For reasons I will leave undisclosed (though I’m sure some of my closer followers will be able to guess), I decided to dig up, fix up, and share some more of last summer’s writing. Here’s one called “Sleight of Hand,” featuring characters Phinehas and Oriol, who belong to a friend of mine (used and published here with permission), and, my boi, Cyprus Lane. Enjoy ~
The night was so bright one may have thought it was day, for the streets were illuminated by the bright colored lights of the Las Vegas strip.
“That circus performance was mediocre at best,” Oriol complained. “I mean, holographic animals?! What fun is that? I came to see an ELEPHANT, Phinehas. A REAL, ACTUAL ELEPHANT. Is that too much to ask?”
Phinehas rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just glad it’s over. That was a damn long show.”
As they made the long walk back to their hotel (because who could be bothered with public transportation in Vegas), they passed street performers of many kinds; from metallic men to wanna-be rockstars. None of them were particularly interesting, though that didn’t stop Oriol from dropping a few dollars into the bins of the ones he deemed “cool.”
“Ladies and gentlemen; people of the night,” came a voice from further up the street. “Prepare to have your minds blown…!”
“Ooooh, what’s this?” Oriol asked as the two approached the small booth nestled at the entry of a dimly lit, totally-not-shady alleyway.
“Only the best close-up, sleight of hand magic in the world, pal,” said the cheeky dealer. He looked to be about 20, with a pale complexion and a brilliant, all too convincing smile. There was something about him, something mysterious and alluring...something mischievous, potentially dangerous, as if shaped from a slice of Sin City itself.
“Really now?” Phin chuckled, his arms folded over his chest. “Sounds like a sham.”
“No shams, here, sir,” he said as he shuffled the cards in his hands, “just honest-to-goodness m a g i c.” The cards disappeared in a poof of purple and gold glitter. “The name’s Cyprus Lane, and I guarantee a performance that will leave you slack-jawed and begging for more. Whaddya say?”
Oriol’s eyes lit up with excitement as he laid a dollar on the table and threw caution to the wind. “Card trick--- show me a card trick!”
“You got it.” Cyprus spread the freshly shuffled cards face down across the table, “Pick any card you want; just don’t let me see it, we clear?”
“Memorize it, show your boyfriend if you have to.”
Phinehas coughed a laugh.
“Done? Return it to the deck. As you can see, my eyes are closed and my hands away from the table. I can see and feel nothing.”
Oriol carefully replaced the card to the deck. “Now what?”
“Now, I do my thing---” His eyes remained closed as he reshuffled the deck, his fingers working quickly over the cards. All but one seemed to disappear into thin air (or, well, a plume of smoke) as he revealed with a flourish, “Is this your card?”
“The King of Spades,” Phin chuckled. “Damn.”
Cyprus leaned back in his chair, a cocky smirk on his face. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Though for another couple bucks, I can show you a few more tri---”
“SOLD.” Thus, it was not a casino to which Oriol lost his money, but one of Vegas’ own literal bloodsuckers, Cyprus Lane.
