When he has too many to handle, he starts tossing them, one at a time, to random members of the crowd. Dozens of teenagers dive for them, eager to have a little keepsake from their favourite illusionist. Jay pulls out a deck of cards and begins doing an elaborate trick with a girl named Sarah who volunteered. She seems at once mortified and delighted to have been selected. Jay walks through the crowd, shuffling the cards and detailing what he’s going to do.
He’s close to the entrance of one of the businesses that surround the area, fronted by large glass sliding doors. The sliding doors open as three women in office attire leave the building. Jay is walking backward as he speaks, and steps just inside the glass doors. He’s still talking as they shut in front of him, and as the glass closes over his body, he vanishes. The doors open again as more workers come out, and he reappears, still going on with his spiel as though he didn’t just make himself disappear.
All around me the teenagers go crazy, clapping and cheering. A few men in suits come out of the building then, and Jay bumps into them by mistake. It all happens so quickly. He apologises, patting one of the men on the shoulder, and I don’t know how I catch it, but I think I see his other hand slip inside the man’s pocket for a split second. It’s all so fast that I can’t be sure it actually happened.
The men continue on their way, but something about the whole thing niggles at me. The man Jay patted on the shoulder looked familiar, and I have to wrack my brain to remember where I’ve seen him before. Then it hits me. He’s the same old guy Jay had been eyeing up in the casino that time, the one Jessie warned him to stop staring at.
What the hell is going on here?
When I look back at the building, a sudden feeling of unease comes over me as I recall the business it houses. No, not a business, but a publication. The Daily Post, to be exact.
I’d like to think that this is a coincidence, but the little I know of Jay would lead me to believe otherwise. He’s too clever to have overlooked this. Why on earth would he stage his gathering outside the place he wants to sue?
The cards he’s using today aren’t a regular deck of cards, but a deck of tarot cards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a magic trick that involves tarot cards before. Sarah, the girl who volunteered, picks a card. Jay gives her a pen and instructs her to sign her name on the back of it, tear it up, and stick the pieces in her bag. She does so quickly.
“I’m going to guess your card, but I’m not going to tell you what it is,” says Jay. “I’m going to show you.”
There’s quiet among the gathering for a few short moments, the city sounds of people and traffic washing over us.
“Okay, the card is somewhere on the street. Can anybody spot it?”
They all get excited, running around trying to find the card, but I have a feeling it’s not a physical card they should be looking for. I peer about, trying to spot it, when Jessie elbows me and nods up at the newspaper building. There on a window on the fourth floor is the outline of a picture in what looks like red chalk.
Even though I’m clueless about tarot cards, I’d know this image anywhere. Anybody who works in law would recognise the symbol of Justice, sitting with a sword in her right hand and scales in her left.
Wow.
I’d been looking at the building closely earlier when I realised what it houses, and I definitely hadn’t seen this image on the window. My eyes would have been drawn to the colour; the red is too vibrant for it to have escaped my attention.
Finally, one of the teenagers spots it and starts shouting at everyone to look. Sarah puts her hand over her mouth in shock, not saying a word, while her friends all yell and squeal with excitement. Jay sits perched on the edge of the wall, smiling indulgently down at his fans, his chin resting on his palm. His eyes sparkle with glee as he soaks up their reactions, savouring the effect his trick has on them, the thrill it gives them. In his gaze I see him reliving a childhood that was taken away too soon, like he said to me that time in my garden.
“Was I right?” he asks Sarah. “Was Justice your card?”
All she can do is nod, words still failing her. As the crowd starts applauding him, several people shouting to know how he did it, the window on the fourth floor opens, and a woman sticks her head out.
She looks all around, probably trying to figure out where the image came from and how it managed to get on her window in the first place. Then she looks down and pauses for several moments, her eyes zoning in on Jay. Just as her expression turns angry, I recognise her. It’s Una Harris.
Fucking hell.
What does Jay think he’s doing? I mean, who puts Justice on the office window of the woman they’re planning to sue? I’ve always thought it dumb when characters in movies let their enemies know they’re gunning for them. It’s like, why give them the head start?
Harris retreats back inside her office, and I let out a long breath. Perhaps that will be the end of it, and she won’t react to Jay’s blatant taunt. Several minutes later, though, as Jay’s signing autographs for the crowd, she comes marching through the front door of the building, her arms crossed over her chest and a skinny man wearing a shirt and tie at her side.
“I want that mess cleaned from my window immediately,” she demands shrilly.
Jay casually cocks his head toward her, a momentary look of satisfaction on his face before he wipes his expression clean. He lifts his hand into the air, gesturing to the window. “Already done, Miss Harris.”
Harris turns on her heel and stares up to see that there’s a window cleaner sitting on a crane, scrubbing the image from the glass. Jessie and I both laugh. He really does think of everything.
“You think you’re so clever,” says Harris. “But if you don’t vacate the area right now, I’m calling the authorities.”
“This is a public meeting space, Una. Can I call you Una? Since you’ve gotten all up in my dirty laundry, I feel like we should be on first-name terms.”
“No, you may not call me anything,” Harris spits. “And I said you need to leave.”
“It’s not illegal for us to be here.”
“You’re causing a disruption, and you’ve put graffiti on my window.”
“And it’s being removed. Look, your window is all shiny and clean now. If anything, I’ve done you a favour.”
“This is harassment!”
Jay gives her an amused look. “Are you angry, Una? I can’t seem to tell. Your face doesn’t move all that much these days.”
The put-down about her penchant for Botox gets a laugh out of the crowd.
I think she’s finally realised she’s not going to win here, especially with all of Jay’s fans around. The man who came out with her tugs on her arm, quietly urging her to leave it alone.
“You won’t get away with this,” she fumes, and then links her arm through her companion’s before sashaying back inside.
Jay says something under his breath then, a dark expression on his face, but I can’t hear him. Once she’s gone, he continues signing for his fans. A couple of minutes into it, he pauses and scratches his head, seeking out Sarah again.
“Hey, Sarah. You know what — you never showed everyone your card to prove I got it right. I know I told you to tear it up, but can you show them the pieces?”
She rummages in the pocket of her bag where she shoved the ripped-up pieces, coming up empty.
“I…I can’t seem to find them,” she says, checking every pocket thoroughly.
Jay pulls something from his own pocket. “Wait a second, what’s this?” It’s a folded piece of paper. Jay unfolds it and smooths it out, then holds it up for everyone to see. It’s the tarot card for justice. He turns it over, and there on the back is Sarah’s signature.
“No way,” she breathes.
“Yes way.” Jay grins, handing her the card. “Is that your handwriting?”