Tapestry smiled.
“I’ve learned a thing or two over the years,” she said.
Shortly after, the two of them turned in to bed. The night was uneventful, and Malcolm woke up the next morning feeling alert and ready for action. He took a shower, and spent most of the day working over the fine details of the streamlined plan with Tapestry.
They still needed Fantasy’s power, though only to disguise themselves enough to avoid being recognized by the sprytes. Malcolm made himself look older, adding wrinkles to his face and turning his hair grey.
He took his time with Tapestry, transforming her into a gorgeous redhead, and enhancing both the size of her bust and butt.
“This isn’t necessary, is it?” she asked him, eyeing her newly expanded cleavage with obvious skepticism.
“We have to make sure that we look different enough to slide under the radar,” said Malcolm.
Tapestry shook her chest from side to side, getting a sense of how her new boobs jiggled. Malcolm watched with wide eyes, unable to hide the glee in his eyes over his handiwork.
“Really?” asked Tapestry. “Big breasts have that much of an effect on you?”
“…Sorry, did you say something?”
Tapestry punched him on the arm.
“I couldn’t imagine trying to move and fight with this much extra weight on my chest,” she said.
Rose has pretty big breasts, and seems to make it work alright.
He almost said it out loud, only stopping himself at the last second. Thinking about Rose made him anxious, given what was to come that night. Tapestry would have her gun on her this time. What would Malcolm do if she took aim at Rose? Would he stop her from firing, even if it meant abandoning their mission?
He put the questions on the back burner, focusing his concentration on finishing the illusions, instead. It wasn’t hard to keep them active, though he could sense that his level of sophistication would be limited compared to what he’d seen of Fantasy’s work.
In fact, Malcolm doubted he could use the illusions for anything other than disguise, and possibly making a door or hallway disappear, if he put all his energy into it.
“We should get going,” said Tapestry. It was already late in the afternoon. They’d spent the entire day in their hotel room, taking both breakfast and lunch in their room.
“There’s still half an hour until the show starts,” said Malcolm.
“We want to get good seats,” said Tapestry. “Ones that will let us keep an eye on anyone suspicious, while still giving us mobility.”
The two of them took the elevator down to the lobby. Malcolm was a little struck by the looks Tapestry received from people on the way by, and from the look on her face, so was she.
“Did you really make me that much more attractive?” she whispered.
“I think it’s your… red hair,” said Malcolm.
Definitely the boobs.
Golden Joab’s show was being held in the Hawktail Theater. It was free admission, and people were already being let inside. Malcolm and Tapestry found their seats over on the right hand side of the aisle, close enough to get up on stage quickly, and angled so they could see most of the audience without much trouble.
“I think this is the first evening date I’ve taken you on,” said Malcolm.
Tapestry frowned at him.
“I know you’re joking, but just so you know, this definitely isn’t a date,” said Tapestry.
Malcolm made a show of shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“You’re just with me for my money,” he said. “What’s a poor old man like me to do?”
The crowd filed into the theater slowly, until almost all the seats were packed with people. It was impossible to even guess at who Rose and Fantasy might have disguised themselves as, but Malcolm tried to, anyway.
He went based off height, ruling out children and the unusually tall. He couldn’t just assume that the two sprytes were disguised as women, though it was tempting. There were so many potential suspects that he had to give up after only a couple of minutes.
“We’ll just have to watch Golden Joab,” said Malcolm. “And hope that they make the first move.”
“Trust me,” said Tapestry. “They will. We just have to wait and be patient.”
The audience finished taking their seats, and music began playing over the theater’s speakers as the lights dimmed. It was the same over the top techno song from the night before, only this time, accompanied by clouds of off smelling fake smoke coming from the stage.
“He’s been called many things over the course of his life,” boomed a voice. “Leader. Visionary. Role Model. Satanist. Suspect. Daddy… But tonight, you’ll be calling him WOW!”
The song reached the drop. Golden Joab appeared onstage, down on one knee in the smoke, slowly standing to his feet like a hero in an action movie. He held his arms out to the side, slowly dancing to the music with nebulous, uncoordinated movements.
The music stopped, and a spotlight snapped on over Golden Joab.
“Are you all ready to see some… magic?”
Cheers came from the crowd. Malcolm watched, amused and apprehensive.
CHAPTER 23
“Folks, I’ve been all over the country,” said Golden Joab. “I’ve learned the secrets of the best and boastiest magicians out there. But it wasn’t until I found myself… found the courage in my own big, bleeding, bloody, tortured heart… That I really started doing magic.”
He was wearing a black suit with a black bowtie, and took a moment to press his hand into his heart theatrically. When he pulled it back, his hand was covered in blood.
“Oh no,” said Golden Joab. “It looks as though you’ve caught me red handed, pouring my heart out. Or… have you?”
He spun in a circle. Smoke erupted from his feet. Malcolm could see him rushing to pull something out of his jacket as he turned.
When the smoke cleared, he showed the crowd his hand again. Most of the red was gone, but there were still a few dots of it near his wrist. The audience broke out into tepid applause.
“Thank you, thank you,” said Golden Joab, grinning. “But really, we’re just getting started. All you need to do is sit back, relax, and let my magic rock… your… world.”
He accentuated each of the last three syllables with a thrust of his crotch. Malcolm wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“This seems like the kind of magic show you’d put on, if you had the talent,” whispered Tapestry.
“That’s not even funny,” he replied.
“When were you born?” Golden Joab had moved onto his next joke, and was calling out into the crowd. “1986? How about you? 1997? Jesus you’re young! Let’s try one more… 1982, you said? Oh, well… if only we had a birthday cake for you!”
A quiet voice from the crowd responded with something about how they weren’t actually born on the current day in 1982, but Golden Joab was already back in flow. He slapped his hands together, grunted, and then revealed a mostly crumpled cupcake with a barely legible “1982” written on it with frosting.
“There you go,” said Golden Joab, throwing the cupcake into the crowd. “Magic!”
He moved through several other tricks, which went only slightly more smoothly than the first few. He made a deck of cards explode into flames, singeing the sleeve of his jacket in the process. He made a five-dollar bill appear out of thin air, followed by “making it rain” with more money from overhead, along with a wristwatch, for whatever reason.
“Now,” said Golden Joab. “Time to get into the… real magic.”
From the suitcase onstage next to him, he pulled out an oversized top hat. He turned it toward the crowd, making a show of it being empty, and then set it upside down on the ground, so he could reach into it.
“It’s totally empty, right?” asked Golden Joab. “Wrong! There’s something in this hat. Something that will make you question your sanity, and perhaps reality itself.”