Magic Mansion Jordan Price (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📖

“How’s the light?” Iain said, and the cameraman told him it was fine. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. How do you feel going into this challenge?”

“I’ve been a magician for over fifty years—that’s longer than any of the remaining contestants have been alive. I’m well-versed in all the traditional magic skills, and that includes escapology.”

“Is that a real word?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Kevin Kazan’s persona is popular with a young crowd, but I plan to show there’s more involved to magic than being flashy and glib. And I will do it by pitting myself not only against the challenge, but against the most experienced escapologist in the Mansion.”

“But how do you feel?”

“I’m eager to prove myself.”

There was a pause while Iain waited for something more, but when he saw there was nothing else John had to say, he checked his watch and told the cameraman, “Let’s get Ricardo over by that window…backlit? Okay, how about by the tacky couch…?”

___

-DRAMATIC MUSIC-

“We’re now down to the Final Four,”

(Jia) I’m the last woman standing in this game. The boys had better watch out.

“and competition is fierce.”

(Kevin) I say bring it, yo. Bring it.

“Soon the magicians will be pushed to their limits in a challenge that will test them both physically and mentally.”

(Ricardo) Whatever this game throws at me, I’m one hundred percent capable of handling it.

“Our contestants are about to face off in the biggest, most intense competition yet…”

(Professor Topaz) I’m eager to prove myself.

“…for a chance at being named the Magic Mansion’s grand prize winner. Who will it be? The magician who’s put a dramatic spin on the traditional ‘Chinese conjurer’ act, Jia Lee? The streetwise street magician who could sell a wallet to a pickpocket, Kevin Kazan? The ex-skater who traded his silver blades for silver rings, Ricardo the Magnificent? Or the imposing illusionist who’s proven that great magicians don’t just get older, they get better—Professor Topaz?

“I’m your host, Monty Shaw. Stay tuned to see who will be crowned the Grandmaster Magician…in the Sands of Time challenge, on Magic Mansion.”

___

John wasn’t sure exactly what the final challenge of Magic Mansion had in store for him, but he was fairly certain it would be big. He stood, sequestered in a curtained-off stall, nodding as the stunt coordinator made him practice a special head-nod that meant, “I give up,” from within the confines of a straitjacket. And then he was made to reassure everyone that he was perfectly capable of performing this move while hanging upside-down.

Given the amount of construction noise that had been leaking through the basement window all week, the scale of the final challenge shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to John. And yet, somehow, now the sounds coming from beyond the curtain—machines and crew—were daunting. He was tempted to reach out with True magic and try to get a sense of what lay ahead, but it was too risky to put his feelers out. And he supposed he would find out soon enough. He couldn’t resist peeking, though. Not to get a look at the game, but to try to see one of his fellow players.

John found a seam in the curtain. In the cloth cubicle to one side of him, Ricardo chatted with a sound tech as he was being miked. John tried to catch his eye, but Ricardo was occupied. He had his eyes on the prize.

Or maybe he was still angry over the way John had handled things.

Now that John thought about it, he realized that depriving Ricardo of the opportunity of being restrained by Ken Barron could easily turn out to be a mistake. In the short term, it might actually help Ricardo win the competition. But in the long term, what if Ricardo did indeed win—and he attributed that win not to the fact that John wished him to have every possible advantage, but the notion that John thought he wouldn’t be able to handle Ken Barron. And yet, what kind of jerk would John have felt like if he’d just allowed the chips to fall where they may?

Maybe there hadn’t been any right way to handle it.

Somewhere in the yard, a diesel engine revved. Marlene’s voice rose above the hubbub, snapping at the tech to tape down a cable. Wind played through the tops of the dry palms.

The best course of action in the dining hall, John decided, would have been to think long-term and simply play to win, as he and Ricardo had promised each other early on. It was obvious now. But the whole reality show experience was so unlike anything he’d ever encountered, his decision-making skills were not exactly stellar at the moment.

Look at me. John strained to catch Ricardo’s eye. But Ricardo had a medic talking in his ear, fitting him with a blood pressure cuff. He didn’t have time to reassure John. Nor should he need to.

But while John had been looking at Ricardo, the contestant on his other side was scoping him out: Kevin Kazan. A chill raced down John’s spine when he turned away from Ricardo and saw a gap in the opposite curtains, and Kevin’s steely eyes fixed firmly on him. “Pro-fess-or Topaz,” he said. “Wanna go out wit’ a splash.”

“We’re magicians. What other way is there?”

“Gotta give you props for playin’ smart. Yes I do.”

John had no desire to engage in the conversation. He stared at the curtain straight ahead.

Kevin went on despite the fact that John wasn’t looking at him. “This way, when you crash and burn, it won’t be ’cuz you were too weak to outdo the younger, stronger players. It’ll be ’cuz you picked the biggest challenge. So you come out looking pretty good anyway. For a loser.”

The audio assistant approached with his tape and wires, and John lifted his vest to allow the equipment to be attached to the back of his shirt.

“I had an older brother who bought it over in Iraq a couple-a years ago,” Kevin said through the gap in the curtain.