The Real Thing

by Marina Simcoe

  Blow their minds like you blew mine, I told him once. It looked like he listened.

  Phoenix! That was what Marcus was portraying on stage for us: Phoenix, re-born from dead and ashes into fire and light.

  It felt like the magic itself radiated from the mystical human-bird suspended in the air in front of us, reaching everyone in the audience with a tangible, warm embrace. I felt connected to every soul in the theater at that moment, elated and happy, and everyone around me seemed to be as enchanted as I was.

  Slowly, the music faded away. Marcus lowered from the air and gracefully landed in the middle of the stage. His wings folded behind him into a golden shimmering cape, but the theater still remained completely quiet.

  Marcus approached the edge of the stage.

  “Hello, Toronto!” he called into the audience, throwing his arms up into the air. “How did you like the show?”

  As if waiting for his signal, the silence was torn to pieces, and the room erupted into screams and applause. The enthusiasm of the crowd was unstoppable! Everyone jumped off their seats, clapped their hands and screamed his name. I was convinced that he could start a cult following with one word right now if he only wanted!

  “I need a favour from you, Toronto!” Marcus shouted over the noise, and the ruckus in the theater subsided a little. “I’m looking for a girl.”

  Cheers erupted from the audience again, making Marcus smile. He actually smiled! In all my months of trailing his every move, looking at his photos and watching his videos, I never saw him so much as smirk. I also never saw him talk to the crowd during his performances. His whole stage image was this mysterious silent magician. Maybe he reserved a different persona for some of his stage performances? This was the first time I got to see him on an actual stage, after all.

  “She might be here tonight. She came to see me in Las Vegas once,” Marcus explained, “and started a conversation that I would love to continue. I don’t know her name…”

  A girl? Marcus wanted to see a girl for more than once! Even if it was simply to talk, as he claimed, it was definitely new and surprising to me.

  “What if she doesn’t want to be found?” somebody yelled out from the audience.

  “Fair enough,” Marcus agreed. “But she was the one who inspired my closing act tonight. At the very least, I need to ask her if she liked it. Will you help me find her?”

  The crowd cheered and clapped in excitement. Everyone was still high on his show, and no one wanted it to be over, welcoming the unexpected twist.

  A large screen appeared behind Marcus.

  “I want you to take a look at the person on your right and then at the person on your left and raise your hand if either one of them is a young woman in her twenties to early thirties.” A forest of arms rose from the audience, including the one of my elderly neighbour, who just smiled at me happily when I gave her a questioning look.

  Marcus is looking for a girl to finish a conversation they had started, the thought kept spinning in my head.

  I had seen him with numerous girls in the pictures before. I knew that his personal life was as bright and multicoloured as a patchwork quilt. Funny enough, it hadn’t bothered me that much to see him partying with all those girls. Now, when he was looking for a girl just to have a conversation with, I felt a sharp stab of honest-to-god real jealousy. I had no right to feel jealous at all, but I did.

  “She has dark brown hair, just below her shoulders,” Marcus continued to describe the girl he was looking for, “and she wears it pinned up on the sides like this.”

  Black and white pictures of actresses from the Hollywood Golden Age appeared on the screen behind him, all of them displaying a version of my preferred hairstyle.

  What was going on? I lifted my hand to my hair in confusion. He could not be talking about me? I’m sure he must have met dozens if not hundreds of girls in Vegas since my trip in May. We hardly had any conversation at all. I said a few silly things to him, and he accused me of blackmail. It was hardly something worth to be continued…

  Most of the arms in the audience had gone down by now.

  “She looks good in red,” Marcus’s voice reached me, but I was no longer looking at him; instead I just stared straight at the back of the seat in front of me. “She may be wearing something red if she is here tonight, maybe just red lipstick.”

  I had a grey pencil-skirt dress on. Well, the thin leather belt was red… What was it all about, dammit?

  I looked up. The screen on the stage was showing the theater audience now. The camera moved from one raised arm to another, zooming in on the young women whose neighbours thought they matched Marcus’s description.

  He smiled and joked with the women and people holding their arms up but then always shook his head, making the camera move on to the next person.

  “I’m sorry, man! But the woman next to you has a blonde pixie cut!” he laughed, addressing the next man who had his arm up. “Quite the opposite of the girl I’m looking for!”

  The woman on the screen behind him was at least twice the described age. She was laughing too.

  “I’m his wife!” she pointed at the smiling guy beside her, with his arm still up in the air. “But I don’t mind having a conversation with you, Marcus!”

  Everyone laughed, including myself, and then I saw my own face on the screen! My eyes went wide, and I looked at my neighbour, who still had her arm up. She shrugged casually and explained happily, “You have red lipstick on!”

  I shrunk in my seat. I was convinced it wasn’t me he was looking for, but there was a slight chance that he would remember me from that short, awkward encounter on the bus.

  “Found her,” I heard Marcus say quietly, and a spotlight hit my face immediately, making me squint. Loud cheers and applause erupted around me again and then, suddenly, I felt… weightless.

  “Don’t be afraid,” his voice whispered straight into my ear.

  10. Found Her!

  It was undeniably her! He may not have remembered her face, and he never thought he could have picked her out in a crowd, but he knew it was her as soon as her image appeared on the screen.

  He turned around quickly, peering into the audience, trying to make out her face in the sea of others. A spotlight illuminated her. She looked stunned and… stunning! How could he not remember her? How did he let her go without even making a move?

  Her big brown eyes were open wide at him and her brightly-coloured lips were parted slightly in surprise. Her looks weren’t flashy, but she definitely had the vintage elegance of classic Hollywood. He wanted to see all of her, to remember everything this time. He needed her closer.

  He lifted her gently from her seat.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he made his words travel across the audience to reach her.

  He longed to calm her as she levitated above her seat supported only by his magic. He had witnessed way too many people being terrified of what he was, and hoped desperately that he had been right about her, that she indeed was different.

  Thankfully, she didn’t look scared and she didn’t freak out by being suspended in the air, but she looked tense as she pressed the skirt of her dress to her thighs and hips with both hands.

  On their own volition, his eyes slid along her curves, following the movements of her hands with appreciation. He forced himself to focus.

  Of course, she had to wear a dress! He couldn’t possibly make her float across the whole theater in a skirt.

  He thought to the costume room back in Vegas. What would look good on her hourglass figure?

  Honestly? Anything!

  Her clothes shimmered for a moment and were immediately replaced by a white silk one-piece pantsuit held at the waist with a gold-coloured belt. She looked down in astonishment from her sudden outfit change and lifted one foot a little to take a better look at the gold stiletto sandal that replaced her high boot.

  Carefully, he lifted her a little higher and made her float towards the stage, towards him. She looke
d around in disbelief then down at the people below her and, finally, at him.

  For a moment, he felt apprehensive of her reaction again.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he repeated his encouragement to her.

  She spread her arms to the sides, shook her head at him incredulously and… smiled. He breathed out in relief, taking the sight of her in as she floated to him across the room. The wide pants of her white suit could pass for a skirt, and to him, she looked like an angel soaring through the air, a happy smile of wonder on her face.

  She was not afraid. Unlike all other people in the theater, she knew exactly what was going on, and she wasn’t afraid of his magic. On the contrary, she looked delighted.

  Fearless!

  He stretched his arms towards her, impatient to pluck her out of the air as soon as she was close enough, and she caught his hands with hers.

  “Wow,” she whispered breathlessly when her feet touched the stage next to him. “That was… Wow!”

  The audience exploded in applause once again and the curtains began to close.

  “Who are you?” he asked quickly.

  She threw her head back and laughed happily, pumped up on adrenaline.

  “I’m a crazy girl who believes in magic!”

  Her laughter was contagious, and Marcus couldn’t stop smiling himself. He didn’t remember the last time he smiled so much that his face hurt. In fact, he didn’t remember the last time he smiled on stage at all.

  “What’s your name?” he asked the question he most regretted not asking the last time.

  “Angela,” she answered somewhat mechanically. She still looked both dazzled and delighted.

  “Angela? Like an angel? I can remember it.”

  She scoffed.

  “There is nothing of an angel in me. Trust me.”

  “We’ll see,” he cocked his head. “What’s your last name?”

  “Why?”

  “In case you tell me off and run away again. It will be much easier to find you if I have your full name.”

  “McAllister. My last name is McAllister,” she replied and added incredulously, “You were looking for me?”

  “Yes. Nice to meet you, Angela McAllister.” He smiled even wider.

  Somebody touched his shoulder, “Marcus, encore?” It was one of the production crew. Marcus realized that the people in the audience were still going wild and nodded in agreement. He took Angela’s hand and led her to the centre of the stage, closer to the opening curtains.

  “They want to see us again,” he explained to her when her eyes, the colour of strong coffee under the stage lights, looked up at him in question.

  “They want to see you,” she corrected him.

  “And you. You are the part of the act now.” He tipped his chin at her. “See, even our outfits match!”

  His words made her eyes slide down his body, and he noticed them linger a little longer than necessary on his naked chest. A shot of warmth spread along his skin where her eyes touched him.

  Would she want to learn all about him one day? Could he share all with her?

  The curtains opened, and she jerked her gaze away from his chest quickly. He held her hand as they bowed, waved, and smiled at cheering people.

  Standing ovation! He had received more of those, especially, after he added the final act to his show — the Phoenix act. Today it felt especially rewarding. Was it because for the first time ever he had shared this moment with somebody standing by his side?

  ***

  “Can I have my clothes back?” Angela still held his hand in one of hers. Her other arm was across her chest.

  Come to think of it, the white silk of the outfit he put on her was a little clingy and therefore somewhat revealing. It put her whole body on display.

  Gorgeous!

  “In a little while.” He chose to be selfish for a moment longer. “Let’s get off the stage first.” He pulled her by the hand.

  “Hey! Your clothes have changed!” She pointed with her chin at his usual leather pants and the plain black t-shirt that he had on now. He didn’t like staying in stage outfits for too long, as none of them felt comfortable. Besides, gold wasn’t his colour. Gold and white were the colours of his show and, with the addition of red, they went well with the Phoenix theme of the final act too, but it didn’t mean he had to walk around dressed in gold silk longer than was absolutely necessary.

  “My show colours look much better on you than they do on me.” Marcus walked quickly past some of the stage crew and the dancers in the direction of his dressing room backstage, pulling Angela along. He still didn’t have a clear idea of what he was going to do now that he found her. He was just feeling anxious to get her away from all the people around them, somewhere where they could talk in peace.

  From the corner of his eye, Marcus noticed Simon moving towards them, and he waved him away quickly. Simon would have to wait. Everyone would have to wait now.

  “Marcus, where are you taking me?” Angela tugged at his hand, making him stop in his tracks.

  “Away from here.” He gestured around. “My dressing room is this way.”

  She removed her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest again. It didn’t look like she was going to the dressing room with him, he realized with concern.

  “I’ll need to go home, Marcus. I have to work tomorrow morning.” Her smile got smaller, and his heart sank. He didn’t want to spoil it, but he had no idea how to behave around her. It had been a while since he had to make any real effort to get women to come to his room or to his bed. The sad truth was — he had no idea how to conquer a woman if he was genuinely interested in her. Where should he even start now?

  “I’ll drive you home,” he asserted and added before she could protest, “I have a limo here from the production company.” He couldn’t hold back a smirk when he said, “To help me get around.”

  ***

  “Did you like the show?” he asked as soon as they were inside the limo and she gave her address to the driver.

  The cold October air outside the theater made her shiver, and he couldn’t help but notice her pebbled nipples that pushed tantalizingly against the faint outline of her lacy bra, visible through the flimsy material of the white suit in which he dressed her. Suddenly, his pants grew uncomfortably tight, and he willed himself to calm down the best he could.

  This was so unexpected — his strong attraction to her. Now there was this sudden lust! So very inconvenient, even dangerous. This was not why he had searched for her, created a new act for her and made Simon curse his name for forcing him work day and night to make tonight’s show happen. He didn’t need just another woman in his bed. He didn’t want to spoil it by being himself and scare her away.

  First things first, he closed his eyes for a second and brought her old clothes back.

  “Thank you!” she said, surprised.

  He opened his eyes, relieved to find that she was now decently covered by her demure grey dress again.

  “Could you, maybe…” she started. “If it’s not too much to ask, is it possible to get my jacket back, too? I left it in the coat check.”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “What does it look like?”

  “It’s a short black wool coat, double-breasted. And it has a red and orange butterfly pin on the lapel… Oh!” The coat was on her before she’d even finished talking. He made sure it was buttoned all the way up too, because he decided that the neckline of her dress was still too low for him not to get distracted otherwise.

  It will pass, he told himself. It had been a long time since he last was intimate with a woman, in any way. His self-imposed celibacy of late was what turned him into this horndog at the most inconvenient of times. Now it was obvious: jerking off alone in the ranch house was not enough. He missed having a woman in his arms.

  You just wanted to talk, he reminded himself, start there.

  “Did you like the show?” he asked again.

  “I did!”

  Her eye
s sparkled with delight in the darkness of the limo; their deep brown colour lit up from inside with the golden glow from the street lights filtering through the tinted windows.

  “It was beautiful, Marcus!” she laughed, and he almost felt the sound of her laughter as if it stroked his skin in a soft, gentle caress.

  “Thank you for inspiring the best act of my show,” he replied.

  “I did?”

  “Yes. Blow their minds the way you blew mine. Remember? I set out to do just that when I planned the Phoenix act. Do you think it worked?”

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling for a moment and looked as though she were trying to recall the exact feeling she had at the theater tonight.

  “I think you did,” she nodded at last. “I think you absolutely did!”

  Her lips curved into a smile, drawing his eyes to them, and he fought the urge to kiss her. It didn’t help that her own eyes darkened when she caught him staring. Her lips parted, and she covered his hand with hers on the seat between them.

  “Thank you for making me fly,” she said, her voice unexpectedly low and a little raspy.

  And this time, it wasn’t his lust that made him pause.

  The faint pulse of energy that had completely disappeared during the show returned slowly, building with a persistent, incessant hum just beneath the surface of his skin. It had been there most of his life, so much that he didn’t even notice it anymore until it reached painful levels. He had to perform magic acts in public to release the tension from the built-up power, to share it with as many people as possible.

  The only other way to get rid of the pain was to make himself come. His orgasms came at a price, though, as he discovered when he jerked off in the shower for the first time as a teenager and caused a mandatory evacuation of the small town where he lived.

  He stared at Angela’s hand covering his, feeling the constant burning hum dissipate, extinguished by the fresh cool sensation of her touch.

  Had he just found a third way? Could Angela give him more than he ever dared to hope — a relief from the fire and pain brought on by magic that was his blessing and his curse?