Just a Little Magic Ch. 07

Fifteen minutes of talking about our routine, and future shows ... followed by three to four hours of intense, passionate fucking. It was as if I'd flicked a switch - Janine was definitely 'On' after Vegas.

* * * * *

I didn't find out until later, but Sammy cashed in the casino chips. He had a few more drinks, and went to bed alone, slightly buzzed. He gave the thousand dollars to his Mom.

I was pleased - very pleased - because I'd been doing similar things. I'd put some of my money aside, too.

Probably half of what I earned (after taxes) went to Lillian and Janine, to pay expenses for our magic shows. Travel, accommodation, the van, the sound-proof booth ... all of those came out of my earnings. We were also creating a war-chest of sorts, for what I was I beginning to think of as 'the Year of Decision'.

Janine helped with my taxes for 2022.

Magic shows - $131,000 (Penn & Teller gave us an advance - very nice of them)

Poker - $48,000

Sammy was good to his Mom. So was I.

"What is this?" said my Mom. I'd just handed her a cheque for $27,000.

"I want you to pay off your mortgage on the house."

"Peter ..."

"C'mon, Mom. Let me help out."

I had a similar, equally complicated discussion with Bill.

"It's your money, Pete." he said. "You shouldn't spend it on us."

"Bill - you've housed and fed me, all these years. Of course I can spend on you. And look on it this way: with the house paid off, you can start to build up equity. If my career should fail, you'll be in a position to help me out - again."

I 'invested' in my Mom and Bill. I also tossed another $5000 to Sammy's parents, letting them know that there was more where that came from, if they needed it.

But the success on 'Fool Us' had some unanticipated results. Maybe I should have expected them.

I suddenly discovered 'friends' I'd never know I had. High school classmates, near strangers, who just needed 'a small loan' ... would I help them out, given our shared history?

Bill's brother, my 'Uncle' Ted, began to communicate with me on a weekly basis - then almost daily. This prick had never bothered to send us a Christmas card, but now believed that he was entitled to a share of my success.

Fuck you, Ted.

Our schedule became more crowded, too. Janine and Sammy were fielding offers to perform in larger venues, in front of bigger crowds. But we'd already agreed not to forsake the smaller clubs, and the university and college gigs. Those people had been our first fans.

It wasn't just shows, either; we were besieged by requests for interviews. Janine seemed to know when she could wangle an appearance fee, and when we should go just for the exposure.

I got tired of those pretty fast. Many interviewers were only interested in looking hip and cool - they had to keep up with whatever was trending. Then they tried to sound clever, or funny. I didn't have to read their minds to know that they weren't really all that interested in us, or in magic.

Let me correct that: quite a few were interested in Janine. She was fawned over, flattered, and hit on with monotonous frequency. One interviewer ended up wetting his pants - he'd crossed a line, obviously.

Everyone asked the same questions: how did you get into magic, how long have you been practicing, are you two really a couple?

"We're just good friends." Janine would say, with a bat of her eyelashes, and that now famous half-smile.

They just loved her. Can't say that I blamed them. She was eye-catching at range, and heart-stopping up close. Janine was also clever, quick-witted, and well-spoken.

Darren and Dred were radio hosts. Their morning show was among the most popular in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area). Darren was Mr. Smooth, while Dred was supposed to provide the humour.

I didn't find Dred all that funny, but he was a reasonably nice guy. Darren, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to get under my skin. After ignoring me for the first five minutes, so that he could drool over Janine, he finally tossed a question my way.

"So, Pete ... are you really goofy, or is that all an act?"

"Clumsy, Darren." I said. "Clumsy is the word we would use."

"And can you really read minds? I mean ... can you tell what I'm thinking right now?"

"Sure, Darren. You're asking yourself what a hottie like Janine is doing with an asshole like me. And you're wondering if you have a shot with her."

Ol' Darren blushed crimson, and struggled to find words.

"Sorry." I added. "I should have asked: is it okay to say 'asshole' on the air?"

Dred nearly wet himself laughing - and Janine had nothing to do with it.

"You were bad, today." she said to me, afterwards. She wasn't all that upset, though.

I was happy to do interviews for genuine fans, or people who were truly interested in magic. I sat down for Excalibur and the Varsity (the newspapers of York university and the U. of T.). I even had time for a few very humble bloggers and podcasters.

Some of these folks had really done their homework: I was asked questions about my appearances in poker tournaments.

"Well," I said, "obviously I was still learning to mind-read, because I didn't win."

I had no complaints about Janine getting the lion's share of the attention. I was cultivating an air of mystery. People wondered about where the real talent lay, and I did nothing to clear that up.

I have to say that I benefited in another way: female attention. Quite a few women suspected that I had hidden charms, if I was with Janine. Some guessed that I had to be damned good in bed.

They were correct, and a select few got to find out firsthand.

Now, if that sounds like I'm bragging, please remember that I'm well aware that I'm not particularly smart, handsome, clever, funny, or ... much good at anything, really.

Basically, I can do magic, thanks to Lillian and Janine. And I'm good at sex, thanks to Janine's training and a fair bit of practice.

Janine and I cooled off a little bit in the spring. She didn't make a very big deal about my birthday in March (my 22nd), whereas I'd gone out of my way to make hers (December 30th) more special than Christmas or New Year's Eve.

It wasn't a relationship. I was her on-call fuck buddy. I'm not complaining; it was a pretty sweet gig. I was well aware that millions of guys would have sacrificed body parts to be in my place.

But if you'd asked me - even back then - if I was happy ... I knew that I would've have preferred to be with Danielle. And if you'd offered me a choice between Janine and Ginette ... well, Ginette couldn't hold a candle to my partner in terms of looks, body, or sexual imagination.

It's just that I liked Ginette a lot more. And I really missed Danielle.

* * * * *

In May, we were back in Vegas to open for Penn and Teller. It was a lot of fun. We'd added a few wrinkles and some new components, to keep the show fresh. Our hosts were very nice to us; I had zero complaints about the way we were treated.

We did a couple of other shows in Vegas, and probably made as much as we would have in ten shows back home.

"How long do you think this will last?" asked Sammy.

"As long as we can make it last." said Janine. "We'll probably need to re-invent ourselves, at some point. New material, new style."

"Worried about the future of your job?" I asked him.

"Nah. Well ... maybe a little."

"Stick with us, little man. We'll make you rich." said Janine. Then she ruffled his hair.

I didn't care for her calling him 'little man'. Okay, Sammy was short, but Janine was only 5' herself. And she shouldn't have been patronizing him; Sammy had done a lot for us over the past year.

"Sorry, man." I said.

"S'okay. I mean, she does the same to you. Not so much, anymore. You've been bangin' her since the first time we were here, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Not as much, anymore."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. I'm fine with that."

"She still treatin' you like shit?"

"Ahh ..." I just shrugged.

"Pete - can I ask you a favour?"

"You have to ask? What do you need?"

"I met this girl ..." said Sammy.

The whole story came out. Sammy had a girlfriend. He'd been seeing her for three weeks. She was hot, and she'd fucked him after their second date.

"That's awesome! Way to go."

"Maybe ... I don't know ..."

To make a long story short, Sammy was conflicted. He really liked this girl - Wendy - and he certainly had no complaints about getting laid.

But she was hot, and he was ... Sammy. To him, it seemed too good to be true. He was worried that Wendy was a gold-digger - that she was interested in his future earnings, or his proximity to celebrities (Janine & me) rather than Sammy himself.

"I want you to meet her ... and then you can tell me ... the truth."

"You want me to read her mind?"

"Yeah."

"I can do that." I said. "But Sam - once I've listened to her thoughts ... I can't forget what I heard. Know what I mean?"

"I know. I want you to."

That was how I came to meet Wendy. She was blonde, and pretty (though not quite as pretty as she thought she was). She was excited to meet me. Very excited.

I read her mind. She wasn't a gold-digger.

Wendy was an omnivorous groupie. She wanted to fuck me. Then she wanted to fuck Janine. In fact, she wanted to suck my cock because she suspected that I'd fucked Janine. Her dream scenario was eating my cum out of Janine after I'd fucked her.

Sammy was nothing but a stepping stone to her, a way to gain access to me, and then to Janine.

I was polite to her.

When Sammy went to the bathroom, Wendy started coming on to me.

"Whoa, girl!" I said. "You need to do a lot more for Sammy before you graduate to the next level." That was the way she saw it; I used language that she would understand.

Sam and I got together the following evening.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, man. You were right. She is a gold-digger."

"Shit ..."

Sammy was disappointed. Not broken, though - he'd suspected Wendy's true colours all along. He stayed with her for another week - and then broke it off.

* * * * *

Wendy might sound quite unimportant - peripheral, if you wish, to my story. Not so. Sammy met another girl, that summer of 2024. He immediately asked me if I would 'check her out'.

"What? Mind-read her?"

"Yeah."

"Sammy, I can't do that for every girl you might be interested in."

"Please, Pete? I really like this girl. But I have to know. If she's going to break my heart, I'd rather find out sooner than later ..."

"Alright." I wasn't really in the habit of saying no to Sammy. "When?"

"This Sunday. Late afternoon, early evening. Pool party and barbecue."

Great. I hadn't been outside much all summer. I was going to look like Casper the Friendly Ghost in a bathing suit.

Brian was a classmate of Sammy's from college. I didn't really care for the guy; he was way too full of himself for my liking. It wouldn't be all that hard to put up with him for an afternoon, though. Worst-case scenario: I could talk to Sammy's girl, get a read on her, and then leave early.

Sammy was keyed-up. "Her name is Trish." he told me (for the third time).

"I know."

"C'mon, Pete! I really need you to do this."

"I know. Relax. It's no problem."

Even as we were getting out the car, and collecting our towels, beer and food, Sammy was still giving me instructions.

"It's your turn to be the wingman, today. Understood?"

"Aye aye, Captain!" I would have saluted, but my hands were full.

"I'm no Captain." said Sammy. "But today, I'm Batman. Got it?"

"Aye aye, Batman!"

"So you know what that makes you?"

I had to laugh. "I'm Robin."

Sammy enjoyed that far too much. "Say it again."

"I'm Robin." I repeated.

We were standing in front of Brian's door at that moment. Sammy had rung the doorbell just after he'd said 'I'm Batman'. The door opened just as I was saying 'I'm Robin'.

The girl who opened it heard me clearly.

"Hi Robin. I'm Colette. Hey Sammy." The she turned her head and bellowed "Trish! Sammy is here - with his friend Robin."

Sam and I just laughed. Neither of us bothered to correct her. What would it hurt? I didn't know anyone here, except for Brian.

Trish arrived, and I saw immediately why Sammy's heart was all a-flutter. She was tiny, but her eyes sparkled. Trish was a bundle of energy, vitality, and - as I discovered later - good nature.

She gave Batman a hug, and then turned to me. She looked a little confused.

"So, you use a stage-name? I didn't realize your real name was Robin."

"It isn't." Sammy explained. "He's just Robin for today, because I'm Batman."

"Did you win a coin toss, or something?" she asked.

"Something like that."

Trish led us to the kitchen, where Brian greeted Sammy and briefly acknowledged my presence. Trish bustled about, helping us put our beverage contributions on ice, while getting us cold ones from the coolers. I liked her already.

It took only a moment of concentration to discover that she was delighted that Sammy had arrived. She genuinely liked him. Trish found him funny, open, and honest. Was it love? Only time would tell ... but I could reassure my buddy that his new flame wasn't using or playing him.

Brian suggested we go into the pool area. I decided to give Batman a few moments with Trish, so I made my way out there alone.

Big pool, big patio. 15 or 20 people I didn't know. It was a very, very hot day, and humid to boot. We might live in the Great White North, but Toronto in July can be downright muggy. I quickly looked for a place in the shade.

I could have stood against the back of the house. But one of the round tables covered by big umbrellas was occupied only by a single girl. There were no other drinks on the table, so I didn't think I'd be stealing anyone's seat.

"May I?" I asked.

"Please."

I sat down, and smiled. "I'm Robin."

"Sophie. Pleased to meet you."

"Friend of Brian's?" I asked.

"I just met him today. Colette's a family friend, and her friend Trish invited me. You?"

"Ah, I'm only here because of my friend Sammy. That's him over there, with Trish."

"Is he the one that works with Peter Grey?" asked Sophie.

Oops. "Ah - you mean the magician?"

"Yes. Trish said that I had to meet him. Apparently he does some fantastic tricks."

"Really?" All I could tell, thus far, was that neither she nor Colette had ever seen me perform, or watched a video online.

"Although ..." continued Sophie, "according to Brian, he's some kind of major-league asshole. All ego, big mouth."

"I know the type."

"Don't we all. But I think I'll reserve judgment until I actually meet him. Then we'll see if Brian is full of it or not."

"Oh?"

"Well, I didn't get a very good impression of Brian - sorry ... I shouldn't be talking this way."

"That's alright." I said. "Brian didn't make a very good impression on me, either."

Sophie nodded. "Good to know I'm not alone. It just seemed to me that he was the one with the big ego. And the big mouth. As for assholes ... see that girl in the yellow swimsuit? That's his girlfriend. Didn't stop him from hitting on both Colette and me the moment we came in the door."

That sounded more like the Brian I remembered.

"I'm sorry." said Sophie. "I shouldn't be saying these things." She pushed her drink further away. "Two drinks and I turn into a chatterbox."

"Or we could just call you refreshingly candid." I corrected her.

Sophie smiled. It was an unusual smile - she didn't show any teeth. Instead, she pressed her lips together, while the corners of her mouth curled up, and her face suddenly revealed almost a dozen dimples.

I felt like a fool. We'd been sitting here, talking, and I'd only just noticed how appealing Sophie was. She had long dark-brown hair (almost black, actually), and bright blue eyes. The combination was very attractive.

She had a bumpy nose, and a rather prominent chin - it was strong, and wide, with a cleft in the middle. I'd been looking at her little imperfections, while totally missing the overall excellence of her features.

Then I blushed, because I'd been staring for several seconds too long already ...

"Listen, Sophie - just so you know ... my name isn't -"

"PETE!" shouted Brian. "PETE! Over here, man! How about a little entertainment before we get this party started? Everybody - gather 'round!"

I rose to my feet, and looked down at Sophie. Her mouth was open.

"I'm sorry. I was about to say -"

"That your name isn't really Robin?"

"PETE! Come on, man!" shouted Brian. Then he addressed his friends. "You know, I've known this guy since first year of college - long before he became famous. Now we'll see if he can live up to the hype!"

Sophie was right. He was an asshole. But I didn't want to spoil Sammy's evening with Trish, so I went along.

Brian immediately appointed himself my assistant, as well as master of ceremonies.

"Well, you're not as pretty as Janine - but it is your house." I said. "Do you have a deck of cards?"

Brian had class, too; all of it low. Instead of going to get a deck, he yelled at his girlfriend to run and get one. She hurried into the house, and returned with the cards. In that time, I'd begun to look at the people around the pool. And then I came up with a simple plan.

"Take them out, Brian - and give them a good shuffle, please."

"Is that so you don't drop them into the pool?" he said, with a smirk.

"Something like that." Then I spoke to everyone else. "You probably noticed that I didn't touch the cards. That means that I didn't stack the deck. I also didn't get a chance to mark them.

When Captain Ego had finished shuffling and over-shuffling the cards, I asked him to give one to everybody at the party.

"By all means, have a good look at it - but don't let me see it." I said. "If you think that it's all been set up with Brian beforehand, you can put the card in your pocket, or wherever you like."

I winked at Sammy, to let him know that I had things under control. Then I glanced at Sophie, but she was a little too far away. Added to that, I hadn't been reading her mind earlier. I couldn't tell what she was thinking based on her facial expression alone.

Contrary to what you might think, I don't make a habit of reading the mind of every single person I meet. It's mentally exhausting, for one thing. And rude - yes, that too. An invasion of privacy - sure. Mostly, though, it's just too damn much effort.

Brian returned to stand next to me.

"Take one yourself." I told him. "I'm going to work my way around the pool."

The people to my immediate left were easiest. In the time it took Brian to go around the backyard, distributing cards, I'd already read three minds.

"4 of clubs, 9 of diamonds ..." I called out. Then I paused next to the third person, a guy in a loud Hawaiian shirt. I bent over, as if I was listening to his heart (from about three feet away). "Jack of clubs."

All three were holding up their cards, showing them to everyone else. A ripple of comments swirled around the backyard.

I took a little longer with the next couple, because I hadn't been close enough to read their minds, nor had I had time to concentrate on them. I covered for that deficiency by asking the woman a couple of questions.

"Have you been to one of my shows?"

"Ah ... no. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. When's your birthday?"

"My birthday? March 12th."

"Cool. 6 of spades." Then I turned to the guy next to her - her boyfriend. "When's her birthday?"

He'd obviously been expecting a different question.

"Umm ... March. 12th."

"Try not to forget it." I suggested. "Eight of hearts."

The next trio consisted of Trish, Sammy, and Colette.