The Real Thing

by Marina Simcoe

  Several weeks ago, for the first time ever, he came up with an act that was all his own!

  His new closing act that he named Phoenix was his tribute to the girl in the red dress. He planned and produced it himself, taking great care to create a truly magical experience for his viewers without exposing his secret, and he was immensely proud of the result. He didn’t need the rave reviews praising his work that came out the morning after the debut to know that it was good, very good, but he desperately wished that she had a chance to see it.

  An idea came into his head and made him smile as he added to his text to Simon on impulse.

  See what it takes for me to have a show in Toronto.

  It was a long shot, but he would make it easier for her to attend his performance by bringing it to her hometown. He butchered their last conversation, but maybe he could still get a chance to have another one?

  All he wanted was another chance to talk! He, the man who could have everything, simply wished for another chance to have a conversation with the girl in the red dress. Surely, it wasn’t such a big thing to ask for.

  8. Make it Happen.

  “Hey, listen, I need to ask you something.” Evan was on the other end of my office line.

  “Make it quick. I think I can hear Barb’s voice in the hallway. She only comes in our cubicle maze when she needs something from me.”

  “Do you remember Marcus, the magician we saw in New York?”

  It was October, and my obsession with him was effectively gone by now. I hardly watched any of his videos anymore, and if you opened my laptop at any given time, his picture was no longer the first one to greet you.

  So why then did my heart drop straight down into my purple pumps when Evan simply mentioned his name?

  “Yes, I do. Why?”

  “You know, he’s really big now? He’s got a Vegas show and stopped touring.”

  “Okay,” I whispered and rubbed my arm with the hand that wasn’t holding the receiver. I could feel the air-conditioned chill of the bus again, mixed with the warm smell of leather and man.

  “Well, guess what? He’s coming to Toronto! For one show only. This Sunday. Very short notice. I have no idea how he’ll pull it off.”

  “He will.”

  “He’s using all local crew. Who does that? For a magic show? Anyway, I’m going to be working the stage during his performance!”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah! I’m psyched! I’ll get to know all his secrets.”

  “You won’t.”

  “And guess what?” Evan’s enthusiasm was boundless; he paid no attention to my replies. “My boss gave me a free ticket for Lily, but she has a big meeting on Monday morning and wants to get ready for it on Sunday. You know how she is.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you wanna come?”

  “What?”

  Was this for real?

  “To see his show? Do. You. Want. To come. To his show?” Evan repeated deliberately slow, exaggerating the pronunciation of each syllable as if talking to a mentally impaired person.

  “Yes. I. Do,” I said slowly too, mimicking him.

  “Cool!” He was too excited to notice my teasing. “It starts at 7:00 pm. I’ll meet you in the front at 6:30 with the ticket.”

  Effervescent waves of excitement washed over me as I hung up the phone.

  I was scheduled to work a full-day shift at the shoe store on Sunday. It was too late to get out of it, and I had no hours to trade with anyone because I already worked every available hour I had, but I was sure that I would lie, steal and kill if that was what I had to do to get to that show on Sunday.

  ***

  Marcus listened to the music carefully, waiting for his cue to appear on stage of the Royal Alexandra Theater in Toronto to start his show.

  The heavy red velvet of the chairs and curtains and the ornate gilded balconies held the charm of old times, different from the glitter of Las Vegas. Even the air smelled old and musty, like in an antiques store. Marcus had the odd feeling that his magic was a perfect fit with the theater.

  The place had double the capacity of the venue where he performed in Vegas. Nevertheless, it was packed with people. A miracle on its own since there was practically no time for advertising.

  Simon turned out to be the true magician here since he actually managed to pull it off at the very last minute. After Marcus sent him the text that night, Simon showed up in his hotel suite precisely one minute after noon the following day.

  “Is there anything I need to know,” he demanded, for the first time ever breaking the unspoken rule of not asking questions. “Do you seriously want to do a show in Toronto?”

  “Yes.” After spending a morning at the ranch house, Marcus felt more relaxed and collected than the night before. The painful burn of restless energy had gone, and he enjoyed the temporary relief. Having a show in Toronto still seemed like a good idea, though.

  “It won’t be easy, Marcus. More like — impossible.” Simon didn’t sound pleased at all. He hated to lose money. “It will cost us an arm and a leg, no matter how you look at it. That is even if your contract lets us do anything outside of Vegas at all!”

  “I’ll do it during my week off.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You have a contract. You can’t perform outside of the hotel venue. I had to negotiate hard to allow for your occasional street acts, remember?”

  “I’ll stop the street acts if that’s what it takes!” Frustrated, Marcus plopped down into the armchair in the living area on the main floor of his suite.

  “That’s not the point, Marcus. I know you need to get out on the streets sometimes, so I made sure it was there when the contract was drawn up. A show in Toronto is something else entirely!”

  “Are you telling me you won’t do it? Or you can’t?” Marcus asked slyly. Years of living on the road together, cramped in an old van, made them learn each other’s weaknesses well enough for Marcus to know exactly what buttons to push to get his way.

  Simon exhaled heavily. He hated to admit that he couldn’t do something. He hated it possibly even more than losing money.

  “What is it all about, Marcus? You can’t expect me to make something like this happen — considering the expense, not to mention the logistics of it all — and not provide any explanation. Is something going on with you? Are you getting restless, staying in this city for so long? Do you need a break or something?”

  Marcus sighed and scratched his cheek just below the mask. By now, it must have been at least three years since Simon saw his face uncovered. Lately, Marcus found that he spent more time having the mask on than having it off. It felt easier just to keep the mask on in front of everyone to avoid making a mistake by removing it in front of the wrong person.

  Beyond habit, wearing the mask also provided him with the chance of remaining anonymous off-stage when he wished. He didn’t risk taking it off in Vegas but he enjoyed sunshine on his face when he went for an afternoon walk in Paris or visited a zoo in Berlin, for example. All he had to do to avoid unnecessary attention was to go out without the mask and mix in with the crowd unrecognized.

  Admitting to Simon that the girl in the red dress was the reason for the Toronto show felt like exposing too much of himself, not unlike removing the mask. He was afraid that Simon wouldn’t find her a compelling enough reason to go through all the trouble of planning and organizing a show, and would just laugh and brush him off.

  Marcus had known Simon for much longer than most people realized. The very first time they met, they both were in middle school. Simon was older than Marcus by over a year and lived a few doors down from Marcus’s foster home at that time. Marcus ended up staying only a few months in that foster home before being moved to another one and then to a series of others, all across the county.

  He didn’t see Simon again until a few years later. Marcus was in high school by then and had already started his parking lot magic acts.

  Even then, he covered his face wi
th a version of a mask. At first, the anonymity that it provided helped him fight the initial stage fright. Then, he found that people didn’t expect him to talk when he hid behind it. With the mask, he could be the silent, mysterious magician, who performed without saying a word. This way, he could also ignore most of the inappropriate remarks and rude comments made by the parking lot crowds and just focus on his magic.

  Because magic was the only thing that he could do to earn an honest living.

  He never did well in school. Moving at least once a year didn’t exactly facilitate his academic achievements. It was a miracle that he graduated high school at all.

  Simon caught his performance at a gas station. Because of the mask, he didn’t recognize Marcus right away, but Simon was just the right mix of bold and practical to realize the potential of what the two of them could do together.

  “If you’re getting a cabin fever,” Simon continued, “go somewhere nice for your next week off. Why do you need a show in Toronto?” He sat down on the couch, put his feet on the coffee table in front of him and crossed his arms on his chest, demonstrating that he was not moving until he got his answer.

  Whatever the personal motives of his loyalty were, even if it was only money, Simon had been there for Marcus through the years. At the very least, Marcus decided, Simon deserved an honest answer to the only question he ever asked. At the end of the day, Simon was just crazy enough to handle it.

  “I want to find a girl.” Marcus leaned back in his chair and put his bare feet next to Simon’s shiny Italian loafers on the coffee table.

  “A girl?”

  “She’s from Toronto. And she is more likely to come to the show if I gave one in her city.” It did sound crazy, even more so when he said it out loud.

  “All this to find a girl?” Simon narrowed his eyes at Marcus, searching for ulterior motives on his face. “Wait a second! Is it the same girl I had to do a security search on? The one at Bellagio?”

  “Yes. I just want to talk to her.”

  Simon didn’t scream, laugh, or swear as could have been expected. Instead, he leaned back on the couch and put his hands behind his head, being silent for a minute.

  “What happens if you don’t find her?” he asked finally.

  “Nothing. I’ll do the show and come back to Vegas.”

  “Okay. Fine,” Simon nodded quickly. Too quickly — Marcus couldn’t believe he agreed so fast. “I don’t promise anything. It will be a shitload of work, man! But I’ll see what I can do.”

  Simon got up from the couch and straightened the perfect creases on the pants of his custom-made suit. He made it all the way to the door when he paused and asked over his shoulder.

  “What happens if you do find her?”

  Marcus smiled and answered honestly, “I have no idea.”

  9. The Show.

  I didn’t end up having to steal or kill to be here. Thank goodness!

  I did, however, have to lie to my store manager to make her let me get off work one hour early on Sunday. I made up a shameless lie about my landlord calling me with news of a flood in my apartment. As sweet as she was, my manager let me go immediately, with genuine concern on her face. Something I would feel forever guilty for doing. Something I would definitely have to answer for in front of Heaven’s gate if I ever made it there. Something I would do again if I had to, just to be here right now!

  My seat was right in the middle of the orchestra. It wasn’t the first row but still close enough to the stage to see everything perfectly. I couldn’t remember the last time I was at a movie, let alone a show or a play. It was so exciting! Guilt moved to the background as soon as the first strains of music began, and I focused on the stage in front of me.

  My skin buzzed with happy anticipation for the beautiful show. And the show proved to be truly spectacular! The music was fantastic. The lighting effects were as mesmerizing as the latest technology would allow them to be.

  Marcus emerged dramatically from a cloud of smoke and sparks of fire. He unwrapped the black silk cape from around his shoulders and waved it around the stage like a true illusionist.

  In fact, he did most of the acts that the other illusionists had done before him. The main difference I noticed was that he didn’t use assistants for any of the acts. Sure, there were beautiful showgirls walking around, carrying props and handing him things, but none of them was actually a part of the act.

  Marcus had a number of animals that he used in place of human assistants: he made an African elephant disappear with a wave of his cape; he had Siberian tigers escape from locked cages in plain view; and he used a full-size live horse instead of a person in the classic act of sawing a person in half.

  The horse didn’t appear fazed by being sawed in two halves. He happily chewed on the apple that showgirls fed to his front half, even as his other half swished its tail from the opposite side of the stage. He waited patiently until Marcus reunited the two halves. The horse then trotted back and forth across the stage to demonstrate that he was well and healthy as could be!

  During the show, the excitement didn’t leave me. I watched Marcus work the stage, his movements and gestures still so familiar to me.

  I was happy to have moved on since Las Vegas. My obsession with Marcus had been draining, unproductive, and even physically exhausting when I stayed up late watching videos and trying to figure out the mystery that was Marcus the Magnificent.

  Now, however, watching him live on stage was like having an old friend come for a visit after a long absence. It felt nice, more than nice, and I enjoyed the feeling.

  The lights dimmed suddenly, and I felt a pang of disappointment. Was it over already? The show seemed too short, and I didn’t want it to end.

  The music then changed to a slow, foreboding melody, and I realized that something was still about to happen.

  The stage was now completely shrouded in darkness and the rest of the theater, including the audience, felt like an extension of the stage. In the suddenly menacing atmosphere, even my seat no longer felt safe. The air was cold, filled with a moldy smell of a crypt compounded with the smoke of burning candles. Indeed, black chandeliers with real candles lowered from the ceiling of the theater. Two of them lit up on the opposite ends of the stage, the light from the thick melting candles in their twisted wiry arms provided the only light.

  An eerie chill swept through the theater, rustling the wisps of cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the chandeliers. Dark shadows moved in from every corner of the theater, like an army of undead closing in on life itself.

  “Oh, my goodness, this is so creepy!” an elderly woman sitting next to me said to no one in particular.

  A dark figure — a mere shadow in the candlelight — slowly moved from the side curtain. Then a pale green spotlight went on to illuminate Marcus as he walked across the stage.

  He wore his usual black leather pants and boots, but now he also had on a long black silk coat that opened in the front, baring his toned chest and abs. The coat trailed behind him in an endless train as he slowly approached a tall arch erected in the middle of the stage.

  Marcus came up to one of the columns from inside the arch and, without stopping, placed his foot on the inner side of it. Just as slowly, he put his other foot on the side of the column too. His body shifted in the position parallel to the floor and his coat hung straight down from his shoulders now, held by the sleeves.

  I shivered in the cold air of the theater and rubbed my arms through the long sleeves of my dress absentmindedly as my eyes remained glued to the dark figure moving up the side of the arch.

  He reached the top and stopped in the centre where he hung upside down like a bat, connected to the underside of the top of the arch only by the soles of his boots. He spread his arms wide, and his black silk coat draped from his shoulders all the way to the ground, like a long sail of a ship lost in the vast, deadly ocean.

  In the semi-darkness of the stage, the pale skin of his bare torso glowed, illuminated b
y the greenish spotlight. The black mane of his hair blended with the silk of his coat.

  Marcus moved his arms down and clasped his hands together below his head, pointing them straight to the floor. The coat closed, enveloping his head and shoulders like a cocoon.

  It looked odd, grotesque, but graceful and beautiful at the same time — a long line of a man’s body and silk, extending from the ceiling all the way to the floor.

  In a moment, a warm wave caressed my face as it spread through the theater and chased the graveyard chill away. The music picked up, filling the room with glorious symphony.

  A faint glow shimmered from the cocoon that enclosed Marcus’s face and arms, and then his silk coat split open in the middle, emitting rays of bright light that flooded the theater, blinding me after the gloomy semi-darkness moments earlier. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them again, my breath caught in my chest from the magical beauty in front of me.

  Marcus twisted in the air and was now upright, levitating in the centre of the stage, held up by a pair of the most magnificent golden wings!

  They were enormous, open wide and spread all the way across the stage. Instead of feathers, brilliant rays of orange, red, and yellow light ran along the surface of the wings like tendrils of liquid fire. Shimmering waves radiated from Marcus to the outer edges of the wings, making them appear to be living, breathing creatures on their own.

  Marcus’s clothes changed too. Barefoot and bare-chested, he only wore a pair of loose, gold-coloured pants, and his black mask turned the colour of ancient gold as well.

  The magical music of the symphony continued to play around us, adding to the feeling of wonder.

  “Wow!” I heard the older woman next to me exhale in awe.

  “Wow…” I breathed out myself and realized that I had my mouth open the whole time.