I don’t remember hanging up.
I don’t even remember getting home, changing, or the actual cab ride to the show.
But even being stuck with my prick landlord-boss for the evening doesn’t ruin it.
Not completely.
We’re not just in the front row.
We’re front and center.
I’ll have Jett Masters all to myself for the next three hours.
I just hope he doesn’t see me.
I mean, I hope he does see me.
I just hope he doesn’t pair me with the asshole sitting next to me.
CHAPTER TWO
Jett
“The last show, huh?” I ask my manager, personal assistant, and pretty much everything in between, Miles.
Giving him a sarcastic look as he shifts his eyes so they don’t meet mine.
“Well… The last court ordered show,” he reminds me, and I groan. Rolling my eyes before settling them on Miles again.
Waiting for him to look at me, and he does eventually. But only for a moment before looking away again.
“What if I say no?” That is my only reply.
Working for free just to stay out of jail isn’t my idea of fun, and Miles hasn’t had his cut for two weeks now either.
“You did break out of a maximum security prison,” he says loudly. Firmly.
“For publicity,” I remind him. “And! In my defense, you were responsible for arranging that and failed… I was asked to prove that the new design was unbreakable.”
And it wasn’t. Because I did in fact, break out.
I was in and out of that prison within twenty minutes. It was a national embarrassment for the prison company, the governor, everyone.
I was supposed to stay quiet about it. They doubled my fee and I was thanked for my input after they threatened to sue if I said anything.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Miles grumbles, throwing his hands up in the air.
“But then you broke back in, didn't you?” he sneers, not hiding his contempt for me or my history of never doing what I’m told.
“Recorded yourself walking into a high-security prison and eating in the cafeteria… hell, you even took a dump in solitary confinement before walking right out again,” he recounts.
It still makes me smile.
It’s still the most watched video in internet history too.
Although I have to add, I did blur the dump scene.
But no one else was laughing. Not anyone that had a financial interest in the prison.
I was arrested and the scandal followed.
I was also sued for my fee, as well as a raft of other civil and criminal charges still pending.
The only way I was able to stay outta jail for good was to do a series of shows with all the money going to some bogus charity run by the same assholes who own the prison.
And learn to keep my mouth shut.
Simple, right?
“So here we are,” I mutter, looking around the penthouse suite. Already dissecting the entry and exit points by habit.
The dazzling cityscape view, the plush surroundings, I’ve seen it and done it all ten thousand times before. Literally.
Two shows a day, seven days a week for more years than I care to remember.
Jett Masters. Illusionist. Magician. Celebrity…
Call it whatever you like, but I’m wondering if this really should be my last show.
For real. No illusions. No tricks.
Just do my bit then disappear for good?
God knows I’ve got enough cash stacked to last a lifetime or two.
Even after Miles and all the other cronies help themselves to the Jett Masters experience.
I’ve been toying with the idea for a while now, and long before the whole jailbreak challenge blew up in my face.
I can’t say a word to Miles though. He wouldn’t dream of losing his ten percent.
If there’s one thing I know it’s how to disappear.
But then what?
I’m not exactly unrecognizable, and even the few people who’ve never heard of me kinda notice a six-foot-eight wall of a man walking around.
I kinda stand out.
I’m kinda big in more ways than just in show business.
Plus, running isn’t any fun either.
Like being alone. Always searching, always looking over my shoulder.
Always wondering, waiting.
Where is she?
Who is she?
Is there even a queen out there for this king of illusions, or am I playing the greatest trick of all on myself?
“Well,” I say loudly, clapping my hands and startling Miles. “Let’s make the last free show the best ever,” I add, comforting him with a wink.
Anyone who knows me well enough knows to avoid eye contact.
I can have a certain way when I have someone’s attention.
I can make them see, hear or even believe almost anything.
How?
Well, that would be telling. And a good magician never reveals all his secrets.
Relieved I’m not talking about refusing to do the last show. Relieved he can put all this jailbreak business behind himself, Miles sighs with confident relief.
It’s a well-rehearsed act, and everyone on my team knows their places and the timing of each part of my three-hour extravaganza.
There’s lights, loud music, and yes plenty of smoke and mirrors, but only to fill the giant stage really.