Mister O(56)

“Maybe you’ll show me your bedroom someday soon,” I say, as I kiss her neck.

“Actually, you’ve seen it.”

I arch a questioning eyebrow.

“My apartment is a studio. I sleep on the purple couch. It’s a pull-out.”

“I have fond memories of what I did to you on that couch yesterday. Had no idea it was your bed too.”

She taps my nose. “Don’t know if you know this, Mr. Brains and Beauty, but Manhattan is a teeny bit expensive,” she says, holding up her thumb and forefinger. “Especially for an almost twenty-six-year-old magician.”

I nod, aware that her situation is different than mine. We’re both skilled enough to do what we love, but I’ve had bigger breaks.

“But I’m lucky to have that place,” she adds. “My parents bought it years ago as an investment, so I basically rent from them. They wanted to let me live rent-free, but I insisted on paying.”

“Hopefully they gave you a good deal.”

“They did. For a place in the 90s, it’s better than rent-controlled. And it lets me live in Manhattan, working kids’ parties for the most part.”

I prop myself up and run my fingers along her hipbone. “Is that the end game? I’m not saying you should do more. I’m just curious.”

“I’d like to do a few more corporate events since the pay is better, but for now, I’m happy.”

“Would you ever want to do a big, grand show, like in Vegas?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I really like working with kids. They’re fun and appreciative, and they believe in the illusion. They believe it’s all real.”

“You have no idea how badly I want to ask you to show me how to do the pencil trick.”

“You know I could never do that.” She stretches an arm to my nightstand, grabbing a pencil. She presses her finger to my lips. “I’m not going to tell you how it’s done,” she says, then brings her right hand to her nose, while her left hand is curved next to it. In a flash, she puts the pencil in her nose.

Or so it seems.

Equally quickly, the writing implement emerges in her other hand, as if she pulled it out her ear. Even though I know she didn’t put the pencil in her head, and even though I’m sure she hid it behind her hand, it’s still a cool trick. Because it looks real. Her sleight of hand is that smooth.

“Want me to do it again?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

This time she’s just as fast, but she swings her leg over my waist as she does the trick, which rolls her an inch closer, giving me the slightest peek at her curved left hand, where she hides the pencil.

I smile, awareness hitting me of what she just did. It’s a small thing, and a small trick, but it’s pure Harper. Revealing, without exactly revealing. Letting me into her world.

“Now teach me the secret to drawing a great cartoon,” she says, playfully demanding.

I raise my hand and brush her red strands over her ear. “Here’s the trick. You have to like what you’re drawing,” I say, my eyes on her the whole time.

She has no clue what I’ve just told her. She can’t have any idea that I’ve drawn her, and how much I like her. So much that it’s way beyond “like” right now. She just smiles and says, “Good thing you like drawing a caped crusader who can make a woman arch her back and curl her toes in pleasure. Especially since you’re so good at that, too.”

Screw Fido. Screw that stupid jealousy. Fuck any jealousy. Right now all I feel is one hundred percent satisfaction over a job well done.

Speaking of jobs . . .

“Would you want to come to a work party with me?” I ask, then I explain about the cocktail party that Serena asked me to attend this Friday.

“Do I have to throw a bowling match this time?” She taps my chest. “Speaking of that, you still owe me a rematch.”

“I promise you’ll get one. But will you come with me? Gino is such a capricious ass,” I say then hold up my palm. “Wait. Ass is good, we decided. He’s a capricious weasel, and he’s just jerking me around. But even so, I need to play the game and go. And I’d really like for you to be there.”

“Of course I’ll go. And as for Gino, f*ck him.”

I point at her, my eyes lighting up. “Hey. That’s another one. Why is f*ck an insult?”

“Hmmm. That’s an excellent point.”

“Right? Everyone says f*ck him, f*ck this, f*ck off. But f*cking is pretty much the greatest thing on earth.”

“We’ll start a new dictionary. We’ll take back the word f*ck, and we’ll turn it into—”

“I know! We’ll say it like a blessing.” I soften my voice, and make it sound reverent and adoring. “Fuck you, my child. Go in peace.”

“Or,” she says, her voice rising in excitement, “we can use it when we like something. Fuck can go into our dictionary as like.”

I curl my hand over her hip. “Hey, you know what, Harper? Fuck showers.”

I take her to the shower and introduce her to the tiled wall, as well as my bottomless appetite for her. She’s pretty ravenous, too, and it’s fantastic to have her again as the water slides down my back, and her legs wrap around me, and she falls apart once more in my arms.