Invisible Threads--Chapter 20

Writer's Note: Please read the previous chapters and prologue of Invisible Threads before reading this.

CHAPTER TWENTY

"What time is it?"

Gary was slightly unnerved to wake up in the morning and find Cherie already awake and sitting in the chaise longue next to the bed scrolling through her phone.

"A little before ten," She replied

"What?!" He sat upright and grabbed his phone. "Why didn't the alarm go off?"

"I turned it off. You need to rest in today. Opening night. We do whatever you find most relaxing."

"I'm hungry."

"Me too. Get showered and no dawdling."

After breakfast and throughout a painfully long day, Cherie learned yet again that Gary enjoyed doing amazingly boring things. His vote for the relaxation time between the end of breakfast and Call Time had been sitting in the hotel room working on his computer. She had no one to blame but herself.

The alarm on her phone went off.

"Thank God! It's time to get ready to go to the theater. Put on lots of fresh anti-perspirant, and brush your teeth."

***

Al Parker shook her head as she watched the singer on stage stop playing her piano mid-song, throw up her arms, and stop playing. The teen-ager turned to the judges with tears in her eyes.

"Can I start over?"

Brenda Blair was the 'good cop' among the judges and spoke over Bob. "Of course, you can sweetie. Just take a deep breath. We're on your side."

The contestant tried again and was unable to finish her song before bursting into tears and running from the stage.

Al made a note on her pad to use the entire sequence. It had solid emotional content and showed the strain on the contestants. This singer was no loss, she had been middle-of-the-pack and forgettable. The meltdown was better than her performance would have been.

The director took a bite from what had become a very dry sandwich over the hours since lunch. She followed it with several sips of water to force it down while going through her other notes from the session. It had been a grueling two days as they had watched 54 acts in five 4-hour sets. Mainly singers so far. Other than the meltdown she had just witnessed, there had been some good performances.

They were in the brief, frenetic break between the afternoon set and the evening set. The evening set of the second day included both of the front-runners and would have the largest audience. They kept things to about two-thirds capacity during the other shows to allow the electricians to continue working down on the floor in roped-off areas. This final set was when they energized the voting buttons and used the audience for a couple of test runs.

"Hey Ed?"

Ed was sitting at the other end of the booth going through his own notes. "Yeah?"

"Looks like you have three magicians in the evening set. This first one has a short set up and you requested the shoulder."

"That's Richardson. They should have no problem setting up during the video. I requested a shoulder camera because his notes say that he's going to be asking one of the judges up on stage. I thought it might be good for the camera to see exactly what the judge sees."

"Why is he on first? I thought the focus groups went ape over him."

"They liked the controlled footage they saw. The guy's got an emotional range from A to A and really doesn't talk much. He's not going to give us any reaction footage in the green room so I thought I would let the other two react to him."

"Okay. Your call. Where's the video?"

"Filename Richardson005."She found the file, opened it, and put on her headset, and played the video.

"That's funny stuff. I hope his act holds up. He's got something different going on." Different was the highest praise that would come from someone in the reality television industry. Different trumped talented. If Richardson could be both, then he would be a ratings bonanza.

She moved on to the next act. Behind Al, Lacy's phone rang. Sher answered, "This is Lacy."

"Lacy, this is Door 2 backstage. Mercurio Hampton is down here and needs you to sign him in.

The winding trip down to the stage entrance took Lacy several minutes before she arrived and found Mercurio waiting with his wife, Maggie. He looked up and smiled as she approached.

She returned his smile. "Hello Mercurio, Maggie. It's so nice to see you both again. Thank you for coming."

Mercurio responded, "Thank you for the invitation. I'm looking forward to seeing the young man's act."

"I've got seats for you in the stage right wing. Before the show starts, you can look around and check into things as much as you like. You can even go out on stage. But once you hear Call announced, stay pretty close to your chair. You'll be sitting with some of the producers and their guests."

She was already losing focus on the Hamptons as her mind wandered back to one of the issues on her check sheet. She really wanted to go and see if it was a real problem or just a whining tech.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mercurio's voice: "I can see by the far-away look in your eyes that you have other places that you need to be."

She smiled. "Sorry. Yes. I really do. Do you have everything you need here?"

He returned her smile. "I'm fine. I see some grey hair around, we might even bump into someone we know."

"You probably will. Bye now."

And she was off.

Mercurio took his wife's hand without thinking and they walked out onto the busy stage. He had originally intended to come alone but this had been a bad morning physically. Those were happening more and more often of late. In the past, he had felt embarrassed when asking for her help. But now he realized that he had been given this wonderful woman to be his teammate. Why look God's gift horse in the mouth?

A quick bout of light-headedness made him stumble slightly and he felt her hand tighten in his - giving him something against which to brace. The movement was slight and no one outside of the two of them noticed.

He knew the stage well. There were two trap doors and one elevator underneath in the trap room. He thought about heading down there to see if anything had been set up. After making his way over to the top of the steep stairs, he looked down. He glanced quickly at Maggie and saw the tiny shake of her head. There was just going to have to be a limit to his thoroughness.

***

Gary's afternoon was anti-climactic. After Cherie pushed him so hard to get there early, there had been nothing to do. They sat in the green room most of the time and watched the acts from the afternoon set. Mostly singers. Cherie told him which ones she thought were good. To him, they all sounded alike. She checked the performance schedule that was posted everywhere and found that there were two magic acts. They had missed the first one, but she made Gary watch the second.

The roving camera that was always in the green room, settled in behind them and watched their reaction. Gary had none.

Cherie was extremely cognizant of the camera and turned to Gary. "He was really, really good."

Gary shrugged. "But it was a trick. It was his gun which is probably..."

Cherie grabbed his arm. "Gary, we don't ever discuss on camera how a trick is done. Its bad form."

"But I don't know how it was done. I was just guessing..."

"Don't guess in front of a camera."

"But I want people trying to figure out what I do."

"I know. You're different."

A Superstar intern came up to them at 5:30, telling Cherie to leave the green room and take her seat in the friends and family area. She kissed Gary on the cheek and left. He checked the mirror to confirm that she had not messed up his make-up. What was his world coming to?

A young man with a nametag giving his name as Matt, walked in wearing a headset and holding a tablet. This seemed to be the uniform of junior authority figures. "Okay, everybody, listen up!" The hubbub stopped instantly, and everyone focused on Matt. Let's have a quick roll call to make sure that everyone is here. He read through names from his tablet. Gary's name was second.

After that brief semi-excitement, the room settled into the normal jibber jabber of simultaneous conversations until the first contestant was called. The room quieted as contestants gravitated toward the monitors to watch the act. Within a few minutes, he heard his own name.

"Gary Richardson."

He took a breath to make sure that his nerves did not result in an embarrassing high pitch. "Yes," he said with a false calmness.

"Okay." The young female intern gave him a dazzling smile. "Ready?"

"No."

Her laugh was polite. "You'll do great. Follow me, please."

***

Mercurio wished he had gone to the bathroom when he had the chance, but now he was stuck. He glared at the culprit on the table next to him - a half-finished bottle of water. Maggie had warned him against drinking it right before showtime and she had been right... again. He tried to forget about his bladder and focus on the task at hand which was analyzing this kid's trick.

A screen had been placed in the middle of the stage on top of the elevator trap door making it impossible for Richardson to use the elevator. The other two trap doors were in plain view of the audience.

***

Gary nervously examined his costume and props as he waited back-stage. Everything was there and in order. He could hear his and Cherie's video being played but could not see it from where he stood. The audience was laughing which might be a good thing or a bad thing. He watched as the stagehands set up the screen. Then there was silence.

Fisher Tyndall finished a take with the backstage cameras and then scanned a written list on the wall labeled 'Emcee Cues'. She listened at her earpiece and then turned and gave Gary the 'Go' sign.

The trek out onto the stage felt like a death row convict's last mile, but he focused on the mark and made it there without tripping or stumbling. He pivoted directly on the 'X' and faced the judges.

Brenda Blair spoke first: "Hello Gary. Quite the lady's man, aren't you?"

This was on his flow chart. "Inter-personal skills aren't my strength."

"Is your fianchere tonight?"

"Yes. She's in the audience." He pointed in the direction he had been told as if he could see anything beyond the lights.

"A quick question before you start. It said that she's a theater major. Why not have her in the act with you?"

He relaxed. This one was on the flow chart, too. "I'm not an entertainer, I'm a physicist. What I do is not simple illusion. Having a beautiful woman on stage is a distraction for sleight-of-hand. I don't need or want such a distraction, so Cherie is not a part of the act."

Danny Michaels interrupted: "So, now she's beautiful? I thought her nose was crooked and her eyes are too far apart."

"She's beautiful because her nose is crooked and her eyes are too far apart."

Brenda threw her hands into the air. "He CAN be taught!"

The audience laughed and applauded.

Sound bite achieved; Brenda leaned into her microphone. "Good luck."

The public domain soundtrack of chanting monks started up and Gary stepped around the screen. He popped the Velcro seams of the normal looking clothes that covered a skintight black leotard with a tank top. He then put on the Buddhist monk-looking robe, which Cherie had also fitted with Velcro seams. The robe went on without problem. He slipped off his shoes, slid into the sandals, checked that the Velcro seams were closed, picked up the walking stick, and was completely dressed in seconds. He looked like a cartoon version of a Hari Krishna.

He stepped out from behind the screen.

Bent over and putting his weight on the hand-carved and oversized cane, he walked slowly back out to the mark. Cherie had made him practice moving his hand as if he were placing the end of the walking stick into a pre-determined hole. He brought the extraverse into view and felt along a thread that ran along the ground directly behind him. He found a mass large enough that seemed to be a rock or a block. He pulled that block along the thread and placed it underneath himself but left it within the extraverse. To him, it was solid and substantial. No one else could see or feel it. He rested back into it, made sure that it was firmly under his seat, and lifted his legs.

He appeared to be hovering above the ground suspended only by the walking stick on which his right hand lightly rested. It was an exact recreation of a common sidewalk magic trick that everyone had seen a hundred times.

HONK!

This was according to script but had come very quickly. Bob Standifer was the judge that honked. Gary had to skip ahead on the script before anyone else hit their honk button.

"I assume, Mr. Standifer, that you honked me because you've seen this trick before?"

"About a dozen times today along the street in front of this hotel. Yes."

"Would you mind coming up on stage?" He was supposed to sound calm, cool, and collected but he his voice was brittle.

"I don't really see the point."

"I will apologize to you publicly at the end if you don't agree it is time well spent." His voice was definitely breaking. Murmurs were coming from the audience which Cherie had warned him was a bad sign.

"Fine." Bob left his seat and walked up on stage. The walking cameraperson followed behind and a very soft whir indicated that the stringer camera was moving. Gary tried not to follow it with his eyes.

After Bob was standing next to him, Gary looked up. "Now you think that you know how this illusion is done?"

"Yes. I am pretty sure that I do."

"If you look closely at the sleeves and back of this robe, you will find Velcro seams. If you open all of the seams, you will be able to remove the robe."

From Danny Michaels: "You haven't changed your type of act, have you?"

Not the wording Gary expected but there was a flow chart entry for some strip-tease-related joke: "I assure you that I am decent."

"I'm sure you are. But are you wearing any clothes?" The old and obvious joke got a slight titter from the audience.

Bob had no problem with the seams and the robe was off in seconds. He took a step back and looked Gary over. "That's not what I expected."

"Mr. Standifer, please feel free to examine my arms and the area underneath me and anything else you wish."

Bob ran his hands along Gary's arm and across his back. He got down on one knee and waved a hand between Gary's rear and the floor. He shook Gary's arm and noted that there was no stress, it was relaxed.

Bob stepped back and appeared non-plussed. "It appears that I may have hit the horn too soon. I have no idea how you're doing this."

The audience began to applaud. Gary waved his hand at them asking them to wait. "Is there anything I could do to further convince you that this is not just an illusion?"

As if he was reading Cherie's script, Bob said, "You could hand me that stick."

Gary picked the stick up and handed it over. He was hovering above the ground with no visible support of any kind. Bob immediately took the stick and swept it over Gary's head and beneath him. It contacted nothing.

Bob stood with an astonished expression. "I'm not believing this."

The audience and judges leapt to their feet with thunderous applause. Gary focused on the object underneath him and returned it along the thread to its origin point while swinging his legs to the ground. It wasn't perfectly smooth, and he stumbled slightly. But he didn't fall.

He really didn't hear much of the judges' comments. His attention was mainly focused on the fact that he was standing in front of hundreds of people and television cameras wearing a skin-tight leotard.

Mercurio was impressed. The kid had actually baited the judges into pressing the horn. He made them actively part of the performance. And the trick itself was very different from what he had seen in the videos. This was not a one-trick pony. But his main interest was that it was a levitation trick where the judge was allowed to see it from every angle and touch and feel whatever he wanted.

The kid had given up control of perspective - which was a very big deal. But he had maintained control until after he was in place. It was not until he had established himself that he baited the judge onto the stage. Richardson had a screen on stage directly behind him, which meant that his body was blocking the view of the screen from the audience and the judges until he was levitated. Mercurio's view from the side had not been blocked and he had seen nothing.

But he had been focused on the stick. Exactly as he was supposed to be. How could you not look at the stick when you knew that was the key to the trick? But it wasn't. It was never even part of it. He had been completely hoodwinked by an unknown kid. A smile lit up his face. This was great.

Gary weathered two unsolicited hugs as he left the stage and found Cherie, slightly winded, talking to one of the Superstar mobile camera people. They stopped their conversation as Gary approached and Cherie motioned him to stop. Gary's intention was to make a request to be able to put on some pants and a shirt. Mostly the pants. Before he could say anything, Cherie turned to the cameraman.

"Ready?"

He raised the camera into position. "All set."

Cherie ran forward making a squealing sound that Gary had never heard before and threw herself into his arms. Then she kissed him... on the lips... hard. He really wished he had some pants on.

Shaking that thought off, he successfully returned the embrace and kiss without breaking anyone's teeth. Before she let go, she put her mouth next to his ear and whispered, "I am so proud of you."

No one had ever said that to him except his mother and that really didn't count because it was part of the Mom job description. Maybe it was part of the theatrical manager job description, too. Maybe it never counted.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him. "We're going to the green room, and they'll get some shots of you being congratulated by the other performers."

He was fixated on the spare clothes she was holding over her arm. "Can I have my pants?"

She handed him his pants, shirt, and slip-on shoes. He stopped and put them on over the leotard. The cameraperson pulled out her phone and checked the time.

Cherie was almost bubbly. "After this little walk of fame and a couple of quick meetings, we're done until Thursday morning. That means a day off. We can sleep in and sightsee and... whatever we want."

"Can we just stay at the hotel?"

"No. But maybe we can go see Hoover Dam or something. That's like physics, right?"

"Everything is physics, but I don't want to see Hoover Dam. There are some things I need to work through."

"It will have to wait because tomorrow we have some fun. Now turn on that winning charm. Here we go."

They could hear a staffer in the green room ahead of them telling the waiting performers to play it up big when Gary entered the room. Gary walked into a wall of noise with people pushing and shoving to pat him on the back or shake his hand or hug him. It was hell.

After an excruciating circuit around the room, they exited through the same door and they were finally being left alone.

His question was hesitant. "Is there anything else we need to do here?" He hoped the answer was no.

"Not really. If we go ahead and gather up our stuff now, we can save a special trip later."

That sounded painless enough.

She led him through the backstage chaos to the prop area. Stuff was piled in separate stacks on tables and some on the floor. Nowhere in the building was it quiet but there was less movement here than in most of the areas through which they had passed. Only one person was there. A man a little older than Gary was standing at one of the tables and going through a box. After what Gary had been through the past few hours, this was peaceful.

"Hey, Dickface!" It was, of course, Cherie.

The man turned suddenly but did not speak.

Cherie continued, "Can we help you?" She was angry and Gary didn't know why.

The man was extremely handsome and focused his smile on Cherie. His answer was calm and nonchalant. "I was just making sure everything was properly organized."

The full weight of the man's charm and disarming smile bounced uselessly off Cherie's anger. She returned the smile but hers looked like The Grinch plotting his attack on Whoville.

"Oh. You work here?"

"Yes. I'm in props."

Cherie's smile grew even colder. Gary winced slightly. He was pleased that it was not aimed at him and involuntarily stepped back.

She continued, "If I told you that I was Phase 3 for magicians back in Nashville would that maybe change your answer? Just a smidge?"

Jim Harriman's smile cracked momentarily. This was not the kind of mistake that he normally made. He knew exactly who she was from the Richardson videos and his trip to Champaign but did not recall her being his interviewer back in Nashville. He forgave himself for the lapse. Nashville had been a very hectic day and this girl was not memorable except for her diminutive height and she had probably been sitting down during the interview.

But he still had his most potent weapon available. She was a girl. He moved his weight slightly onto the foot nearest to her and turned the smile up full force adding a touch of sheepish. "Sorry, I was kind of embarrassed to get caught snooping. Yes, I'm a magician and was looking for my stuff." More smile.

"I hope you're not having trouble finding it. It is kind of confusing to figure out that your stuff is not in a box with Gary Richardson written across the side."

Harriman was non-plussed. The girl was not responding to his smile. Maybe she was lesbian. But that wouldn't make her non-human. A person didn't have to be sexually attracted to be charmed. He was getting put off his stride.

Harriman's glance toward Gary was fleeting. "Oh, is that you?" He then returned the full focus of his attention to Cherie. "Sorry, I saw the interesting cane sticking out of it and thought it was cool, so I took a closer look. Someone put a lot of work into that."

The man's explanation seemed plausible enough and Gary did not completely understand why Cherie appeared so angry.

The smile never faded. "My name's Jim. It's nice to meet you." He ignored Gary and held out his hand toward Cherie.

The extended hand brought Cherie's rage to a crescendo and she turned and spoke to Gary.

"Douchebag McCheesedick here was going through your stuff trying to figure out how you did the trick."

Gary nodded. That did make more sense than the man's version. Gary peered toward the box. "But he couldn't figure anything out from what's in the box."

"That's not the point. He was trying to steal your trick."

Gary looked back at the man who was now clearly uncomfortable. It was unlikely that this person was a trained physicist or a scientist in any field. The chances of his figuring out the "trick" were negligible.

Cherie realized that her argument was falling on deaf ears and rephrased: "He is trying to steal your idea."

With these words, she bridged the gap between theater and physics. Gary viscerally understood this and detested the pseudo-intellectual bottom feeders who tried to claim others' ideas and work as their own. She succeeded in getting him angry.

Gary held the man's gaze for a second before dropping his eyes. "Leave. Please."

The man raised his hands. "Okay. Sorry." And he headed to the exit.

They watched the man's back as he was leaving the room.

"Dick!" Cherie lashed out one last time as he disappeared through the door. There was no response.

She turned her attention back to Gary. "Welcome to the wonderful world of the theater. There's no business like show business."

"Science is no different. Maybe more subtle. Assholes are assholes."

Cherie almost laughed. Gary's forays into foul language were few and he was clearly uncomfortable with them. But they were sharing a moment, so she held it in.

"Yes. And the more notoriety you get, the more assholes are going to start snooping around. You need to be ready for that."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know. I always let them get to me. Always." Her voice trailed off for a moment.

Gary wasn't used to silence from Cherie. "He seemed kind of interested in you."

She shook her head. "He wasn't."

"But he showed all of the signs. He held eye contact for too long and stood slightly too close. He smiled a lot. You didn't notice?"

Cherie was looking down at the ground and her voice was muted. "I noticed but it didn't mean anything. He was a user."

Cherie went silent, staring into space. Once again Gary knew that there was emotional nuance here that he was missing. Information was being conveyed and he was powerless to understand it.

Cherie broke from her apparent trance and looked up at him with a forced smile. He was more than lost.

When confused, keep your mouth shut. Words are your enemy.

She pointed at the box. "Grab the box so we can get back to the hotel. We have a day off to plan." Her voice was almost back to normal.