His Next Trick - Page 13

The cab ride home is somber, only made worse when Tony reminds me I’ll be making up time lost for his special ‘favor.’

Jesus. Are all men total assholes?

I try not to think about it as I heave myself up the stairs, my body aching. Like a broken heart that’s been cracked one too many times.

I should shower, eat something at least but it’s no use.

Once the door closes and I’m alone, I do what any self-respecting girl does when the whole world’s against her.

I cry myself to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jett

“What the hell was that all about?” Cindy asks with her hands on her hips. But I don’t have time to talk.

Watching in slow motion as Penelope just pushes past me, running not just walking out of my life?

No.

Not gonna fucking happen.

Whatever Cindy said or did to upset her can wait until I find Penelope and get her back.

I can fire Cindy and anyone else on the payroll in a second.

The audience plants are a dime a dozen, and this isn’t the first time Cindy’s missed her cue or fucked something up majorly for me either.

I growl, making my way through a sea of people once I finally catch sight of Penelope.

By now though, it’s too late.

“There he is! It’s Jett Masters!”

I’ve done the unthinkable.

Not only have I left the one good thing in my life alone for more than one minute, but I’ve also gone rushing back out into the arena filled with hundreds of fans hanging about after the show.

A big no-no because it always ends in me losing my free time outside of being a performer.

Staying late and signing my name a million times over when I’d rather be staking my claim on Penelope.

The thought of her out in the world without me again…

I growl louder, but it’s hopeless. Without a wall of security and Miles to coordinate my way outta this, I’ll be tied up for at least an hour before anyone notices I’m missing.

Miles happens to spot me though, following me to pick my brain about something else no doubt so I seize the opportunity and give him the ‘I want out’ signal.

In moments the crowd’s under control and I can slip away out back, into the ‘no entry’ areas, but it's Penelope I need, and she’s not back here.

No thanks to moron, ruin-everything-Cindy.

I’ll fire her myself if I can’t get Penelope back.

In sheer desperation, I start grabbing security and any staff member who might have seen which way Penelope went.

“The girl I was with, which way did she go?”

I ask a dozen or more people a dozen times before someone actually remembers and points towards a single exit.

“She left just not long ago… with that guy who smelled like he slept in an ashtray,” someone finally says.

It’s music to my ears, and as soon as I’m outside, hugging the shadows I spot Tony Favela finishing his cigar by a waiting cab, Penelope’s profile in the back seat.

I want to call out, to run over and stop them. But with so many fans still swarming about, I doubt I’ll make it.

I’ve never felt so fucking helpless.

Jett Masters, world famous illusionist.

I can’t even hail a cab right now or be spotted without wasting even more precious time.

Think man. Think!

My own limo is parked in the basement, and apart from my phone and in true magician’s style… I’ve really got nothing in my pockets.

Not a single dime.

Time to use the oldest trick in the book.

Celebrity status.

May as well use it to my advantage for once.

Spotting a waiting limo across from the taxi stop, I make a beeline for it, casually sliding into the back seat.

The driver looks up, startled but recognizes me.

Everyone recognizes me, it feels like today.

“Well?” I ask him. “What are you waiting for? Christmas?”

Not my car. Not my driver, but who’s gonna argue with the star of the show?

The driver’s mouth opens and closes silently as he weighs up his choices.

“I just need you for a bit, you can come straight back,” I tell him, grateful when I feel the car start to move.

“Anything you say, Mr. Masters,” he drawls. “I’m a huge fan. Ain’t nobody gonna believe I picked you up!” he says excitedly, his wide smile comforting me in the darkness of the huge back seat as I lean across and point over his shoulder.

“It’s corny, I know...But follow that car,” I practically bark at him, making sure he knows he can have all the selfies and autographs he wants once I find out where that cab is actually going.

After that, I’ll handle things my way.

It’s a longer ride than either of us imagined, and I assure my driver, who tells me his name’s John, that I’ll compensate him and his boss, his passengers for any trouble.

“Oh, not necessary.” He smiles wide again, setting my mind at ease. “The couple I was waiting for? They’re at the casino after seeing your show. They’ll be there for hours,” he assures me.

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