Before I know it, we're off again. No more time to ponder death. I've read the essentials through many times, but most of it is going to be on-the-spot decisions. I need to get my mind off it; enjoy the now.
We're in Art's private jet again. We're flying to New Orleans during Mardi Gras, no less. I sit myself at a table seat, planning to play with some cards. But then this girl boards. All I know is she's Arthur Tressler's daughter, her name is Jasmine, and she shows up to everything he does.
Jasmine walks over to me and asks, "Can I sit here?" She points to the seat across from me.
"Sure," I shrug as I shuffle the deck, only glancing up when she sits. Jasmine's dressed formally in a pink jacket and tan dress pants. Her brown hair falls in a wave onto her shoulders. I've never seen her not smiling and she's cute.
"So, what're you doing for the show? Last show you didn't do much," Jasmine asks. I slip the deck back in the box.
"True; that sucked. The New Orleans show will be so much cooler. I've got two solo tricks this time. It's going to be awesome," I look up at her and grin. It's impossible not to be happy around Jasmine.
"What?" She says, leaning back into her chair.
"Well, I can't tell you what the tricks are, if that's what you're asking," I say, raising an eyebrow.
Jasmine smirks. "Each of the Four Horsemen has a sort of specialty," Jasmine points out. "Henley's the daredevil with magic stunts, Merritt's the mentalist, and Daniel's the showman. But we haven't seen yours."
That stumps me. I haven't really thought about it, so I tell her, "Just wait until the show. I'll give you a hint: it involves cards."
"No way," Jasmine replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Danny, who's been sitting up in the front of the plane, suddenly stands up and walks by me. Here's my chance to bring it up. "Oh, hey, Danny, can I talk to you about my role in the show real quick?"
"Yeah, sure…," He pats my head and keeps walking, clearly not intending to talk to me. I brush it off and give Jasmine the 'can you believe that guy?' look.
"Hey, guys," Danny says to Henley and Merritt, who were talking behind me. "We got a show to prepare for."
Merritt stands up. "Do we now?" He asks, staring into his eyes.
Danny turns away, shaking his head, and the argument moves in front of me, "No, don't do that. You're not doing that thing to me, no."
"What thing? I'm just looking at you," Merritt says with a mischievous grin.
"No, you're not. I've been watching you for a year. I know all of your little tricks."
"Is that what they are to you? Tricks?"
"Yes," Danny counters like it's the obvious answer, "It's gimmicks. It's Barnum statements. It's reading the eyes; body language. I get it."
"If it's such an easy thing, why don't you do Henley?"
"Yeah, Danny," Henley cuts in from behind Merritt. "Why don't you do me?"
"No, you're too easy. I'll do," Danny scans the room for anyone else. "Jasmine," He decides, placing his hand on her shoulder. Jasmine looks up at him, smiling.
"No," Art says from up front. We all turn to look at him. "Do me."
"Oh, yeah," Merritt looks delighted, like Christmas had come early. "Do Art. Even better."
Now it seems like a natural argument, we've all seen this coming. Merritt vs. Daniel. However, this argument has a purpose. This fake challenge will provide us with answers needed for the show. We need to find information on Art, so what could be better than letting him tell us himself?
"Okay, Art," Daniel agrees. Ah, this'll be good. Even though it's fake, Daniel's still trying to do Merritt's act and read his mind. Jasmine and I move to where Art's sitting.
Most of the time, Art keeps a calm composure. He's hardly ever distressed; he's mostly in a good mood. So, he's correct when he says, very matter-of-fact, "But I'll warn you, I can be difficult to read when I want to be."
"Just stay with me, okay?" Danny looks a little distressed, but he's not going to back out of a challenge. He inhales, "So, Art, you were a tough kid. You know… kind of a real rapscallion. You had a dog; a real tough dog; a brutish breed. Like a real… I want to say, Ben the bulldog." Danny stops with an expecting look, eyebrows raised as he waits for Art's response.
"Actually, I was a prissy little tot. I had a fluffy white cat called Snuffles," Art says and then bursts into laughter. We all laugh.
Danny hits the wall in frustration. "Sorry," he says quickly when Art glares.
As I'm still laughing, I say, "Wait, let me try one. I can do way better than that."
"Let him do it," Henley agrees, pointing to me.
"Come on, give me one more time. One more time," Danny says, raising his arms to shush us. "Family. Let's do family. You had an uncle on your mother's side. He had a real, kind of… a real masculine name. A real, kind of, salt-of-the-earth… You know a real stick-it-to-you… Like it was some kind of Paul Thompson. Was it a Paul…? Okay. You know what? I got nothing," Danny sighs.
"Nearly though," Art replies sympathetically.
"Was I?" Danny looks hopeful.
"Yeah. My uncle's name was Cushman Armitage," Art bursts into laughter again. We all join him.
"Really? Snuffles and Cushman Armitage? That was your childhood?" Danny asks.
"I certainly hope tonight's show is going to be better than this," Art says, as he looks around to all of us.
"Don't worry," Danny gives him a dry chuckle. "Just you wait."
The four of us are in one of the backrooms of the Savoy Theater in New Orleans, preparing. Every room in this place looks as if it was built in the 1850's or something; everything's made out of stone. Pillars and warm-colored curtains are everywhere.
I'm preparing/dozing on the couch with the iPad, half-listening to Merritt's unsuccessful attempts to "woo" Henley on the couch over. Henley seems unimpressed and focuses on the rabbit in her lap instead. Whenever this sort of thing happens, Danny gets this disgusted and offended look on his face. I might be the only one to notice this.
Due to the Four Horsemen's escape from any punishment whatsoever for the bank robbery, the press, good and bad, has jumped on the topic. Arthur Tressler had a Skype interview with Conan, which I didn't even notice I was in. It was during the flight and apparently I'm in the background, talking to Jasmine. That interview was a positive thing; they just mentioned how giving money to the audience was a good way to get the public's attention. No kidding.
"Pardon the intrusion," A deep voice says as it enters the room. I lift my head. It's none other than Thaddeus Bradley himself. Bradley is an older brown-skinned man with the voice of God. Tonight he was dressed up in a classic black suit and a fedora. He neglected any sort of tie. I roll my eyes as I quit Fruit Ninja. (I'm a boss; those fruits have no chance.)
Thaddeus Bradley would fall under the negative press category. Bradley used to be a magician, but he basically sucked, so he changed careers from aspiring magician to magician debunker. He had the know-how, but not the talent. Now he uses his intelligence for evil and ruins the lives of many magicians by showing the public how their tricks are done. Bradley has made it clear that he's going after us next and he's also helping out the FBI.
Bradley takes a step forward and continues, "I just wanted to wish you good luck tonight."
"What, so you can try to expose us later on your little website?" I say.
"And on demand," Bradley adds, smiling evilly.
"That's not going to happen," Henley tells him.
"Oh, no?" Bradley was enjoying taunting us. "Operating on a special plane because of the Eye? I heard it's a lovely place; lots of star shine and moonbeams. Make any magician's wish come true. You've come a long way, much further than anyone would have expected of a bunch of wannabes and has-beens."
I have no idea how he found out about the Eye, but I don't appreciate being called a wannabe.
Merritt stands up at that statement. "Oh, if by "has-been" you're referring to me, I just want to say I'm flattered, because I always considered myself a never-was," Merritt starts to pull on his suit jacket. "Do you mind if I do a quick read on you?"
"By all means," Bradley says, amused.
"Okay, I'm picturing a little boy. He wants to be a great magician someday. And though he's good, he's not quite good enough. So he ends up at the bottom of the entertainment food chain, feeding off of those who have the talent that he never did. Tell me, am I getting close?"
Bradley is no longer amused and turns to leave.
Then Danny stands up, "Wait. Before you go, I'm working on something new." He walks over to where Bradley and Merritt are standing. "Do you have a second? Okay, name a card."
Henley brings the rabbit over and I follow, joining the group.
"King of hearts," Bradley says.
"Knew it," Merritt says.
Danny holds a deck in his right hand and then snaps his fingers at it. Shakes it and then blows air on it.
Bradley scrunches up his face; he seems to think he knows this one. "It's up your left sleeve."
"Is it?" Danny looks up his sleeve and holds it open, showing the four of us."No, no, don't see it there." He points to Bradley. "You know, why don't you check your unnecessary velveteen pocket there?"
He looks at it. "Yeah," Danny says.
Bradley pulls the card out. The type on it reads, 'Suck it.'
"Anyway, thank you so much for coming by," Danny says with fake sincerity, "But this is kind of a talent only area, so…"
Bradley tosses the card away and he walks out. "Break a leg."
"Hey," Merritt calls. "You break something, too."