Jim took off the sequined jacket and set it on the chair. The two burly men, and his two female assistants who were usually planted throughout the crowd followed him into the tiny closet of a dressing room that he shared with three other performers, all on different shifts.
“What’re you gonna do now?” asked one of the burly men, getting undressed before them. Both men had been exotic dancers, before one got a disfiguring scar along his back and the other full back tattoo of angel’s wings. Both were comfortable being naked among the women, and also in front of the man they worked for.
Jim kept his eyes on the two women, tree-hugging sisters from Omaha trying to make a name for themselves as magicians in their own right. Jim tried to dissuade them – magic was a man’s domain as he had found out himself – but they were determined to break through that glass ceiling.
Regardless, Jim had his own issues to deal with. Unless the man was susceptable to being put under hypnosis, Jim couldn’t put him in the coffin because, like the town he worked in, what happened in there, stayed in there. Jim ran a hand through his neat black hair. “I dared him, let’s see if he picks it up.”
The two girls looked at each other, then back at Jim. One asked, “Jim, what goes on–”
“I told you before,” Jim said, “I’ll tell you when the time is right and now it isn’t right.”
“We’ve been here for six months!”
“I’ve been here for two years,” Jim said, standing up, his eyes going dark indigo. “Do you think I learned this in six months?”
The girls looked sufficiently chastised. “Now, let’s get out of this hotbox and you two can show me the two tricks I taught you last night.”
Jim turned to one of the burly men and tapped him on the arm, looking up at him, and giving him a nod. The man nodded, and Jim gave a hint of a smile. The smile disappeared utterly when turning back to the women. “Our usual haunt.”
The five left, the men parting ways at the door of the hotel, the women and Jim continuing on to a small diner off the strip. As the girls prattled incessantly about pickpocketing – which they did on the side once Jim had taught them how – Jim realized that he had been a true stage magician for almost ten years. It wasn’t until five years ago that he himself had broken through the glass ceiling and got to learn not just stage magic, but real magic. Magic that dealt with people’s souls.
He glanced at the two women, sighing. To learn magic, they were giving up pieces of their souls every night, and they didn’t seem to mind it one bit.