The M-M-Magic Show
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They sat at the single, large table outside of the city's finest steakhouse, the ambiance filled with their joyous chatter.
"Ok, Honey," the man said to the waitress with an air of indulgence. "We're celebrating tonight, so here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna bring us each a glass of Pappy 23 year."
"With pleasure," replied the waitress as she turned and walked into the restaurant.
She returned and presented the bottle for the man's inspection. He nodded his head, and she poured three glasses. As she turned to leave, the man caught the bottle in his hand. "We'll hold on to that," he asserted, raising an eyebrow playfully.
"Sir, I'm sorry we don't allow that. You'd have to buy the whole bottle," she replied, a note of trepidation in her voice.
"And that's what we plan to do," he countered with a wink.
"Sir, but that would be thousands of do-"
He raised a finger to his lips, silencing her. "Don't worry about it," he interrupted.
The group, clearly high-spirited from the evening's successes, talked loudly through their entire meal. They conversed loudly as they boasted about the big sale they'd just closed. The men, filled with bravado, drank from the most expensive bottle of bourbon, while the women savored the most expensive bottle of wine.
As the final bites of the decadent meal were being taken, a young man approached. He could have been anywhere between 16 to 20, with an aura of eagerness around him.
"Hi folks, m-my n-name is Rue. I'm t-t-training to be a p-professional magician. Would you like to see a few tricks while you f-f finish your meal?"
Rue was of average height. His weight leaned towards the leaner side, giving him a scrappy appearance. His hair was an untamed nest of curls, and despite the evident nervousness, he was not unattractive. The most striking feature, however, was his deformed arm. It curled up, the hand ending in a permanent fist, the entire arm atrophied by lack of use.
"The cripple'd have better luck panhandling," one of the guys murmured snidely under his breath to another, an unmistakable smirk playing on his lips.
"Looks like magic wasn't his first choice. Maybe arm wrestling was," another man sneered, barely stifling his laughter.
Rue's keen gray eyes locked onto the mocker, "I d-don't accept t-tips," he retorted.
"I-I-I'm a true c-craftsman," he added, trying to regain some control over the situation.
"A-a-are you g-gonna j-j-juggle for us?" another man sneered. The table of men burst into raucous laughter. One of the women, probably someone's wife, looked horrified, her eyes widening, and her jaw dropping. "Stop it Brett!" she admonished, shoving him.
"S-s-sorry R-Rue," he replied, his voice dripping with feigned remorse, a smirk playing on his lips.
Rue, however, put on a brave front. "It's o-ok. My s-s- stutter and g-gimp arm is a-all part of the a-act. My momma s-says it makes m-m-me endearing!" he claimed, trying to turn the situation around.
"Ok, give us a couple," one of the guys yelled, leaning back in his chair, the expectation of entertainment evident in his posture. "This ought to be hilarious," he muttered under his breath, the sly smile never leaving his face.
Rue began with a card trick. He had one of the women pick a card and return it to the deck. Handing her the deck, he instructed her to shuffle.
"Is it this one?" he inquired.
"No," she replied with an amused chuckle.
"Shit. This one?"
Again, she shook her head, "No," her voice tinged with laughter and pity at his apparent failure.
The men exchanged smug glances, clearly relishing Rue's stumble.
But then, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, Rue reached into his pocket. He revealed a single card. The woman's eyes widened in surprise. "How the-? Yes, that's it!" she exclaimed, her laughter now one of genuine amusement and surprise.
The mood at the table shifted slightly. The blatant mockery was replaced by a begrudging interest.
Rue continued, "Ok, for this one, I need everyone to take everything out of their pockets, and clear your tables. Put everything under the table and put your feet on top of your belongings."
After the group exchanged glances, suggesting disbelief, Rue said, "I'm serious. The trick doesn't work otherwise."
They obeyed.
Handing out small cork discs, he said, "I'm passing out a coaster to each of you. I'm going to turn around, and I want you to write a number on it between one and one hundred and then trade with someone next to you."
After giving everyone a few moments, he instructed them to put the coaster under their left thigh. No one noticed him place the small device he was studying back in his pocket.
Turning to one of the men, he began his deduction, "Ok sir, your number is either higher than 50," he paused giving Brett time to raise his eyebrows in jest, and then continued, "or below 50."
Brett, scoffed, "The next David C-Copperfield, ladies and gentlemen."
"Stop it Brett! Let him finish," one of the women said, scolding him.
Rue, unfazed by the insult, continued, "Your eyes tell me it's above 50."
Brett maintained a smile, but said nothing.
"And below 60," Rue went on.
Brett's smile started to fade.
"Hmmm it could be above 55," he said watching Brett's reaction. "But it's not, is it? Your body gives away so much."
Brett's fingers drummed impatiently on the table as he grew increasingly uncomfortable with the boys penetrating stare.
"Think of your number intently now." After a moment Rue said, "53."
Brett's eyes blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened.
Everyone recognized that Rue had guessed correctly, and several shook their heads as if trying to shake off an illusion.
"How the hell did he just do that?" Brett murmured, inspecting the coaster.
"Who's next?" Rue asked.
Rue performed a few more tricks, each more baffling than the last.
"Ok," he said, "for my grande finale, I need all of you to stand up."
He took two pitchers of water off of the tables and put one on the ground, pouring the other one out. He looked up at the members of the group and shrugged his shoulders.
"Please stand in a circle and put these on," he said, passing around sleek black eye masks.
There were a couple eye rolls and Brett checked his watch. The women, amazed by the last trick, were excited. The men, bitter at the disturbance to their bourbon-filled celebration, were ready for it to end.
Everyone did as he said.
"Ok great, when I say so, everyone will count to 30 together."
"Ready, begin."
"1, 2...," the group began at various volumes and cadences, "...3, 4."
"Stop!" Rue yelled. "This trick only works if everyone is in sync, and it must be louder."
One of the men grumbled his disapproval.
"We're going to start over. Ready... go."
"1, 2, 3..." everyone was much louder this time.
Some hammed it up, getting louder as they approached the end. "...28, 29, 30!"
They began taking off their masks.
"Excuse me, but I didn't tell you to take off your masks yet."
Brett, temples pulsing at this point, put his back on, as did everyone else.
"Ok, now you may remove your masks," said Rue with a chuckle the moment they had put them back on.
The men looked at each other filled with frustration.
"Ok," Rue said, "let's see what we have here." He walked into the center of the circle and bent down towards the pitchers. He dipped his hand into the pitcher of water and pulled it out, beads of water dripping from his hand.
He dipped his hand into the water again and then hovered it over the empty pitcher. A single coin fell into it.
The group stood there, a few of their lips moving silently, trying to silently puzzle out the mechanics of the trick.
He dipped his hand in and out again, and this time as he hovered his hand over the empty pitcher one, two and then a third coin fell into it.
He picked up the pitcher with his good hand and placed it carefully into the clubbed hand to hold. As he did so he looked into the stunned eyes of the small audience.
He walked over to one of the women, moved his hand towards her shoulder and pulled a coin off of it, dropping it into the pitcher.
He pulled another off of one of the guys’ shoes and two more from inside another ladies’ scarves.
There were laughs and a few clapping hands at this point.
Rue turned towards Brett, who was not laughing.
"W-what?" Rue inquired, "is it not e-e-entertaining enough for y-you?" He walked over to him and reached for Brett's tie. Brett seized Rue's hand aggressively, who began studying his arm.
"Hah!" sneered Brett, twisting and lifting Rue's arm up for others to see. Barely perceptible was a small, skin tight pouch that matched his complexion.
"Keep practicing little man!"
Rue's face flushed, and his eyes winced in pain. "Ok you g-got me," he mumbled. "C-c-c- can you let my hand go p-please?"
Brett shoved it away so hard, the empty pitcher fell out of his other hand.
"What the fuck is wrong with you Brett?" the lady asked running over to help Rue pick up the pitcher and loose coins.
Brett shrugged his shoulders, eyes filled with delight.
"Well, t-thank you guys f-f-for participating in my show," Rue said quietly, not willing to look anyone in the eyes.
"Thank you Rue, that was so awesome. You almost had us on that last one!" one of the women said, attempting to him.
"Yeah thank you Rue. That was delightful," said one of the other ladies.
The men had already returned to their tables and were pouring another glass of bourbon.
"I have half a mind to yank that little baby arm he's got too. That's probably not real either," Brett muttered, not quite quiet enough to avoid hitting Rue's ears.
"Well b-bye everyone, have a fine e-e-evening," Rue said as he took to leave.
"Wait!" said one of the ladies as she refiled through her purse. "I insist on tipping you, Rue," she said as she rummaged for her wallet. "You have to let me pay you."
Rue caught her wrist, his touch as light as a feather.
"No ma'am. My pop always taught me that a fat wallet's a sure-fire way to spoil a man's work ethic. I'm destined to be a great magician one day, but I need to keep working hard. Thank you for the offer."
He turned and left. Vanessa's eyebrows furrowed as she sat there thinking. He didn't stutter. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the young man's audacity for performing in front of a crowd, especially with his limitations.
A few minutes later the waiter came with the bill.
"Shall we do the thing where you all pretend like you want to pay the bill and fight me on it?" Brett said as he opened his wallet, eyeing the other men.
"What the hell!?" Brett exclaimed looking up. "All of my cash is gone. I had thousands of dollars in here!"
Realization dawning on everyone, they each searched their belongings, only to find that they'd been robbed.
