Celebromancy

by Michael R. Underwood

  And if they were, what did that mean for fans?

  Ree filed that away for later consideration.

  One thing for sure: Being a magician and a minor celebrity would put her on the radar for various practitioners around town. Ree had no idea what part of the magical underground in Pearson was in control of the clubs, if any of them were.

  As far as she could tell, the real world wasn’t like in World of Darkness, where supernaturals owned the entire city. But she was certain the big-time practitioners had their fingers in many pies.

  Danny may be the bodyguard, but if something comes along from the hinkyverse, it would be up to Ree to intercede.

  Chapter Five

  They Can Have Their Diamonds

  CATFIGHT IN THE TWITTERSPHERE!

  In an uncharacteristic display, critical darling Jane Konrad showed her claws on Twitter this morning, laying into superstar Rachel MacKenzie, calling her a “money-grubbing studio slave.” MacKenzie responded, calling the ex–Cosmic Studios’ star a “washed-up former child actress” who was “looking to steal the spotlight.”

  The spat was quickly tagged #DivaFight, which trended worldwide throughout the day.

  Neither star has released an official statement about the argument.

  —Plugged.com, March 3, 2009

  Infinity Club was three stories tall and was identified only by the ten-foot-wide infinity-symbol light that flowed and shifted across the colors of the rainbow. Even muted by the doors, the music and feel of bass thumped on Ree’s sternum and called to her. The busy smell of perfumes and colognes wafted through the spring breeze, hitting Ree’s nose all at once as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

  Infinity Club wasn’t the biggest, most exclusive, or expensive club in Pearson, but it was at least #2 or #3 in each category. Ree had only been there once, a couple of years back, before it made its reputation. Priya had been showing pieces from her first Steampunk clothing line at a local fashion show, and they’d gone out afterward to celebrate.

  Infinity had been cool then, but it had been an outsider cool, the kind that said I know I’m not cool by your standards, but I don’t give a crap. Jane ignored the large crowd waiting behind the velvet rope, hip youngsters pleading with the six-foot-twenty bouncer.

  “It’s Jane Konrad!” someone shouted, and the jig was up. The crowd whipped itself into a froth faster than Ree could pour a pint, people shouting Jane’s name and waving. Dozens broke out of line to rush her, but Danny stopped them. His wingspan wasn’t even six feet, but he could have kept them all at bay with the force of his stare.

  Ree felt the energy of the crowd like a gust of wind in her face. Not just the sound, but the feeling.

  Magic senses tingling! She’d felt magic a few times since picking up the lightsaber and becoming a Geekomancer, experiencing various styles’ different flavors. The magic sense was always synesthetic, reminding her of the smell of purple or the taste of police sirens.

  The question was: Was there someone using magic—a lot of it—or was this just raw energy of the fans’ excitement, and just felt like magic?

  Ree’s question was answered as she looked over to Jane, who stopped, smiled, and pulled off her sunglasses. Beaming like she was professionally lit, her features became warmer as Ree watched. Ree blinked. It was like someone had taken Jane and turned her up to 11: her energy, her smile, the smoothness of her features, the shape of her curves.

  For a second, Ree doubted herself, wondered if she’d been mistaken, that Jane had made herself up already, and she was just beaming with the attention. Because . . . damn.

  Wait. Ree paused to look around the crowd, which had locked onto Jane like she was a living oasis. She felt and saw the energy flowing from the fans to Jane, then an energy rolling out, creating a feedback loop. If this wasn’t magic, she’d eat a week-old burger. And if Jane was using magic, then there was likely a lot more going on that no one had bothered telling her.

  Ree looked around to people on the edge of the scene. Did anyone else notice what happened, or does the Doubt cover it up? The Doubt, Ree had discovered, was a magical force of disbelief that helped keep the magical world under wraps. But once you were in the magical world, the Doubt rolled off you like pop-up ads off a digital native. It shouldn’t be affecting her. But if it’s not the Doubt, what gives?

  Ree crossed her arms and stood by, watching the scene playing out. How is she doing this? Ree knew a few styles that made a glamour, but which one?

  Ree wished she could just text Eastwood to ask. But that would be crossing a line in their already-too-murky relationship. Instead, she made a note to do some research on the matter.

  Jane approached the crowd, produced a pen from somewhere, and started signing whatever she was handed. Danny kept the crowd from trampling her, but just barely. They broke around him in ones and twos, raised voices and strained hands seeking a chance to connect with a living legend.

  Farther back in the crowd, Ree heard some jeers, some filthy epithets. Not everyone loved her, especially not lately. But the true fans had beaten them to the punch, at least this time.

  After a few moments, the bouncers waded into the insta-mob, making a wedge that funneled people back toward the club. The six-foot-twenty guy wove through the crowd and plucked out the hecklers, pointing them to the back of the line.

  One of the bouncers approached Jane, saying, “Ms. Konrad, if you’d like to come with me . . .”

  Jane lingered for a few moments, signed another couple of hands, napkins, and even a shoulder then nodded to Danny, who covered her as she walked to the door. Ree saw a dozen smartphones up, some snapping pictures, others doubtlessly tweeting up a storm. She imagined what they would say:

  OMG Jane Konrad @InfinityClub!

  J-Rad about to get smashed again @InfinityClub

  Who’s the hot chick with J-Rad?

  Well, maybe not that last one.

  And when those tweets hit the gossip circles, Infinity Club was about to get a lot more crowded.

  Jane extended her arm to Ree, and she joined the star as they walked inside.

  “How often do you get mobbed like that?” Ree asked.

  “A couple times a day back in L.A., depending on how incognito I go. Sometimes it’s fun to just soak it all in.”

  I bet it is, Ree thought, looking at the still-charged star. Confidence rolled off of her like radiation. It was all Ree could do to not just stop and stare. Now that she’d pegged Jane’s magnetism as magic, she couldn’t not see it. She held in a knowing smile.

  Infinity had one main dance floor, with a sixty-foot-long infinity symbol beneath the reinforced glass. It changed colors through the rainbow like the symbol on the outside, in sync with lights from the side walls, which cast the whole room in a shifting array of color.

  The floor was half-full, most of the dancers clustered in a circle above the X-cross of the floor symbol. The air was cool and clean, missing the trademark musk she expected from smaller or less super-over-air-conditioned clubs. Ree couldn’t place the music, but she could feel it, heavy bass reverberating off her sternum. Jane pulled her by the hand as she cut a corner of the dance floor to pick a booth decked out in crushed velvet, with a table that looked like crystal but was probably made from heavy plastic. Infinity wasn’t that ritzy.

  A pretty server on three-inch heels intercepted them as Jane set her purse down on the cushion. The woman looked closer to sixteen than twenty-one, but a bar like Infinity wouldn’t be stupid enough to tempt Excise like that. She had clean dreadlocks, several done in the signature style of the club, braided on the back of her head with another infinity symbol and a matching pin. She wore a silver sequined dress that was long enough to be respectable but short enough to be intriguing.

  As she approached, Ree noticed that the woman looked nervous, fingers fidgeting by her side. “Welcome, Ms. Konrad. I’m Lacey, and I’l
l be taking care of you tonight.”

  Jane greeted Lacey with a slight inclination of her head. She purred her response. “Hello, Lacey. This is Ree, and you should treat her the same way you’d treat me. Let’s start with a bottle of Grey Goose and see where that takes us.”

  Lacey nodded, then looked to Ree. “Welcome. Please let me know if you need anything tonight.”

  After Lacey left, Ree raised an eyebrow. “They work all night in heels like that? My calves would murder me if I tried that.”

  Jane shrugged. “If they couldn’t hack it, they’d work somewhere else. You pay a price to get to the top, but once you’re there . . .” Jane extended her arms to the club, indicating her proof.

  “What happened to not going overboard tonight?” Ree asked, returning to the star’s earlier warning.

  Jane leaned back and spread her arms out on the couch. “If it’s too much, you can always go home.” Jane winked, then leaned over to adjust the strap on one shoe, giving Ree just a bit of a look down the star’s shirt.

  Is it hot in here? a voice in her mind asked mockingly. Jane stood back up and turned, walking to the dance floor. Jane looked over her shoulder, hair catching in the light. The star beckoned Ree to the floor.

  Another voice answered, presenting the eternal dilemma of the queer girl: Is she actually hitting on me?

  Jane had been romantically linked to women before, but she was also notoriously friendly with everyone, and flirty enough for the tabloids to speculate endlessly.

  It’s just dancing, she told herself, heading for the floor. I’ll be fine if I keep ahead of the booze.

  Another internal voice, this one contrary, said, She ordered a bottle. Are you going to drink a forty of water to stay on ahead of the booze?

  Ree laughed at the notion, imagining the dozen restroom trips that would require.

  On the floor, Ree was reminded of the clubs from the Mass Effect series. This one had a distinct lack of war-like lizard-cricket people and blue-skinned aliens.

  However, it did have ample supplies of neon, flashing lights, and crowds of dancers gyrating with planted feet. She hadn’t been clubbing much, unless you counted Vampire LARPs. Bars were one thing: a good night out at Trollope’s Trollops with the Rhyming Ladies, a few pitchers, and some good conversation. But even when you weren’t pretending to be a fangy child of the night, clubs were really only good for three things: Drinking, Dancing, and the Hook-Up.

  Jane grinned as Ree joined her on the floor, dropping to a low crouch and standing slowly, her arms stretching to the ceiling as she rose, locking Ree in her gaze the whole time.

  Ree rocked back and forth for a few measures, testing out the music and sinking into the feel of the dance. Then she matched Jane, the two circling each other, trading moves, looks, and grins as they went. The crowd parted around them, and Ree heard a rising burble of murmurs as people took note of the star.

  For a short while, Ree pushed all of the worry, self-consciousness, and uncertainty to the back of her mind, diving deep into the glorious oblivion of music and motion.

  Two songs later, Jane wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow and walked back to the booth, where a bottle of Grey Goose in a silver iced bucket awaited them, along with two highball glasses. Lacey stood off to the side, waiting for them as they returned.

  VIP service doesn’t suck, Ree thought. Lacey was a heavy pour, and handed each of them a glass that must have held four regulation shots apiece. She was calmer this time. Maybe she’d taken a drink of her own, or the bout of starstruck-itude had simply passed.

  Jane raised the glass to Ree. “To Awakenings.”

  Ree toasted, then took a shot from the glass. As Ree lowered her glass, Jane’s was already half-empty, resting on the table. Ree flashed back to the star’s very public DUIs and Drunk & Disorderly charges. It’d be up to her and Danny to keep Jane from going down that rabbit hole again.

  Jane leaned back into the couch, resuming her leonine lounge and projecting her voice over the thumping bass. “What’s your favorite novel?”

  Ree could smell the star’s perfume, which had settled into a new note: chocolate and chile, poured over something musky and enticing.

  “Dune,” Ree said, after a beat. Not because she had to decide, mind you. She’d had to defend her literature preferences to boyfriends, customers at Café Xombi, and film agents with oddly specific taste. She just hadn’t been expecting the question, especially given the setting.

  “It’s fantastic, isn’t it? I like my art with a punch, something real. I especially loved Children of Dune and God Emperor. I know they aren’t very popular in the sci-fi crowd, but I just adored Saint Alia of the Knife. And I love how Herbert shows us a religion forming in real time, around a leader with the force of personality to lead an entire people into the future, a leader that uses their fame for all of humanity, not just for themselves.”

  The drinks were forgotten as Ree listened, rapt.

  “But the power and the story he makes becomes a prison as well. He gets wrapped up in his own myth, trapped by the society he fought for millennia to create. He’s so trapped that in order to push humanity forward, he has to take himself out of the story.” Jane stopped, shaking her head as she looked up and out to the lights window. “It’s amazing.”

  Ree nodded, impressed. Woman knew her SF. “I could have done without the whole turning-into-a-worm part, but Alia is awesome. I was pleasantly surprised by the Sci-Fi miniseries they did.”

  “Anything to replace the David Lynch film in my brain,” Jane said with a toss of the hand. “I mean, the costumes and sets were amazing, but the editing was a travesty!”

  “I hear that,” Ree said. “What’s yours, then? God Emperor of Dune?”

  Jane raised her glass. “Right in one.” She made the ooh, ooh sound, and set the glass down rather than drinking. “But growing up, I was all about A Wizard of Earthsea. LeGuin writes like a dream. I got to meet her once, a few years back, when I was trying to get Yancy to remake The Lathe of Heaven.”

  Jane’s voice was softer, and Ree scooted forward, leaning in. “Really? What was she like?”

  “Sassy, kind, and too smart by half. I could barely keep up with her, and I came away with a to-be-read list as long as my arm.”

  Ree nodded her head vigorously. “I’d love to meet her. That fable she did about unemployment was such a fantastic kick-to-the-teeth. Nobody else could have written something so on the nose and gotten away with it.”

  Jane sat forward and put her hand over Ree’s, resting on the table. “Stick with me, and you’ll meet anyone you want. Plus, I know she’ll want to meet the next great social SF writer.”

  She’s definitely hitting on me, Ree decided. The sexy eyes, she could deal with. The look down the shirt at cream-clear breasts, well, that was hard. The dancing even more so. But the electric current that ran up her arm, her hand in Jane’s . . . that was something else.

  Will checks were something games never quite got right. When they come along, you really, really want to fail in the short-term, even if you know it might cause a giganto mess in the long-term. More of them should incentivize giving in to get the real sense across.

  But all of that rumination was just her trying to distract herself from the temptation.

  It’ll be fine, said a (horny) interior voice. You’re both grown-ups, and she’s surface-of-the-sun hot. Are you going to pass up an opportunity like this?

  She felt her heart pounding in time to the techno, and picked up her glass of vodka for an excuse to take a break from Jane’s spotlight of attention. Ree took a sip and saw something move through the light cast by the exit sign above a door.

  Granted, there were plenty of people moving around, but club patrons didn’t usually set off her personal Spider-sense, and this figure had.

  Ree stood, keeping an eye on the exit.

  “
I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing her leather jacket and setting off through the crowd. She was glad she’d stuck with her flats, even if it meant that Jane in heels was three inches taller than she was, which put her own head much closer to looking at her marvelous . . .

  Focus. Something’s hinky.

  Ree donned the jacket and surreptitiously pulled out the switchblade it held as she wove through tables and slinking club-goers. She hadn’t had time to power up with anything, and busting out her lightsaber in the club would be asking a lot of the Doubt. She scanned the crowd for whatever it was that was setting off her radar.

  She reached the exit and leaned up against the wall just to one side of the door. She scanned the room again, wishing she had a BTRS or tricorder or something other than intuition for threat assessment. But a night on the town didn’t exactly call for DEFCON-1 in terms of preparation.

  Danny emerged from behind a waiter and took a place beside her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. His tone was more intrigued than accusatory. She imagined cops in a world with supers might use the same tone when they came upon an unidentified hero at a crime scene.

  “I got a weird feeling.”

  Danny hrmed, nodding. “Me, too. You can go back to Jane; I’ll take care of it.”

  Ree shook her head. “You’re the bodyguard. I’ve got this.”

  Danny shifted his weight, evaluating her. “We could just call security.”

  Ree winked. “What fun would that be? But yeah, do that, too. They can be my backup.”

  “No offense, but if there’s something out there, what’s a skinny writer going to do about it?” Danny asked, a half-concerned, half-amused look on his face.

  “A skinny writer with two black belts and a switchblade can handle herself, thanks.” Ree held out the handle of her knife and looked Danny square in the eyes, trying to convey her martial-arts-y-ness like people did in kung fu movies.