The Duke and the DJ (The Rebel Royals 3)

"I kept you fed and in the lap of luxury all your life,” his father roared. What was left of the old lion in him reared its head. “You weren't disgusted while you were reaping the fruits of my labors."

Zhi couldn't stomach another moment around the man. He slammed the door and left him to his rages. A few moments later, Zhi heard the quiet snick of the door and the silence that told him his father had calmed down. Zhi knew his mother had gone in and tended to the man she loved despite everything he’d done to her.

Chapter Four

"And now you say the magic words ..."

"Abracadabra!”

Spin couldn’t help but grin as the adolescents’ shouts sounded all throughout the small theater. After their enthusiastic cheers, Spin added the drum roll sound effect to the cacophony. From her place just off the stage behind the curtains, she turned back to the main event.

The Great Piers Northwood, Illusionist Extraordinaire, waved his perfectly manicured slender fingers over a pristine top hat. The stage lighting caught the sparkles of the eye shadow he’d placed over his eyelids. His thin lips gleamed from the second coat of gloss Spin had watched him apply before the show.

Of course, The Great Nitwitini wasn’t holding the hat. That job was reserved for his faithful assistant. Spin’s gaze traveled to Lark whose knuckles were white as she gripped the hat. Her ruby red smile was forced. Her pale eyes shot daggers at her boss as she passed in a skimpy costume that wasn't wholly appropriate for the age group in the audience. But The Great Nitwitini insisted it was the look he wanted for his show.

Nitwitini waved his hands again and slotted her a meaningful glance. Lark let out a huffed breath. Glitter shimmied off her shoulders with the action. Taking the hat from her, Nitwitini turned the prop upside down.

Nothing came out.

The children leaned forward in their seats trying to see if there was anything to see. The rabbit that was supposed to jump out was nowhere to be seen. The silence was deafening.

Nitwitini’s smile faltered before the peering crowd of children. He nervously chuckled. “I don’t think I heard you. Say the magic words again. Louder this time so Mr. Rabbit can hear you."

The kids enthusiastically obliged. Once more, they shouted the age-old magical word. From behind the curtain, Spin played the drum roll again.

The Great Nitwitini gave his back to the children as he began his hand waving motions. He glared at Lark as he did so. Her smile was genuine this time. Spin knew her friend was enjoying the performance.

Finally, after all the fanfare, Nitwitini once more took the hat from his assistant. He

turned over the hat.

Nothing.

Nitwitini looked panicked. Lark’s gaze was innocent as she shrugged. More of the hated sparkles shimmered down from her shoulders. From her place off stage, Spin cringed. She had no idea what her friend had planned, but unlike the magician, Spin knew better than to cross the one person on the stage who actually held all the cards.

The kids in the audience began to murmur. Then their little bodies began to fidget in their seats. A small giggle broke through the murmuring. Followed by a few chuckles. Then the pointing started, and all the children broke out laughing.

The hat was still in Lark’s hands. On her shoulder, sniffing at the hated sparkles, was Mr. Rabbit. Lark dropped the hat to snuggle the white rabbit in her arms.

Nitwitini glared, his face going red.

Lark stepped in front of him and spread her bountiful arms wide and shouted "Ta-dah."

The children sprang to their feet, clapping vigorously. It took Nitwitini a second to get in line with the new reality. They all thought it was a part of the act. He quickly relieved Lark of the bunny, stepped in front of her, and took a bow, accepting the praise and the credit as though it were his.

“One of these days, you’re going to play a trick that your mouth can’t cash,” said Spin.

“He deserved it,” Lark said. “There's glitter in my bra."

Lark held up the wash towel she’d been using for the better part of fifteen minutes. The once white cloth had turned a bright shade of gold. She tossed the ruined towel in the trash bin, and the two women headed out the back of the old theater.

The afternoon air was warm as they rounded the old building. A few kids were still outside the theater surrounding Nitwitini. They didn’t look up at Lark’s approach. No one was interested in the magician's assistant. Even though the assistants performed most of the work that created the illusions while the magicians distracted the audience.

"You need your own show," said Spin.

Lark didn’t disagree. Instead, she asked a rhetorical question. “How many female magicians can you name?"

She knew Spin had no real answer. Not many people outside the magic industry did. Outside of that actress in that Hollywood movie about magic, Spin couldn't name one, even though Lark had rattled off a few names which Spin had promptly forgotten.