Six of Hearts(58)

“Not in the same way. Dad used physical violence. Uncle Killian’s was all psychological. He liked to mess with my head.” He seems younger as he tells me this, like he’s reverting back to the boy who was mistreated by the adults who were supposed to care for him.

I rub his shoulder, because I don’t know what else to say, but I want to comfort him. We stay like that for a long time, quiet as we look out the windows into the dark night. He squeezes my hand and gets up, breaking our contemplative silence. When he leaves the room, I spend a long time wondering about the boy he once was as I pack away my materials.





Sixteen




When I get back to work after lunch on Friday, I find Dad’s office door closed and voices coming from inside. I put my ear against the wood and listen, picking out Jay’s recognisable cadence. God, I love his voice. I think I’m ruined for all other accents now that his is the one I hear every day.

Wondering what he’s here for, I turn my computer back on and start completing the tasks I need to finish before the end of the day. About a half an hour later, Dad’s office door opens and the two men emerge, shaking hands. Jay has an ecstatic look on his face, and Dad looks pretty happy, too.

“Here’s to a successful endeavour,” says Dad cheerily as he lets go of Jay’s hand and turns to go back inside his office.

“We’re going to win this thing, Hugh, you mark my words,” Jay calls after him.

Dad chuckles as he waves Jay off.

Does this mean Dad’s gone ahead and accepted the case? I try to act nonchalant as I type and Jay comes to perch himself on the edge of my desk.

“Guess what?” he beams.

“Dad’s taking your case?” I smile at him.

“Yeah! How’d you know?” he says, all playful and hyper. “I think you might be psychic, Watson. I should incorporate you into my act.”

“Oh, my God, you really are delighted about this,” I say, shaking my head at him but unable to stop smiling.

“Yep. The plan is back on track.”

“Plan?”

It takes him a second to answer. “To show Una Harris she messed with the wrong magician.”

“I thought you preferred illusionist,” I laugh.

“I do, but the two ‘M’s just made the sentence sound sexier.”

“If you say so.”

I continue working, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts tapping on the screen. Glancing at him, I notice that, despite his invigorated mood, his eyes are a little tired. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and hear him pacing around in his room. I haven’t mentioned it to him, though.

“What time do you get off work, John?”

“John?”

“John Watson, Matilda. Goodness, keep up.”

I shake my head at him. “I get off at half past five. Why?”

“I want you to come somewhere with me. I promise a fun time will be had by all.”

“And where is this fun taking place?”

Instead of answering, he thrusts his phone at me. It displays a tweet that contains a time, a date, and a place. The date and time are for today, and the place is a well-known meet-up area in the city centre.

“I didn’t know you had a Twitter account,” I say, swiping to his profile. My jaw practically drops when I see he’s got more than 100,000 followers. “Wow, Jay, you’re, like, hugely popular.”

“You sound surprised. Should I be offended?” he teases.

“No, of course not. It’s just unexpected, that’s all. What does the tweet mean?”

He takes the phone back from me and shoves it in his pocket. “I have a lot of teenage fans who aren’t old enough to get into the venues where I perform, so sometimes I do random outdoor meet-and-greets with them.”

My smile grows wide. “You do that? That’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, these kids mean a lot to me. I look at them, and I see myself at that age. I wanna give something back, you know?”

I stare at him, feeling myself growing fonder and fonder of this man by the second.

“So, will you come?” he prods. “Jessie will be there, too. She’s going to film it for YouTube.”

“Yes, I’ll come,” I say eagerly.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.” He bends over the table to ruffle my hair, and then he’s gone.

When I’m finished with work, I spruce myself up a little, letting my hair down out of the twist I’d had it in and changing from my heels into the reliable flats I always carry in my bag. If this thing is outdoors, I’m guessing there’s going to be a lot of standing involved.