“That’s two down now,” says Jay, looking to the final volunteer where she’s sitting in the second row, a woman named Becky. “I’m coming for you next, Becky, so watch this space.”
She giggles, and Jay hops over to the other side of the stage, preparing his next piece.
I know it’s the obvious question, but how the hell does he do it? He’d have to have that painting drawn on him in advance of the show, which means he needed to know the answer before any of the volunteers were ever asked the question. Either he somehow planted the idea in the man’s head to write down that painting, or he really does have godlike super minding-reading skills, as Jerry Burke, the nutty fan claims.
As it turns out, guessing the favourite book of the last volunteer is the big finish. Jay went off stage for a moment, and now he walks back on, scratching his head. I’ve come to learn that this is how he pretends to be confused, when really everything is going exactly the way he wants it. I guess other people don’t know this because they haven’t spent as much time studying him as I have, which I’m sure he’d find disconcerting if he knew.
“Crap, Becky,” Jay says. “I still haven’t gotten you yet, have I?”
Becky shakes her head. She looks a little disappointed. Perhaps she was hoping she’d get a gift just like Rhona and her concert tickets. Jay pulls a small book out of his back pocket and lifts it up. “It’s not The Catcher in the Rye, is it?”
Becky’s brow furrows. “Um, no, that’s not what I wrote down.”
Jay throws the book aside and bites his lip. “Lord of the Rings?”
The place is quiet, and Becky shakes her head again, lifting her glass and taking a sip of her drink.
“Hey, it looks like there’s something in your glass, Becky. Can you see that?” He points.
Becky squints at her glass before fishing out an ice cube. She’s sitting in the row directly behind me, and it looks like something’s been frozen inside the ice.
“Oh, my God,” Becky breathes.
“Crack her open for me, would you, Becks?” says Jay confidently.
Jerry Burke was right about one thing — Jay is godlike, and that god would be Loki, the trickster. Becky cracks the ice, discovering the thing inside is a folded piece of paper.
She unfolds it and gasps, “It’s the first page from Neverwhere. My favourite book!”
Applause fills the venue, and Jay comes down off the stage, going to thank Becky for taking part. He takes her hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss. She blushes. He’s such a charmer. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was beginning to think he might have a thing for me, but now I see that’s just the way he is with women.
Flirty.
He gets back on the stage, walks off, and walks back on, taking a bow. The clapping continues, and when he rises, he smiles wide before his body starts to shimmer and disappear. What the hell? Was that a projection? Then the real Jay walks out from backstage, taking the same bow the projection Jay just took. The cheering deafens me as I rise with everyone else to give him a standing ovation.
This might just be the best show I’ve ever seen.
The house lights come on, and people begin to gather their things, slowly exiting the venue or going to get one last drink from the bar.
“That was flipping amazing,” says Michelle. “My brain is hurting trying to figure out all those tricks. I think I just need to give up. The man is a genius.”
I rub at my arms, trying to get rid of the goose bumps, and they aren’t from the cold. Jay exudes charisma and sex appeal when he’s on the stage. It sort of leaves you feeling empty when the show is over.
“Yeah, he definitely thinks in a different way to the rest of us,” I say just as Jessie turns up.
“Hey. Did you enjoy the show?” she asks, all out of breath.
“Of course! I’ve never seen anything like it,” I exclaim as she links one arm through mine and the other through Michelle’s.
“Come with me, ladies. We’re having a small after-party backstage, and you’re both invited.”
Thirteen
Leading us past the staff doors behind the bar, Jessie brings us down a short corridor and into a VIP room with red walls, black velvet chairs, and glass tables. Jay is standing on the opposite side of the room, signing autographs for a bunch of Goth teenagers. The only other people are two men and an older woman who are sitting at a table having drinks and chatting animatedly. They’re dressed in black like Jessie, so I’m thinking they’re more members of Jay’s stage crew.
“Oh, come on, just tell us how you two did the change when Jay put on that scary mask,” Michelle urges, trying to get Jessie to reveal some secrets.
“You know what?” Jessie chuckles. “The fucker actually had me sign a contract for confidentiality, so I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, babe.”
Michelle pouts, and Jessie asks her if she wants a drink. My friend tells her yes with a little too much of a flirtatious tone for my liking. Michelle is a great friend, but she’ll flirt with anyone who gives her compliments, male or female. I just hope Jessie is wise enough to see that.
I catch Jay’s eye just as he signs his last autograph and a bouncer comes to escort the teenagers from the room. He’s still topless and sweaty from the show as he strides over to me.
“I shouldn’t be speaking to you,” I say, poking him in the chest with my finger. It’s not an excuse to touch his bare, sweaty skin, I promise.
He chuckles, giving me an indulgent look. “Why not?”
“Because you made me a part of your act and never gave me any warning! You know I don’t like the attention.”
Now he wears a cynical, amused expression. “You loved it.”
“I did not,” I say firmly, folding my arms.
He steps closer now, looming over me, and he smells incredible. I hate that he smells incredible. His voice dips low when he takes my chin and lifts it so that I have to look him in the eye. “You fucking loved it.”
I pull away quickly. “Whatever. I’m going to get a drink.”
“Help yourself,” he says, following me as I locate a bottle of wine on a table full of drinks and start to pour. When I sit down at the table with everyone else, Jay slides in beside me, a whiskey in his hand. He still hasn’t gone to clean up or put a shirt on. Is he trying to kill me?
Jessie introduces me and Michelle to everyone else. They include Ger, the sound and light guy; Ricky, the stage coordinator; and Sharon, props and wardrobe. I feel Jay scoot a little closer as the conversation drifts around me.
I talk to Sharon for a while, interested in how she got into the whole wardrobe business. I’m actually a little jealous of her, to be honest. She has my dream job. Although Jay doesn’t have too many complicated outfit changes, so perhaps it would be my dream job if he decided to wear something a little more flamboyant. Let’s just say, if John Barrowman’s stylist up and quit, I would sell my left kidney to get the gig.
“You still pissed with me, Watson?” he asks after a while.
I roll my eyes and give him a smile as I slur, “No. I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”
“Are you drunk?”
Holding up my thumb and forefinger, I answer, “Just a little bit.”
He chuckles. “I’d better keep my eye on you, then, huh?”
I don’t answer. Can’t. There’s quiet between us before I break it. “I just don’t get how you can do all that stuff. I mean, how did you make the fire rise from your hands?”
Jay tilts head to me. “I’d like to hear your theory.”
I rub at my chin. “My guess would be that you had tubing somewhere on your body containing lighter fluid, and then flint somewhere else that helped you light it. But the flames were so big, so it had to be more powerful than that.”
His eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles at me. “You know what my secret is?” he whispers and I perk up, eager for him to actually reveal something.