Magic Mansion (37 page)

Kevin swung fully around to look at each of his competitors in turn, then faced Monty again, and said, “I knew them other players had alliances, Monty. I knew I had to watch my back. And so I chose…” he flipped his card. And he paused.

And he
smiled
.

“…to keep my points for myself.”

The scoreboard flickered, and Kevin’s time went from 6:32 to 4:20, launching him up past Bev, past Jia, and even past Sue. All the way to third place.

BIG TOP CHALLENGE

1. Professor Topaz 2:59

2 Ricardo the Magnificent 3:08

3. Kevin Kazan 4:20

_________________

4. Sue Wozniak 4:27

5. Jia Lee 4:56

6. The Math Wizard 5:41

John stared at the numbers, sure that there must be some error. That Kevin couldn’t possibly be in third place after John, Ricardo and even Bev saddled him with a penalty. But Sue started to cry again, and Bev muttered, “Aw, nuts,” and the frigid certainty that the scoreboard was indeed correct settled in John’s gut, colder even than a pool of ice cubes and cherry Kool-Aid.

___

A long, hot shower helped to dispel the chill of the Kool-Aid dip, but it didn’t do much to mitigate the dread John felt in knowing that although he himself had managed to land in Magic Mansion’s Final Four…so had devious, resentful, and perhaps even
dangerous
Kevin. He would need to be careful. And he would need to do his best to keep his energy calm, to ensure he drew as little destructive spite to himself as possible. He accepted the heartfelt congratulations of the crew for his performance in the Big Top Challenge with as much humility as possible, then he adjusted his route to swing past the bar and help himself to the very good scotch. No one stopped him from commandeering the bottle. In fact, crafts services gave him a turkey club to enjoy along with it.

John paused in front of his door and balanced his tray on his hip while he dug his key out of his robe pocket, but when he finally found it and raised it to the lock, he saw his door was ever so slightly ajar.

Cameras. No doubt someone had tucked one into every nook and cranny. Now they’d undoubtedly make him out to be an alcoholic for the sake of adding to the drama. He toed the door open with the sole of his shower sandal, considering exactly how risky it would be to do another True sweep of the room, when he got a good look at the actual culprit who’d broken into his quarters.

Sprawled on his bed in a pair of skimpy black briefs, hands tucked behind his head, smiling…lay Ricardo.

John set the tray on the nightstand, and said in his best serious voice. “Who let you in?”

“A three-pin lock? C’mon…I could’ve picked that when I was twelve—blindfolded. You’ll need to do better than that to keep me out of your bed.”

“Indeed.” He looked Ricardo up and down. The skating, the juggling—that must have been what was so perfect about his physique. Yes, he was meticulous about hitting the gym, but not just for show…and the results were captivating. “You’re not concerned anyone saw you coming here?”

“Concerned? Heck, I made sure they did. I told everyone I ran across I was paying you a visit. And that I hoped wardrobe let you hold on to those thigh-high boots.”

“Ricardo….”

“I’m proud of who I am. And I’m proud of us. I refuse to sneak around—I have nothing to hide.”

Nor, after the huge Casey revelation at the theatre, did John.

He allowed his robe to slide open, climbed into the creaky bed, and fit himself up against Ricardo, pushing his back to the wall. Ricardo’s eyelids dropped half shut, and he luxuriated in the press of their bodies with a long, contented sigh. He eased into a kiss, slow and gentle—and when, after several easy moments, he was satisfied, he said, “We made it to the Final Four, John. We team up against Kevin…and one of us has got to beat him.”

“Nothing is sure,” John said—and yes, he was fully aware of what a wet blanket he could be. And so he added, “But this, now, is the biggest prize I could hope for.”

___

V
IDEO
D
IARIES

Jia Lee

Let’s face it, I’m an illusionist, a performer. Not a mathematician. I tried to protect myself—and I totally blew my chance at knocking Kevin out of the game.
 

That’s gonna haunt me.
 

For sure.

Bev the Math Wizard

I’m out of my league at this point, and I’m well aware of it. Strategy can only take you so far—especially now that we’re competing as individuals, and I don’t have a team to take up the slack for my physical limitations. I’ve got aches in muscles right now that I didn’t even know existed.

On the plus side—seeing Professor Topaz tearing through that course was pretty darn inspirational…when I get home, the first thing I plan to do is look into a gym membership.

Sue

I miss my Gold Team.

This isn’t fun anymore.

-CRYING-

I’m so…disappointed.
 

Kevin Kazan

Look out, yo, ’cuz Kevin Kazan in the Final Four. That quarter-mill prize? I’m gon’
crush
anyone who gets in my way.

“Tough talk. It’s been a big day at the circus for our six remaining magicians, and now two of them…are going home. Who’s it going to be? The modern-day Chinese conjuror who’s proved that even in a man’s world, every woman has a fighting chance? The fifty-nine year old grandmother of three who’s made it this far on brains instead of brawn? Or the inspirational Gold Team leader, who’s bereft without her team?

“I’m your host, Monty Shaw, bidding you farewell until next time, when it’s up to you to decide…who will make it…to Magic Mansion’s Final Four.”

Chapter 33

FINAL FOUR

The cleanup following the Big Top Challenge was both extensive and loud. The metal bleachers boomed like thunder as they were dismantled. The truck that hauled the bounce castle away roared as if the muffler was hanging by a rusted pipe. And the crane made a shrill “backing up” alarm as it maneuvered clumsily off the lot. The ice, at least, had melted quietly…though John found it difficult to muster much annoyance for any of it. He’d woken with Ricardo nestled against his back. And nothing else mattered.

Voices from the yard carried through the weed-choked window, and then hammering. Ricardo murmured something groggy into the nape of John’s neck. John lay still, allowing Ricardo to hover there at the cusp of sleep as long as possible. Just enjoying the press of their skin, thigh to thigh, chest to shoulder blade. And once wakefulness began to steal over Ricardo in earnest, the press of something more.

John arched his back and stroked Ricardo’s morning-hard cock with his ass, and Ricardo’s breath caught as, all at once, he found himself very awake.

Their time in the Mansion was drawing to a close. One more final challenge? No, more likely, two. One to gain some sort of advantage and another for the win. And then…freedom.

John reached for the dwindling bottle of lotion on the nightstand and handed it back over his shoulder. Ricardo mm’ed his approval, and the smell of herbal fragrance enveloped them as Ricardo squirted it into his palm, faux green tea, or aloe, or whatever the trendy scent of the day was. It felt cold, but then Ricardo’s hard cock pressed against his ass, and very soon it was no longer cold at all. John spread his knees and arched his back more assertively, and luxuriated in the satisfying stretch, the pressure, the plunge. Ricardo continued to murmur hot, wordless noises in John’s ear, angling himself, working those sinuous hips, slowly at first, then faster. Harder.
 

The bed didn’t feel like John’s bed. And the body clasped to his back didn’t feel anything like Casey. And yet, John felt profoundly and utterly secure that somehow, when he’d least expected to find it, he’d stumbled onto something right.

They peaked, not quite as one, but all the better to enjoy each others’ broken gasps of ecstasy. And afterward, they simply lay together. Damp. Sated. Drifting yet again on the heady languor of newfound bliss.

Even the knock on the door wasn’t enough to startle them out of it. “Professor?” one of the assistants called through it.

“Yes?” John’s trademark baritone was rusty from disuse…the morning had needed no words to complete it.

“Announcement in the ballroom in an hour. Semi-formal, no challenge.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“And, uh…maybe you could let Ricardo know?”

Ricardo smiled into the crook of John’s neck; John ran his fingers through Ricardo’s hair. “I believe he heard you.”

They listened as the assistant knocked on Bev’s door and gave her the same instructions, and then turned and walked back down the creaky hall. Once the aide was gone, Ricardo sighed, his breath tickling John’s shoulder. “I guess that means we’d better get ready. Plus I really need to talk to Sue, see how she’s holding up—”

“Ricardo.” John spoke the name softly, but with the gravity he usually reserved for the world
behold
.

Ricardo went quiet, and utterly still.

Once he was sure he had Ricardo’s attention, John went straight to the point. Perhaps he could wait, until they had more time, or at least more privacy. But John had made up his mind that there was nothing to gain by waiting, and potentially, everything to lose. In a world where no one lived forever, any chance at happiness needed to be seized before it was too late. John cleared his throat, and said, “On one hand, I can’t wait to get out of this place. But on the other…” he stroked the contour of Ricardo’s shoulder… “I regret that it’s almost over.”

“John….”

John placed his finger against Ricardo’s lower lip to quiet him. “Because I’ve found something here that I didn’t realize I was missing.”

Ricardo watched John for a long moment, and then finally whispered, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I…love you.”

They lay together for just another moment, gazing into one another’s eyes, to bask in their shared delight.

___

Ricardo supposed it would be obnoxious to strut too obviously as he headed back toward his room. But he wanted to. He should probably plan out what he was going to wear—but, really…who cared? In light of the fact that he was madly, crazily, hopelessly in love, and that John loved him too, who gave a damn about wardrobe?

He was smiling so hard his face hurt. The crew obviously noticed it too. On the trek from John’s room back to his own, Ricardo received his fair share of raised eyebrows and knowing looks. And he could barely contain himself from blurting out to everyone, “I know, isn’t it awesome?”

Though when he rounded the corner of the dorm hall, he felt his smile slip. Sue’s door was just a few feet away from his. He’d need to pass it to get to his own room and his own shower. It was only a door, the same as every other door in the hall. And yet, something about its quiet vigilance made Ricardo feel as if maybe he should have been there for Sue as she dealt with facing her first time on the chopping block. He was dying to tell her that John had broken the L-word barrier…though he supposed he would need to wait for a better time, now.

He paused, made sure he looked appropriately somber, and rapped on her door. “Who is it?” she called. Startled? Anxious? Crying? Hard to tell.

“Ricardo.”

“Hold on.” Shuffling, and then the door opened a crack. Sue pressed her face through the small gap and said, “Hey!”

“Hey.” She didn’t look like she’d been crying—at least, not recently. But she looked strange without any makeup on and her hair all in disarray. Young. But still cute. “So…how’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “Uh…you?”

“Me? I’m fine. I’m not the one who has to go in front of Monty in an hour.”

Sue dropped her voice to a whisper. “What do you mean?”

“You know.” Ricardo put on a bad Australian accent, “And the magician going to the Final Four is….”

“Oh! Yeah. That.” Sue shrugged. “I’ll be fine, Ricardo. Whatever happens.”

“Okay….”

Before he could determine if she was actually fine, or if she was just really good at putting on a cheerful face, she said, “But I gotta get ready now. I’ll see you downstairs,” and closed the door.

Was she angry with him for disappearing after the last challenge and then waiting until an hour before taping to touch base? He hoped she wasn’t. She didn’t sound angry, though she did sound somehow…odd.

He went into his room and picked out tuxedo slacks, a vest, and a silk shirt with flowing sleeves, hung them by the shower so any wrinkles could steam out of them, and turned on the water…but he couldn’t stop thinking about how strange and distracted Sue had seemed.

She probably hadn’t meant for him to give up on talking to her so easily. Ricardo glanced at the clock. He still had plenty of time. He’d simply go knock again and….

Just as he opened his door, Sue opened hers. Or so he assumed. Until he realized it wasn’t Sue at all stepping through that door.

It was Monty Shaw.

He was wearing jeans (Ricardo had never seen him in jeans) and sandals (ditto) and a slinky burgundy T-shirt that made the shade of blue in his eyes sparkle like a sun-drenched sky—and his hair was wet, as if he’d just washed it. They locked gazes, both startled. Monty recovered first. He smiled shyly, and said, “G’day.”

“Hey.”

“Guess I’ll…see you downstairs, too.” With that, Monty closed Sue’s door carefully behind him, turned, and headed off to wardrobe.

Sue’d been acting weird, all right. What a relief it had nothing to do with him—and that it was good-weird.

Once Ricardo had dressed and the stylists were finished with him, he made his way to the ballroom. The tension there was thick enough to cut with a knife. The women, each of them up for elimination, sat quietly. Kevin Kazan paced by the window like he wanted to escape. Monty, in a snazzy gray Armani and his hair styled, was running lines with Iain. John was still in makeup. Although Ricardo didn’t want to make anybody cry into their foundation, he couldn’t simply say nothing to his girls. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that Sue had received her fair share of “consolation” the night before, since she seemed a heck of a lot more collected than he’d seen her in quite some time.