Acts of Violet(104)
“I need to stay where I am.”
“That’s so inconvenience stores.”
Violet’s eyes glisten. “Come see me again,” she says. “Bring the kid next time.”
“I’ll try. I will.”
Even if this isn’t real, it’s nice to believe for a little while.
I close my eyes. It’s dark except for a tiny pinpoint of light. There’s an upward tugging on my body, like gravity working in reverse, and a static hum in my ears. The hum grows louder and louder. It becomes a roar that reverberates throughout me. When I open my eyes, I’m back on the plane, on the restroom floor, wedged between the toilet and the sink. The plane is flying smoothly. The FASTEN SEAT BELT sign is off.
My eyes and nose are seeping, and I do the best clean-up job I can with the low-grade single-ply tissues within arm’s reach. I get to my feet and open the restroom door on the first try. After all that, you’d think I’d be walking on jelly legs, but they remain sturdy and my steps down the narrow aisle don’t falter.
Gabriel is sleeping slumped against the window, and Quinn is also out, her head tilted back. They emit faint synchronized snores that make my heart hurt.
I wish I didn’t have to wake Quinn, but there’s no other way to return to my seat.
Gradually, after some gentle shoulder-nudges, she opens her eyes, squinting as she takes in her surroundings, then me. She gets up to let me through and when she takes a closer look at me, she’s instantly awake.
“Oh my god. You saw her, didn’t you?” Her eyes bore into me, spooked, wistful. “How?”
We speak in low voices so as not to disturb the sleeping passengers around us.
“You have to tell me. Everything,” she insists.
“I will,” I say. “But how did you know I saw her?”
Quinn rummages through her messenger bag and holds out a hand mirror. I use a knuckle to wipe beneath my eyes and brave a look at my reflection to see how well I wear emotional meltdown.
Pretty well, surprisingly. Pale but not too blotchy. Eyes a little bloodshot but electric blue. What was it Mrs. Toback compared them to? Cobalt glass. For some reason, I find this funny. Everything makes me want to laugh.
Quinn puts a hand over mine and guides the mirror to the right side of my face. Even in the low light, I catch the glimmer, and turn my head until I see the source: a sparkling red lipstick imprint stamped just above my jaw.
I gasp, laughing in pure delight.
Acknowledgments
Caroline Bleeke: You were attuned to the story I wanted to tell, as it was taking shape, and you nurtured it every step of the way. Thank you for your insights and encouragement, your warmth and wisdom, and those killer brainstorming sessions.
Philippa Sitters: I’m ever so grateful for your ongoing support—and not just career-wise (handling delicate writer egos is an essential yet underrated agent superpower). I also appreciate your valuable input on this book and your inside stories of the fame-adjacent.
Michelle Hazen: Your gorgeous persistence and positivity helped wrangle me out of a creative conundrum. Thank you for reading early pages with generosity and enthusiasm, and for your continued friendship.
I’m tremendously grateful to the dream team at Flatiron Books and Macmillan, including Sydney Jeon, Claire McLaughlin, Katherine Turro, Megan Lynch, Malati Chavali, Bob Miller, Marlena Bittner, Nancy Trypuc, Keith Hayes, Kelly Gatesman, Jaya Miceli, Jeremy Pink, Donna Noetzel, Eva Diaz, Shelly Perron, Rima Weinberg, Katy Robitzski, Drew Kilman, and Emily Dyer.
Thank you to all the talented folks at PFD, including Rebecca Wearmouth, Lucy Barry, Antonia Kasoulidou, and Lisette Verhagen in foreign rights, and Jonathan Sissons and Rosie Gurtovoy in dramatic rights. Thank you also to Amandine Riche at DGA.
Kayla Drescher: It means so much that you took the time to share your experiences as a professional magician and answer my bazillion questions. I’m also grateful to you and Carissa Hendrix for creating the Shezam podcast—its unvarnished and fascinating perspective on being a woman in magic was a vital resource in researching this book.
Bridget McGraw-Bordeaux: thank you for reading quickly, for offering the exact constructive feedback I needed, and for your endless curiosity and enduring sisterhood.
Natalie, Stephanie, Asha, and Jeanine: thank you for your kindness, openness, empathy, advice, and for making our CPSG a safe space.
Librarians, booksellers, book clubs, fellow authors, any and all members of the reading community: I cannot thank you enough. Your passion and tireless endorsements of books and authors are invaluable, and your ongoing support for Oona Out of Order has been life-changing. Special shoutouts to Pamela Klinger-Horn, Mary Webber O’Malley, Luisa Smith, Darla Dykstra, Zibby Owens, Robin Kall, Adriana Trigiani, and Jordan Moblo, though my gratitude extends to countless others. I’m also thankful to the staff members at POWERHOUSE Arena, Porter Square Books, and Peoples’ Books & Culture, who hosted me in person during my launch week, just before the lockdown.
There were several books that were instrumental for research and inspiration: Fooling Houdini by Alex Stone, Hiding the Elephant by Jim Steinmeyer, Magic Is Dead by Ian Frisch, Playing Dead by Elizabeth Greenwood, and Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert (while not about stage magic, it massively helped reignite my writing spark).
I also want to take a moment to recognize some of the numerous women who have had an impact on the world of magic, including but not limited to: Adelaide Herrmann, Fay Presto, Dorothy Dietrich, Misty Lee, Minerva, Jade, Ariann Black, Celeste Evans, Lisa Menna, Kristen Johnson, Magic Babe Ning, Judy Carter, and Melinda.