“Then find your own ride home, you fucking loser.” I hurried away from him.
“What?” I heard from behind me. “What did you say to me?”
“Asshole.”
I was halfway down the block when I heard a whiny, “Natalie?”
But I had no time for that.
Ellen was nowhere in sight. No cars had gone by. I rushed to the end of the block and turned onto the street running perpendicular. She was rounding the corner. I ran after her down the empty street, slower than I wanted, my left leg burning from the dog bite. When I caught up, I called out to her and she turned around.
“Natalie? I’m in kind of a hurry. I lost track of time and—”
“Please,” I said her. “I have to talk to you.”
“It’s really late. I have a long drive home and I teach in the morning.”
“Trust me. We have to talk.”
She said, “You can give me your number if you want, and I’ll call you.”
I shook my head. “I know.”
“Sorry?”
“I know.”
“You know what?” She raised her hands in the air. Feigned ignorance and impatience.
“I’d never tell anyone,” I said. “But it was the greatest thing I ever saw.”
Somewhere not far away came the sound of a window being smashed.
“This isn’t a good neighborhood,” she said, pulling her purple scarf tighter around her. “I don’t like being out here at night.”
“Please, Ellen—”
“I had a nice time playing with you tonight, but I don’t know what you’re talking about, and to be honest you’re scaring me a little.”
When she started to walk away from me, I blurted out, “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Her walking slowed down. “Please. Will you please let me buy you a cup of coffee?” She stopped and faced me. “Ace is a cheater,” I said, “and I know you know it, and I know why you didn’t say anything.”
She watched me a moment before speaking again. “Your friend?”
“No. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything. But you. My god, Ellen. You can’t just walk away.”
She watched me a moment, then took her phone out of her purse, checked it, and put it away again. “I can meet you at the Last Call Tavern on North Covington Road,” she said. “I don’t want you following me. Wait fifteen minutes and meet me there.”
She turned away and started walking again. Her footfalls were the only sound on the night street.
I walked the other way, back toward the bakery, wondering how the hell I was going to ditch Ace but determined to ditch Ace. I didn’t want him in my car. I didn’t ever want to see him again, but we were over a hundred miles from home and I wasn’t cold enough to leave him stranded. I decided to take him to the bar of his choice, let him drink it off for an hour until I picked him up again. I’d even give him booze money. Or I’d take him to a casino. Or wherever he wanted. I didn’t care.
When I got back to my car, the passenger window was smashed. Ace’s backpack, gone. Then I noticed the side of my car had been keyed.
I guessed he must have decided that vandalizing my car was worth the price of a bus ticket home.
I used the flashlight on my phone to verify what the keyed writing said.
BITCH
But Ace had it wrong. I wasn’t a bitch. I was an accomplished magician and hopeful journalist who’d come to Atlantic City and found her story. The dues I’d had to pay included too much cash and a vandalized car, but there was no denying that, finally, I had found her, I had found her, God damn, I had found her.
The car started. I pressed the home button on my phone and said, “Driving directions to Last Call Tavern in Atlantic City.”
When the phone couldn’t find it, I repeated the request. Then I asked for directions to North Covington Road.
Which, I learned, didn’t exist.
PART TWO
A
I went to bed to the distant rumble and crash of garbage trucks moving through the predawn streets and woke up several hours later hungry and fog-brained. I trudged out to the kitchen and started a half pot of coffee with the last of a container of Folgers. While the coffee dripped I went into the living room, where Ethel was pecking at a small disco ball hanging from the cage top and Julius was sitting comfortably in his food dish. I had left my phone on the coffee table. I picked it up to check email. There was a new message from Brad Corzo.
Subject: Invitation
Dear Natalie,
The talent committee is pleased to invite you to participate in the upcoming convention. Because final convention details are still being arranged, all presenters will be receiving a separate email once the date (either 12/18 or 12/19), time, and venue for their performances are set.
Please remember to register online for the conference (as a presenter, your registration fee is waived), and upload a current bio and photo, which will appear on the conference website.
Yours in magic,
Brad Corzo
Chair, Panel Selection Committee, World of Magic
P.S. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that the Boy Scouts of America is one of the nation’s largest and most important values-based youth organizations. I myself was once a Scout. Performing for them is always an honor and a privilege.
I let out an excited shriek, causing Ethel to jump down from her wooden bar.
This was huge, especially in light of my correspondence the other day, which had been downright petulant. I reread the email to make sure I wasn’t misunderstanding, but it couldn’t be clearer. The committee had actually changed its mind. I would perform at the convention.
This was big enough news that I had no problem letting Brad Corzo’s petty scolding slide.
Dear Brad,
I’m grateful for your invitation, and I gladly accept. I’ll go ahead and register, and will await your further correspondence. Very much looking forward to the convention.
Thank you again,
Natalie
Today was December 5. That gave
