Just a Little Magic

JUST A LITTLE MAGIC Chapter 11

1. BREANNA Atlanta, Georgia January 9, 2001 January 14, 2028

2. ELODIE Brugges, Belgium February 8 February 13

3. VICKY Singapore March 9 March 13

4. SOPHIE Montreal, Quebec April 7 April 12

5. IRENE Limassol, Cyprus May 7 May 11

6. SANDRA Taipei (Taiwan) June 5 June 10

7. ASHLEY Chicago, Illinois July 5 July 9

8. MIRELLA Sao Paulo, Brazil August 4 August 8

9. KAVIA Vadodara, Gujarat September 2 September 6

10. ESTHER Johannesburg, S.A. October 2 October 6

11. TAMARA Tampa, Florida November 1 November 5

12. RI Osaka, Japan November 30 December 1

13. JANINE Toronto, Ontario December 30 December 31

*****

#10 Esther Johannesburg, South Africa

Lillian got Esther and her friend to attend our magic show. I'd resumed my 'fake usher' persona, and got close enough to see her - and read her mind.

Esther wasn't unattractive, but I realized immediately that we couldn't invite her up on stage. Nor could we call on her friend. It wasn't just that they were too shy; they were too intimidated.

Esther and her girlfriend were black, while a significant portion of the audience were white. I didn't know much about South Africa, except for the broad strokes of their history. None of that mattered, really - all I knew was that Esther didn't want to be put in the spotlight.

It wasn't entirely a question of race; Esther was a poor girl from a poor working-class neighbourhood. She didn't feel well-dressed enough to be mixing with these 'rich folk'.

- "Serendipity it is." said Lillian.

Esther was a waitress in a greasy spoon restaurant. She was absolutely astonished when Janine and I walked in just after the lunchtime rush.

- "Peter Grey? And Miss Janine?"

- "You were at the show last night." I said.

- "I - how did you know?"

- "Well, you know our names, for one. And I

can

read minds, you know. But the real answer is that I saw you, before the show even started."

- "You saw

me

?"

- "I have a good memory for pretty faces."

Black girls can blush. Esther did, anyway.

- "Don't tease the poor girl." said Janine.

- "I'm not. She's

very

pretty. Don't you think so?"

Janine looked at Esther. "Fine. Yes, she's pretty. Can we talk about the next show now?"

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, I'd walked into hers. Esther was amazed - and astonished to learn that I found her attractive.

She was shy, and intimidated all over again. But I managed to make her smile - wow. Esther had a natural, beautiful smile. Maybe I was reacting to all the time I'd had to spend with Kavia, but I was quite attracted to Esther's simple honesty. She was genuine.

I got her to smile again. Then I asked her if she'd be willing to let me take her to dinner.

Her smile vanished.

- "Oh, for Goodness' sake." said Janine. "Please say yes, Esther - otherwise, he'll just keep trying to find reasons why you should have dinner with him."

- "Please, Esther." I said.

Keep in mind that Lillian had used magic on her. Esther wanted to say no. I was a stranger from abroad, probably too rich for her, and belonged to a world that was just too far removed from what she knew. On top of that ... she'd never dated a white guy. It was obviously even more of a factor than it had been for Breanna in Atlanta.

Most of all, though, Esther was a 'good' girl, and good girls don't accept invitations from strange men. What would her mother say?

On the other hand, she was primed to like me, she had enjoyed our show last night, and she was sensitive to the amazing coincidence of me being in her restaurant. And there was the tipping point: who doesn't like being told that they're pretty?

- "Umm ..."

I just smiled at her.

"I would have to ... make some arrangements."

- "I understand."

Esther didn't know that I well aware of her home situation. She lived with her young daughter and her partially disabled mother. She herself was the sole breadwinner. Esther hadn't been on a date in almost three years. It was that loneliness that finally helped her to make up her mind.

- "Alright." she said. "I mean ... you seem like a nice man."

I offered to come by her home in a cab, to collect her.

"You don't have to do that." she said. "It's probably better if I ... meet you." Esther wasn't embarrassed by where she lived, but she thought that I might be.

I gave her a choice of locations: a place of her choosing, an upscale restaurant, or the hotel we were staying at. I was only mildly surprised when she chose option 3. Esther didn't want to take me somewhere I would feel uncomfortable. Nor did she want to go to a place where she would feel out of place.

The hotel seemed like a neutral zone, where we might pass unnoticed.

Esther immediately dealt with the elephant in the room.

- "I don't entirely understand, Mr. Grey, why you would want to have dinner with me. I'm not ... that is - I don't think that I'm quite what you're looking for." She thought that I was looking for a groupie to fuck. Semi-anonymous sex.

- "Esther, I've spent the past few weeks with people who are snobs. Opinionated people, materialistic people ... you're like a breath of fresh air, compared to them. I love your smile, and I enjoy your company."

- "But I'm not -"

She'd been about to say 'that type of girl.'

- "I know. I'm not expecting anything except pleasant company for dinner. Now please don't misunderstand what I'm about to do -" I slid some money across the table. She looked more perplexed than offended.

"This is cab fare." I explained. "If at any moment I say or do something that makes you feel uncomfortable, you can immediately take a taxi home."

- "That's ... not necessary."

- "You're my guest. I want to make sure that you get home safely - at a time of your choosing. Alright?"

- "I still don't understand." she said. "There must be plenty of people you could talk to."

- "Not like you." I said. "I felt a connection between us, Esther. I suspect that you felt it, too - or we wouldn't be having this conversation at all."

Esther was only 25 years old, but she'd led a hard life, and looked older than her age. She'd also suffered her share of disappointments, and was leery of another.

- "I don't know." she said. "That's not enough ..."

- "To build a relationship on? I don't know, either. But I

do

know that it's too much to ignore. It seems to me that it would be a serious mistake to let you walk away without at least

trying

to get to know you."

Esther was feeling the magic, too. I was still far beyond anything she might have expected to come into her life, but she was teetering on the edge.

- "I suppose ..." she said. "It won't kill me to have dinner with you."

- "That's the spirit. I'll have you know - so far, no one has ever expired while talking to me. A few were taken sick, and one had to go to the hospital, but ..."

Esther smiled again, and relaxed a little bit.

We had just about nothing in common.

Hard-working single mother, meet video-game playing, pampered nerd. Young lady who'd had precious little romance in her life, let me introduce you to Casanova Houdini, jet-setting international playboy magician.

But I asked about her family. Little by little, I got Esther to tell me about her 5 year old daughter, Sunny (who sounded like a real handful). She also told me about her mother, and her father, who'd been killed in an industrial accident.

Esther wanted to hear the story of how I'd become a magician, and about all of the places I'd been.

It wasn't a seduction - not even remotely. I wasn't just a white man from the other side of the world - we lived on completely opposite sides of the street.

All I was trying to accomplish tonight was to establish that there

was

a connection between us, however unbelievable it might seem.

And that I accomplished.

After dinner, she accepted dessert and a coffee. I asked her about Jo'Burg, and about the restaurant she worked in - anything I could think of.

After our second coffees, Esther began to wonder if I was going to invite her to my room. She would've politely declined, but she was still curious to know if I was interested in her in that way.

I didn't. Instead, I walked her to the front of the hotel, and called a taxi for her.

- "Was I right, Esther?" I asked. "Did you feel it, too?"

She flushed. "Thank you for the dinner - and the evening, Peter. I ... I enjoyed it."

- "Does that mean that you might have dinner with me again? We're doing a show in Durban, and another in Pretoria ... but I'll be back here next Wednesday."

Esther was still confused. Our whole 'connection' still struck her as somewhat bizarre. She'd had a nice night out, though, and I'd made her feel special.

- "That would be lovely."

Our second date was much like our first - me asking her questions. She was absolutely floored that I'd picked up little gifts for her daughter and her mother (a collection of illustrated Doctor Doolittle books for Sunny, and heating pads for Gramma's arthritis).

We had another nice evening together, but Esther wasn't about to come up to my room after dinner. She wanted to ... but she simply couldn't face the prospect of returning home in the early hours of the morning, to face her mother and her daughter.

Once again, I called a taxi for her.

Esther surprised me by standing very close to me.

- "You're a lovely man, Peter Grey. I would ... very much like to spend more time with you. Tonight, as a matter of fact. I ... I haven't felt this way for so long. But ... I can't."

- "I understand."

- "Do you? I truly hope that I don't regret this decision. I think that I'm already regretting it."

- "No regrets, Esther. I'll be back. I don't know when, exactly. Soon, though. I'm coming back. Just to see you."

Esther was crying. Then she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to mine. I was surprised by the intensity of her kiss.

***

I was seriously messed up.

Is it okay to lie to someone in order to save their life? Is it okay to lie to the person you love, if you're doing it to save other people's lives?

I didn't know anything about ethics - I studied Business in college (yeah, we had to take a business ethics course ... but c'mon, really?).

Did I have to fuck Kavia quite so many times, when I didn't even like her? How was I going to maintain a relationship with Esther, after she'd borne my child? Johannesburg isn't exactly around the corner from Toronto.

How was Sophie going to deal with

our

child having 12 brothers and sisters, all born in the same year? I got another serious headache, trying to think this through.

Sophie. I thought about her constantly, and sent her a weekly email that contained about 10% of what I was doing - and thinking.

Then I composed another email, for Ri, and one for Tamara. Then I wrote a letter by hand, to mail to Esther, because she didn't have access to a computer.

I felt like a lying sack of shit until we landed in Rio de Janeiro.

Then I felt like an exhausted lying sack of shit.

***

#8 Mirella Sao Paulo, Brazil

Mirella (pronounced Mee-Rey-yah) was a celebrity in her own right. She was a model, an actress (a small part in a Brazilian soap opera), and a fixture in the celebrity gossip news. She'd been linked to an American movie star, an Italian race car driver, and a Mexican soap opera star (only the last of these was true).

She attended our first show in Sao Paulo, and Janine chose her as our final volunteer. Mirella was more than we'd expected: the woman was

flamboyant

. She had style, and grace. Her lustrous black hair fell halfway down her back, and she swung her hips as if every oscillation was scoring a goal for Brazil in the World Cup.

I was taken aback by her face; Mirella was blessed with a sultry, eye-catching, exotic beauty, with creamy light caramel skin. She was small breasted, but her ass could've been declared a national monument.

- "Welcome." said Janine, confronted by a woman who was just as hot as she was.

- "Welcome to Brazil." said Mirella, completely comfortable on stage. The audience's reaction suggested that she knew exactly how to play to the crowd.

We ended up in the sound-proof booth (which the promoters had agreed to build for us). I glanced at her more than once.

- "You're really very lovely." I said.

She turned her head towards me. "You thought I would be ugly?"

- "Hardly. But it's safe to say that you've far surpassed my expectations."

- "Ah? You know who I am, then? And I know who you are - isn't this where you like to kiss the girls?"

She'd obviously watched at least one of our appearances on Penn and Teller.

- "You know who I am, Mirella? That's ... interesting."

- "My manager suggested that I ... look into you. I am surprised, though. I don't understand ... you aren't the most handsome man. Not very impressive - and yet ..."

- "Thank you." I said.

She laughed. "I am sorry. I insult you, and you thank me. There is something about you. I can't tell what it is ..." I loved Mirella's accent; when she said 'it', she pronounced it 'eet'.

At that inopportune moment, Janine called us out of the booth.

The rest of the routine went flawlessly. Mirella shot me another smoldering glance. I wasn't quite sure what it meant. That was alright, though, because Lillian had arranged another serendipitous encounter.

The following day, Janine and I strolled into a fashionable restaurant. Seated at a prominent table (where everyone could see them) were Mirella and her agent, Mauricio.

Mauricio was tanned, well-dressed, and wore far too much jewelry. But he caught sight of Janine immediately, and spoke to Mirella, who turned her head.

Janine was speaking to the Maitre 'D in Portuguese, plainly unhappy with the location of our table for two; that unfortunate fellow was trying to explain that given the late date of our reservation, there was nothing he could do.

Mauricio came to our rescue (or Janine's, at least), insisting that we share

their

table. Janine graciously accepted. The agent took her by the arm and led the way.

- "Hello again." said Mirella.

- "Thank you for sharing your table."

- "It is a pleasure." she said. "Especially since I won't have to listen to Mauricio talk my ear off. But I am glad to see you again."

Her agent pretended not to have heard that. He was busy offering to order for Janine, while haranguing the waiter for a bottle of wine.

- "I'm glad, too." I said. "In fact, I've been thinking of you since last night."

She raised an eyebrow. "Flattery?"

- "Truth." I said. "I think you can tell the difference."

Janine wasn't thrilled with our lunch. For one thing, she wasn't used to sharing a table with a woman who was just as good-looking as she was - if not better. For another, she had to listen to a non-stop stream of talk from Mauricio, who was trying hard to impress her with a who's who of people he knew.

Mirella, by default, had me to talk to, and focus on. She was still curious about what made me tick, but she

was

intrigued. She also had her own repertoire of little tricks to keep me on my toes; where Janine favoured the quarter-smile, Mirella had perfected the raised eyebrow and the slight tilt of the head.

The shortest distance between two points ...

- "Would you have dinner with me tonight, Mirella?" I asked.

There it was: the slight tilt of the head, that could reduce grown men to tears.

- "You are very sure of yourself."

- "I apologize if I've offended you. But put yourself in my place: if you were me, how would

you

go about approaching you?"

She actually thought about it for a moment. Then she laughed, loud enough to distract Mauricio from his monologue.

- "I like you, Mister Grey. Yes - I will have dinner with you. May I choose the place?"

- "That's a wonderful idea."

Mauricio was suddenly inspired to suggest that Janine should have dinner with

him

, to discuss 'opportunities' that could be beneficial for both of them.

Mirella leaned closer, and whispered in my ear.

- "

He will try to get into her panties. That doesn't bother you?

"

I whispered back. "

Janine is in charge of her own panties. She can decide for herself."

- "Ah? I thought that you two ...?"

- "That video you saw was two years ago. We're really just ... friends."

- "And now you would like to be ... friends - with me?"

- "Oh, no."

I said. "

I'm hoping that we'll be much more than that."

The eyebrow

and

the head tilt, simultaneously: I was honoured. Mirella leaned back to take a good long look at me.

She didn't cancel our dinner date, though.

Janine told Mauricio that she had to look after her mother. She managed to convey the impression that Lillian was in her late 70s, and suffered from incontinence.

***

- "You owe me for that one." said Janine, one our way back to the hotel.

- "You don't have to spend the night with him. And you still owe me for Kavia." I said.

***

We met in a very down-to-earth, off-the-beaten path neighbourhood eatery. Everybody there seemed to know who she was - and not a soul bothered her.

- "I grew up around the corner from here." she explained.

Mirella was a revelation. She was beautiful, and flamboyant. Her website (90% glamour photos, 10% in lingerie) was one of the most popular in Brazil. There were a dozen more websites devoted to gossip about her career, and speculation about her love life.

But she was a very intelligent woman. She spoke four languages (Portuguese, Spanish, English and French). Her lower middle-class parents had paid for dancing lessons. Mirella also had better business sense than her agent. She knew that posing nude would be a mistake; it was also something that, once done, couldn't be undone.

Rumours and speculation about her romantic affairs were one thing; actual proof was another. She didn't want to come across as a tramp. No 'secret sex tape' for her.

- "That is why you and I will be discreet - at first." she said. "I will decide if and when we reveal our ... connection. Is that acceptable?"

- "You're suggesting that there will be a 'you and I'."

- "I have been trying to answer your question all afternoon. If I were you, how would I go about approaching me?" She smiled. "It was very clever, to make me think of you all day."

- "That's only fair." I said. "I

have

been thinking of you all day. But now I'm very curious - were you able to answer it?"

- "Oh, I tried to come up with better 'approaches', as you call them. But in the end, I think that direct and straightforward has a certain charm."

The meal was fine; I was distracted by the company, and the topic of our conversation. Mirella sent me back to my hotel, promising to join me later.

- "You'll have half an hour." she said.

- "Half an hour of anticipation."

- "For both of us."

I showered, and ordered a bottle of wine. The wine arrived first. But it was only a few minutes later that there was a knock on my door.

When I opened the door, I didn't recognize the young woman who stood there.

- "Are you alone?" she said, in heavily-accented English.

- "Who are you?"

- "She's here. I am just making sure that that you are alone. Are you?"

I opened the door completely. The young woman brushed by me, and completed a quick circuit of my hotel room. She opened the closet. She even went into the bathroom, and pulled the shower curtain back. Then she simply walked out.

Less than a minute later, Mirella herself appeared in my open doorway. She entered the room, and closed the door behind her.

- "I'm sorry." she said. "I know that it can spoil the mood, but ..."