Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(28)

Kira was watching him skeptically. I couldn’t blame her. In the past, the magician had come to my table and twisted the forks like they were putty and made our glasses seem to pop straight through the tablecloth. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this act, but it felt cheesy.

“Does anything on here mean anything to you two?” he asked. He set the card down on the table between us.

I frowned at the numbers and letters on the card. At first glance, it all looked like nonsense. Then I noticed the numbers scribbled in bold black ink were my birthday. I grinned. “How’d you do that? This is my birthday.” I tapped the date.

Kira was looking very intensely at the card as well. “That’s the name of the band Iris and Miranda always said we’d start when we were kids. Lampshade Confessional Phone Booth.” She saw the look I was giving her and smiled. “Don’t give me that look. We were like twelve, and those were the kind of band names that were popular.”

I laughed. “No. Lampshade Confessional Phone Booth is not the kind of band name that will be popular. Ever.”

She gave me a sour smile but then looked up at the magician. “Seriously,” she asked. “How did you do that?”

“I told you. I had a dream about the two of you.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, the real magic is the kind nobody else will believe, so I still have to do this to earn a living.” He picked up a spoon from our table, ran his thumb and forefinger down its length, and set it back down. The handle was twisted in a neat curling pattern.

Kira looked at him with openmouthed astonishment. “You didn’t tell me we were going to see real magic.”

I laughed. “I doubt it’s real.”

The magician leaned back and raised his eyebrows. “Doubt isn’t certainty, though, is it?” He walked off, leaving me to wonder if any of the other scribbles on the card had significance.

“Seriously,” Kira said quietly. “I think that was a real-life wizard.”

“He probably overheard us talking about some stuff and wrote it down when we weren’t looking.”

“You don’t think you’d remember if I told you what we wanted to name our band when we were twelve? And I know you didn’t tell me your birthday.”

I sighed. “I actually feel a little bad I didn’t let Cade come now. Seeing this probably would have been the highlight of his life.”

The waiter came a little while later and took our orders. Kira and I occasionally dropped our eyes to the card and tried to figure out what any of the other random numbers and words meant but couldn’t quite puzzle it out. I should have thanked the magician, though. The greatest magic trick had been that his stunt momentarily made Kira forget to have her guard up.

“So what happens after tonight?” Kira asked suddenly.

“Tomorrow.”

“Smart-ass. I mean with you and me.”

“Well, next you’ll have to teach me how to help you direct your play.”

“This is really your plan? Force me to be around you and hope that I’ll eventually forget I hate you?”

“So you’re saying it won’t work?”

She shook her head slowly, then grinned. “I hope not.”

“Hey, all evil plans aside, I really do think it’d be kind of fun to help you direct a play.”

“Pardon me for having trouble imagining that’s true.”

“Seriously. I always thought if I’d chosen another line of work, maybe I would’ve done something where I got to work with kids. Teaching wouldn’t have been so bad.” I was a little surprised by my own admission. I realized what I was saying was true, even if I’d never seriously considered it.

“I think your students would get too distracted. Particularly the female ones.”

“Oh?” I asked. “And why would that be?”

Kira’s cheeks flushed red. “Because they’d wonder how such an ass managed to make it through an interview?” She let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “You know, I’m sorry. I take that back. Besides your utter bullheadedness in trying to force your way back into my life, you haven’t been an ass. You’ve actually been pretty decent.”

“I’ve been on my best behavior. It’s only once you let your guard down that I’ll allow my true colors to show.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But now I’m supposed to believe your true colors involve dreams of teaching high school and helping direct low-budget plays?”

“Correction. Your play now has as big a budget as it needs. Smoke machines. Laser shows. Pyrotechnics. Whatever we need.”

“It’s a play, not a concert.” She laughed. “Seriously, though, you think you would like teaching? Are you saying you don’t enjoy what you do?”

I shrugged. Her question wasn’t something I’d even begun to unpack myself. “It’s not that, exactly. I think I enjoy the result of what I do, but not the process.”

She tilted her head but nodded. “I think I know what you mean. That’s how I feel with the, uh, sweaters,” she mumbled.

I smiled. “The rodent sweaters.”

“Those,” she agreed. “Sometimes working on something so small makes me grind my teeth. I almost dread the process of putting it together, but once I’m done, I’m happy that I did it. I feel even happier when I see the pictures some customers will send of their pet wearing it.”