Seventeen

Jessie pans her camera over the crowd as they all applaud Jay’s big finish. Then she shuts it off.

“Okay, how the f**k?” I say, shaking my head in confusion. I seem to be doing that a lot these days.

Jessie laughs. “Out of everything he did today, that one was probably the simplest, and yet look at them all. I think some of them actually believe he really is magic.”

“Simple?! He just made himself disappear. There’s nothing simple about that.”

“Look at where he was standing, Matilda,” says Jessie, deadpan.

“He was standing on the wall.”

She gives me a glance like I’m slow. “Yeah, so he just did a bit of fancy messing around with the cape, obscuring himself enough so that he could drop to the other side. You don’t have to be a genius to figure that out.”

I slam my palm to my forehead. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“He’s a flashy bastard. Most people are so dazed by the flash that they don’t see the trick. Come on, he’s probably waiting for us.”

She starts walking, and I follow her lead. “Hey, I thought you were under a contract not to reveal any of his secrets?”

“He won’t mind me telling you that one. It’s kid’s stuff. The more complicated ones, now, if I told you about those he’d probably have my balls in a blender.”

I don’t point out the fact that girls don’t have balls. Although, if there was a girl to change that, it would definitely be Jessie. We walk down a side street to find Jay leaning casually against the wall of a building, smoking a cigarette with a big smile on his face. As soon as I reach him, he throws his arm around my shoulders.

“Well, what did you think?”

“You were amazing,” I tell him shyly.

Jessie snorts. “Now I know why you like having her around so much. She strokes your ego no end.”

“That’s not all she strokes,” says Jay, giving her a cheeky wink.

“Oh, my God, you did not just say that!” I look to Jessie. “He’s lying. Tell her you’re lying.”

“Now, why would I lie and tell her I’m lying?” he teases, his grin deepening by the second. God, I hate him sometimes.

“Ugh, don’t listen to him. There has been no stroking between us.”

Jay’s deep chuckle makes me shiver, and I know what I’ve said isn’t technically true, but whatever. “Okay, now that that’s all cleared up. Who wants pancakes for dinner?”

“Number one,” says Jessie. “You’re in Europe now. They’re not pancakes, they’re crepes. And number two, unless we’re talking the savoury kind, who eats crepes for dinner?”

“I still call them pancakes,” I put in. “You can do either, really. Plus, I love dessert for dinner.”

Jay’s hand moves to clasp my neck, giving it a tender squeeze. It takes me by surprise because it’s such an intimate place to touch someone. Involuntarily, I shiver.

“You see. Watson agrees with me. Pancakes it is.”

I have to try hard not to react too much to his hand placement, but there are goose pimples running all the way down my spine. His thumb brushes back and forth over my skin, giving me tingles.

When we arrive at a nearby crepe café and go inside, we get a table by the window. I order peanut butter and Nutella crepes with no small amount of delight, and Jay is so taken with my childlike glee that he goes for the same. Jessie asks for a BLT, not indulging in my “dessert for dinner” idea.

“Okay,” I say after we’ve been served our food and I’ve stuffed down half of mine already. I need a breather before I can finish it all. “I really, really, really would be forever indebted to you if you just revealed how you did one trick. Just one, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Jay wipes his mouth with a napkin, his lips forming a smirk. “When you say ‘forever indebted,’ just what are we talking about here?”

Jessie makes a foreboding sound. “No way, sweetheart. You don’t want to do that. This f**ker’s a slave driver when you owe him.”

“Okay, well, maybe I won’t be forever in your debt. Perhaps I was getting a little carried away with myself. If you tell me one trick, I’ll owe you one thing in return. You can decide, but it has to be reasonable, like washing your car or something.”

Jay leans forward and steeples his fingers in front of him. “Will you wash my car topless?” he asks huskily.

My cheeks colour, and Jessie lets out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, now, that is a good idea.”

“Okay, let me amend my offer. I will owe you, but it can’t be sexual.”

“Topless isn’t sexual,” says Jay. “Topless is natural.”

“I second that,” Jessie adds.

“How about braless?” Jay goes on.

God, these two. Why do I even bother?

“Fine. I retract my offer,” I huff, sitting back in my seat and folding my arms.

“Hey, now, I never said I wouldn’t agree to nonsexual. How about this? I’ll tell you how I did one trick, and in exchange you have to come work with me the next time I do some shows in Vegas?”

I stare at him for a long time. “Uh, how is that payment? That’s a free holiday.”

“A working holiday,” Jay amends.

“Okay, you don’t have to threaten me with a free holiday twice,” I say, smiling widely. “It’s a deal.” I reach out and we shake on it, Jay clasping my hand tight.

“It’s a deal, darlin’. Now, tell me which trick you want me to explain.”

“Oh, my God,” says Jessie. “This is new. You never told me any of your secrets until I’d signed on the dotted line.”

“Matilda made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Of course she did.”

Ignoring their banter, I try to think of which trick I want explained. It feels like there are so many. “All right, I suppose what I really want to know is how you got the Justice card drawn on Una Harris’ window. It definitely wasn’t there beforehand, and it was up way too high for you to reach.”

Jay rubs at his chin, looking around the café. “Ah, now, that one is elementary, my dear Watson. I think I’m gonna need some props for this explanation, though.” He gets up from his seat and walks over to the service counter, having a word with the guy on duty. Then he comes back carrying a shaker of paprika and a squeezy bottle of honey. Yuck, does he plan on putting those together on his pancakes?

Jessie looks a little disgruntled when he starts pushing all our plates out of the way to clear the table.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Just watch.”

Popping open the bottle of honey, he starts to pour it onto the surface of the table in quick movements. When I look down I see that he’s actually writing my name in stylish lettering. Pretty cool, but I still don’t get it. Next, he unscrews the cap on the paprika and pours some out into his hand before scattering the red spice all over the honey. Lastly, he bends down and blows hard. The excess paprika scatters away, leaving only the bits that have stuck to the honey. And there’s my name written in red.

“Okay, fancy,” I say, looking at him again, a niggling idea of his point forming in my head.

“That’s basically how I did it, though I’ll admit I had help. You remember meeting Sharon, who does wardrobe for my show?”

I nod.

“Well, she’s also a really great artist and works in unconventional mediums. Early this morning I paid the same guy you saw clean Harris’ window today to bring us up on the crane. Once there, Sharon drew an outline of the Justice card on the glass in washable glue, invisible unless you’re looking really closely. Harris’ office window is at an angle with the building next to it, so we bribed our way into the room facing Harris’. While I was holding the attention of the crowd, Sharon was there with a tube full of powdered chalk. She blew it out the window and it stuck to the glue, thus highlighting the image. The wind blew away the excess dust in only a few seconds, so the next time the crowd looked at the window, the image was there.”

Oh. That’s so f**king cool! It’s actually all very practical when explained like that. But you know what, I think I preferred not knowing. The mystery is part of the thrill. Well, at least I didn’t agree to wash his car topless.

“Happy now?” Jay asks.

“It’s certainly very clever. I don’t know how you think of these things. They’re just so slick.”

He grins. “Why, thank you.”

“But why do it on Una Harris’ office window? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?”

“Hey, I’ve kept my distance for long enough. She needs to know I’m not going to lie down and play dead while she stomps all over my career.”

“I think she’ll get the message once you file the lawsuit,” I say, and a sad thought hits me. If Dad really is going to represent Jay, then he’s probably going to have to move out. I completely forgot about that.

“You’re thinking about something you don’t like. What is it, Watson?”

I glance up at him, startled by how clearly he can read my thoughts. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Looking down, I run my finger over the rim of my glass. “Well, if all this goes ahead, then you’re going to have to move out, and I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around,” I admit quietly.

He grabs my hand, taking it into his big warm palm. “Hey, we’re besties now, aren’t we? I’ll still be around all the time. So much you’ll probably be sick of the sight of me. Also, I won’t be moving for another few weeks until I find someplace else.”

I cough, embarrassed now. “Okay.”

“I thought I was your bestie,” Jessie teases.

“You are. I can have two besties,” Jay replies.

He holds onto my hand for another few seconds before letting it go. “Well, look at this. You didn’t want me to move in, and now you don’t want me to leave.”

“No need to be so smug about it,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him and trying not to smile.

***

The next morning I get up early to help Dad pack. Every couple of months he and his friend Marcus go on golfing weekends down the country. Usually I don’t like being alone in the house, but since Jay is going to be here, I’m not so down about it. In fact, I’m really looking forward to being alone with him. What? I own a va**na and he’s Jay Fields; therefore, I’m allowed to be excited, even if nothing’s going to happen.

After Dad leaves, I make a trip to the fabric shop in town to stock up, planning a long weekend of dressmaking. I even have two new online orders to work on.

Arriving home, I find Jay in the garden, working out. I leave him to it for a while, then decide to go and see if he wants anything to eat. I’m being brave because it’s hard not to get all flustered when he’s sweaty and topless. Just as I’m about to walk out the door, he’s walking in, and we clash. He’s holding an energy drink, and it spills all over my top. I gasp loudly when the cold liquid hits me.

“Shit, sorry!”

Jay goes to grab some paper towels and comes back to help dry off my top. I stand there, speechless, as he dabs at the wetness. It’s one of those surreal moments where I can’t believe what’s happening is actually happening — mainly because the spillage is in the general vicinity of my boobs, and therefore, Jay is touching my boobs.

I breathe quickly when his thumb accidentally brushes my nipple through my thin bra, and his hand pauses. Every second feels like an eternity. I make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. He looks…hungry. When his hand moves again, it isn’t a dab, it’s a caress, and a strangled whimper escapes me. The paper towel falls from his hand as he full-on feels me up, still maintaining complete eye contact. If I wasn’t consumed by nerves, I’d probably slap him for being so brazen. There’s a question in his gaze.

Can we…?

His hand cups my breast, and I let out a quiet, barely audible sigh. I close my eyes.

“Matilda.” His voice is low, gravelly.

“Hmmm?”

“Look at me.”

I look at him. His other hand comes up and starts caressing my other breast, slowly, carefully, as though he’s savouring every moment. Both hands move down in unison and pinch each of my ni**les. I moan loudly, and his face hovers over mine, his mouth open as though swallowing the sound.

Then he speaks. “This top is ruined. Let’s get it off you, darlin’.”

He starts to pull it up over my head, and I don’t stop him. It’s the oddest moment for me to think of yesterday, when he’d slipped his hand inside the businessman’s pocket. I hadn’t seen him take anything, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. I’m standing in front of him in only my bra now as his eyes drink me in. My chest heaves, but the question niggles at me, pushing to be asked.

“Jay?”

“What is it, Matilda?” he purrs, stepping forward as I take a step back. When my back hits the wall, he stops, his chest a bare inch away from mine.

“What did you steal from that man yesterday?”

His brow furrows, and his head tilts to the side. “What man?”

“The one outside the newspaper building who you bumped into. I saw you slip your hand in his pocket. I remember him from the casino, you know. You couldn’t stop staring at him.”