition, he’d told Amazing Faye that Magic Ma
nsion had nothing to do with talent. It was about spectacle. But now, as he truly felt that sentiment deep in his gut, his disappointment was overwhelming.
Maybe Faye had been right. Maybe it really was all about humiliation, so the viewers could bask in their schadenfreude as they picked each magician off, one by one.
As the thought crossed his mind, he heard the minuscule whir of a handheld lens zooming, and he felt someone lurking just to his side. Closeup. He forced himself to smile.
Assistants brought out the fleece mittens—one gold pair and one red—and Ricardo and Jia were positioned face to face in the center of a great spread of silvery rings. And even as Ricardo was balking at the thought of groping through them with ridiculous mittens on, as well as the cameras and the humiliation and the pressure (and the strangely sickening relief that he was not actually competing against John after all, at least not today)…Ricardo realized that he could feel something.
Cool. Round. Shiny. Filled with that delightful chimey sound they’d make if he struck them together.
Their familiarity calmed him. And so he was able to meet Jia’s eyes, and wait for the signal.
“Ready? Set?” The buzzer bleated. “Go!”
Jia and Ricardo both dropped to their knees. It hurt when his kneecap struck metal. He ignored the pain.
The whole trick of linking rings was that some had a small slot in them that allowed another ring to pass through. No big surprise there. The pleasure the audience took when they watched a linking rings act was all about the performance. They knew there was a slot somewhere, probably covered by the performer’s thumb, but they were willing to suspend disbelief as long as that performer could juggle, or do handstands, or dazzle them with witty banter, or mince around in high enough heels.
Ricardo always focused on his slotted rings rather than his solids. Knowing where the gap was positioned at all times was critical in keeping the chain from falling apart. Slotted, he thought, and the first ring his mittened hand fell on was slotted. It took three tries to pick it up with the fleece mitten—that thing was slippery—but he did it. Slotted. Then he grabbed two solid rings, forced them in, and pulled them to either side so the slotted ring was in the center.
He looked up. Jia had four rings linked already.
Slotted! Again, he found the correct type of ring immediately, but needed to try multiple times to grasp it.
“So, linking rings are your big thing,” Jia said, “huh?”
Why was she talking?
“Are you scared I’m going to use my ancient Chinese secret on you?”
Did she know Ricardo was talking to the rings, and she was deliberately trying to throw him off? He grabbed at a solid ring several times, then looked up to see if she was still ahead of him. She was—now by two rings.
“I’m not even very fond of the trick,” Jia said. “It’s kind of obvious, when you think about it—but it is tradition. Have you seen my act?”
“Yes.” Ricardo pawed desperately at a ring, then linked them as quickly as possible. “It was great.”
“Thanks. You know why it’s so popular?”
Ricardo linked another ring, and then looked up, expecting to see Jia ahead now by three. Instead, he saw why she was linking circles around him. She had hung her ring-chain from the crook of her elbow, and was using two hands to pick up the ring, one to push down one side of the ring so the other side popped up, and then the other hand to actually grab it. “Because you’re good?”
“Because I’m the only female Chinese conjurer on the whole circuit. That’s why.”
Ricardo popped a slotted ring up on one side and grabbed hold of it in a single try. Much better. He began linking as quickly as Jia.
“The first week-long engagement I ever landed, you know what the promoter said to me?” Jia slammed two rings together with a chime. “That maybe I should turn up my accent a little.” She grabbed another and shoved it onto her chain. “I don’t have an accent.” Another ring. “And I’m sure as hell not going to put one on like Margaret Cho when she’s making fun of her mother on Comedy Central.”
Ricardo’s chain was now trailing along behind him. He added a ring. “So…you want to be known as a good magician. Not just a Chinese magician.”
“You don’t get it—I’ll always be a Chinese magician. At least here, in America. That’s all I will ever be.” Jia linked another ring. “If I went to China, I’d probably be known as the American magician.”
Ricardo’s concentration slipped, and he felt his chain grow lighter. He looked, and three rings at the end of the chain had slipped the slot and fallen off. Should he grab the three rings together and add them back on? He didn’t know. The rules hadn’t specified whether he could pick up more than one ring at a time or not. And after Bev getting disqualified with the one-in-a-thousand twelve-inch wand in her hand, he wasn’t about to tempt fate. He just needed to work faster and keep his focus.
“Maybe I grew up in Oakland and maybe I don’t have an accent,” Jia said, “but I’m still proud of my heritage. So I don’t do a Chinese conjurer act just because I’m Chinese.”
I can’t lose another ring. Please, please, please stick together. Ricardo sent the thought urgently as he linked another ring, and the timer ticked down to the last ten seconds.
Jia’s rings chimed. “Because if I don’t do the act and do it with dignity, with pride, someone else is going to come along and exploit themselves for the novelty. I need to be so good that no one would even bother trying to imitate me.”
Apple Blossom Vanish had stuck with Ricardo for days afterward. And, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he’d even felt somewhat envious that Jia (who was ten years younger than him) had such an elaborate set and gorgeous costumes. But he’d never once questioned that she deserved them. Because she really was that good.
“And that,” Jia said, as the last seconds slipped away, “is why I need to win.”
The buzzer sounded. Ricardo tried to see how long Jia’s chain of linking rings stretched, but it was impossible to discern which were linked, and which weren’t, among all the other rings on the floor.
“Magicians,” Monty said, “You may take off your mittens. It’s time to see how you scored. Holding only the last ring in your chain, you will step away from the linking area. When the final ring clears the other unlinked rings, you’ll be told to stop. Ricardo the Magnificent?”
Ricardo nodded. His knees felt shaky and his wounded tongue tasted like raw liver. But when he pulled off the stupid mittens and touched the bare metal, he felt a tingle. A connection. A joy.
“Step forward.”
Please hold together.
Though he had the advantage of being able to talk to the rings, Ricardo walked slowly, deliberately, aware that with every step, he faced the possibility of one of the rings snagging on the pile, and a slot turning and aligning with its neighboring ring, and a big hunk of his chain dropping right off.
Please hold together.
“Stop,” Monty said, and Ricardo froze. He looked back over his shoulder—carefully, moving only his head—and saw his chain of linking rings extended several yards back before it ended just at the edge of the remaining unlinked rings. “Jia Lee? Step forward.”
Taking her cue from Ricardo, Jia stepped out of the ring pile with excruciating slowness and grace. She might not have had any choice but to embrace her roots and play the role of “Chinese conjurer,” but seeing her there in her black halter dress and Geisha-inspired makeup, Ricardo had to admit: she damn well played the hand she’d been dealt for all she was worth. And if she ever wanted to retire from magic…she’d make a kick-ass Bond villain.
Closer, she stepped. One pace. And another. And just as Ricardo realized, numbly, that she might keep on walking—she drew abreast of him, and Monty said, “Stop.”
“Okay, kids,” Iain called out, “stand still. We’ll have the official counters in and out before you know it.”
Ricardo listened to his pulse p
ounding in his ears as the chains were counted and then double-checked. If they were being that careful…the score must be close. Horribly close.
After approximately forever, Iain called out, “Got your numbers, Monty? Okay, go ahead.”
“Jia Lee. In three minutes, you’ve managed to link thirty-eight rings. Unfortunately, four of those rings slipped off the end of your chain as you walked out of the linking area, which leaves you with thirty-four. Will that be enough to clinch this part of the challenge for the Red Team?
“Ricardo the Magnificent, you lost a few rings early on in the challenge. Did you manage to keep enough together to beat Jia’s score?
“The tally is in. Ricardo, your final score is…thirty-six rings. Gold Team has won the linking ring phase of the Four Props Challenge!”
Ricardo was aware, numbly, of cameras scrambling and his teammates cheering as he rejoined his team. He wanted to be happy. But mostly he was so overwhelmed, he just wanted to vomit.
___
“You know you got to win this one,” Kevin told John, “if you want to stay on the show.”
John sat on the red sofa, back straight, legs crossed. He kept his eyes on the assistants clearing the rings, and didn’t respond. After Kevin’s middle-of-the-night accusation following the Wand Pond, whether he realized John had heard it or not, it seemed silly to reward him with anything more than the most minimal civility. It felt liberating, in a way, to be able to stop pretending he thought Kevin was anything more than an odious little punk.
“’Cuz if Red Team loses this challenge,” Kevin went on, “and the home audience gotta vote someone off it, and I’m immune ’cuz I won my round…who you think they gonna pick? One of them foxy babes? Or you?”
John kept looking straight ahead. If there’s anything that makes a heckler crazy, Casey used to say, it’s when you don’t even notice they exist. While John wasn’t exactly shocked that a member of his own team had turned on him, he was a bit surprised it had happened so soon.
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