The one thing everyone’s come to see is yours truly, and as big as I am, I still need help filling a three hundred foot stage to make it look like folks are getting what they paid for.
Or in tonight’s case, getting what I’m putting on for free.
Part of every show involves some audience participation. Some live and some rehearsed.
Yeah, there are a couple of my team in every crowd that get picked.
How else would we pull off some of these stunts?
Putting someone who has no idea into a situation like that could be dangerous.
Although the only real danger in any show involves me.
I’d never put anyone else at risk.
Everything that people see is real, just sometimes there’s a trained assistant or three to help me pull it off.
Before every show, backstage, there’s a little pow-wow and I’m shown on a series of monitors where the plants will be.
A ‘plant’ is one of us, a trained assistant planted in the crowd.
They’re changed regularly and pointed out to me before each performance so I know where to look when I ‘select’ an audience member.
“Wait, wait,” I say, stabbing a thick finger at a screen.
My heart is suddenly in my throat.
“Who's that?” I ask, moving my finger so I can see her better.
Miles hums to himself for a moment before checking a clipboard.
“Uh… She’s a nobody. Not on our list,” he says, and checking his watch he lets everyone know we have five minutes before showtime.
It should give me a thrill. Even after all these years, I should still get the pre-show adrenalin. But my eyes are fixed on the screen in front of me.
It’s like the whole world vanishes. Like I’ve been confronted with some sort of magic even I can’t figure out.
“Who is she,” I repeat, not budging.
Not even when the house lights dim and the theme music for the show jumps to life through the whole arena.
She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. That’s who she is.
I’ve been in this business for over twenty years. Seen more blondes than rabbits outta hats.
But this blonde.
This girl is different.
I can just feel it.
Not to mention feel something else grow in my pants.
“C’mon, Jett. Places, man,” Miles gripes in my ear, wanting this last free show to be over as much as I thought I did.
But all that’s changed now.
My eyes and ears ignore Miles, drifting back to what needs thorough and immediate attention.
The house lights are low, almost pitch black. But being right at the front near the stage lights, I can make her out just fine.
Her blond hair is tied back, showing a smooth youthful, and round face. A button nose and wide, clear blue eyes I can see even on the tiny screen in front of me.
Plainly dressed, I see a pink blouse with a white cardigan over it. Her full chest makes me swallow hard as I realize how it must feel when I put people ‘under’.
I’d never say it aloud, but she has me under her spell which is ironic. Because she doesn’t even know she has a fucking spell.
She is the magic.
The mystery girl is seated for now, but even from here I can see pressing against her plain white skirt, she has curves in all the right places, not just her chest.
Curves I’m obsessed with, along with her full, pouty lips that she chews on occasionally.
Like she’s undecided about something.
Unsure.
Nervous even.
I feel my brow knot in annoyance, already protective of my newest and most favorite thing in the world.
But not a thing.
A person.
The only person I need to see up close and personal, not just as an image on a screen. But, right. Fucking. Now.
“Uh… Jett? C’mon now, quit fooling around. You’re on in two minutes,” Miles growls, forcing a smile for the benefit of the already nervous crew who are used to everything running like clockwork.
“We’ll open with the finale,” I tell them all. The confused looks don’t even register with me as I turn to Miles.
“Open with the fucking finale!” I snap. “I need to be front and center of that stage right now,” I shout, seeing every available hand scramble to change the sequence of the show.
It’s doable, sure. But in two minutes?
We’ll see.
The finale is where I’m chained, handcuffed, and usually blindfolded then dropped into a tank.
The reinforced glass and steel tank filled with icy water that also locks automatically from the outside after a certain amount of time isn’t just for effect.
It’s very real.
The tank escape is set as the last trick of the show because it drains me, wipes me out physically.
It’s only gone wrong once before, Years ago when I was still developing my act.
There are always medics on hand to help if I do miss my timing though, which is rare.
But I could walk on boiling oil right now if it meant getting a better view of my mystery girl.