Invisible Threads--Chapter 29

Writer's Note: Please read the previous chapters and prologue of Invisible Threads before reading this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jim Harriman was in the green room waiting to celebrate the moving on of Gary and the other contestants. Richardson had made a mistake. His normal pace was slow and he had gone even slower. It felt amateurish and provided hope.

Then that girl's death would not be in vain. As he fought to reconcile his deed, she became in his mind not a victim, or an innocent bystander, or even collateral damage. She was a martyr. A martyr to the cause of his success. Some things were just meant to be and now it was up to him to make sure that the cause for which she had died would be fulfilled.

He knew, of course, that were she to have a vote, then her vote would be to still be alive. But martyrs don't always have votes. Sometimes they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Martyrs could just as easily be created by location as by conviction.

He felt more connected to this girl than to any other woman in his life. She was a part of his life as no one else could be. He knew her name. It was Lacy. And that was how he needed to start thinking of her. A picture of Lacy was necessary. He would find something on the Internet that he could print out and keep to remember her by.

***

"Uh... no." Mercurio pushed back against Al's request.

Al sighed, "Mercurio, I'm not doing this against the contestant's wishes. He has said repeatedly that he wants more scrutiny and documentation."

"Then we tell him in advance so that he can be ready for it."

"We could. But it would be much more dramatic if we just spring it on him."

That is what sold him. He was a performer and it was all about the drama.

After that, Al had more endless meetings and problem solving. She had long since learned that she would never feel completely prepared for the final day of a show but there was nothing on her list left undone. For better or worse, she called it a night.

On her way out, she walked every inch of the stage, backstage, green room, audience, and the booth. There was the steady buzz of the small cadre of diehard techs running around doing final checks. The police presence was beginning to lessen. She only spotted four police officers in the building at 1:00am.

***

Cherie had not left Gary's side the entire evening. She had forced him to run lines. She had been sarcastic. She had been talkative. She had been brimming with dark humor. She had acted in every way the normal Cherie without ever really being the normal Cherie. Gary knew what she was doing and wondered at himself that he was able to sift through the subtle nuances to understand that there was something off. This was something new but he followed her lead and also tried to pretend to be his normal self. He was sure that he failed as badly at it as she did.

She was turning pages in her notebook. "It's not enough."

"Why? I'm doing something right in front of their eyes. No curtains. No boxes. No controlled vantage points. What more could they ask?"

"You did that today and they called it boring. We have to come up with something more."

He was tired and whiny. "Like what? We already have all of the props set."

"You have to teleport yourself."

"No." Gary's voice dropped rather than raised, which Cherie knew meant that he was steeling himself for a confrontation.

She calmed and lowered her voice: "I know. The last time you hit the shelf and books fell on you and it hurt."

"That's not it. It was out of control. I didn't know where I was going. I could have ended up in a wall just as easily as in the hallway. I can't see where the threads lead. They just go. I could die... kill someone else... or kill a lot of people." Ghosts of Lecki's lectures echoed through his mind.

"Okay fine. We'll just hope teleporting the things is enough."

Through the night, he regularly took glimpses into the extraverse to stay on the lookout for the anomaly. If it appeared, he would tell her immediately and maybe regain some trust, or acceptance, or forgiveness, or all of the above. The anomaly never appeared.

The morning included the breakfast bar before arriving in the green room at 8:00am before an 8:30 call.

Wanting the green room reactions to be more full, each contestant was allowed to have one other person stay with them, which allowed Cherie to remain with Gary. They staked out a table where they could watch the monitors and provide appropriate reactions when the camera turned their way.

Harriman got up from his table which he was sharing with a young boy, walked over, and stood next to them. Cherie glared at him.

Harriman ignored Cherie and looked at Gary. "The cameras are always on. It'll play better if we look like we're talking."

Gary looked at Cherie who nodded, got up, and left the table.

Harriman put on a smile and continued, "You should be flattered, you know."

Gary thought about this. "You only try to steal the best?"

The other's laugh was now genuine. "Okay. That was good. You should do more of that."

Cherie returned with two bottles of water. "Who's the boy?"

Harriman glanced over his shoulder. "That's Calvin. He's in my act."

She placed the bottles on the table. "You added a child to your act? That's a risk."

"That's right but I'm not going to beat Gary without taking some chances, am I?"

Gary reached out and put his hand around the water bottle without lifting it. "I can't do what you do."

"The schmaltz? No. You can't. But right now, I can't do what you do."

The conversation stopped for a moment and they watched the stand-up comic on the monitor.

Harriman shook his head. "He's toast. There's nothing fresh there. He's bombing."

The cameras came by and spent a few seconds on them as they watched the screen. Gary checked the extraverse. No anomaly.

"What you do. It really isn't illusion, is it?"

Gary pointed at the little stack of artificial sweetener packets on the table. "Pick up one of those and hold it in your fist."

Cherie's head jerked over to Gary. "What are you doing?"

Harriman complied, focusing more on Gary's face than on his fist.

Gary ignored Cherie and continued: "Now close your other fist."

It took Gary two seconds to look into the extraverse, see the correct thread and move the packet from one fist to the other. Harriman felt the packet leave his right fist and appear in his left but waited for Gary to tell him.

"Open your fists."

Harriman did.

Gary looked up: "Now, you tell me. Was that an illusion?"

The drama of the statement was reduced by the fact that Gary only held eye contact through four words.

Harriman stared at the packet, looked around to confirm that no camera was pointing their way, and spoke in a whisper, "If I win this thing, I will give you all of my winnings if you teach that to me."

Cherie's laugh was harsh, "Are you serious?"

Gary continued, "You come to Champaign after this is over and I will show you everything. If you can recreate what I do, I would only ask that you be willing to show the world."

Cherie turned back to Gary. "Are you shitting me?"

Harriman spoke quickly. "It's a deal."

Harriman was distracted as Calvin was getting bored and running around the room. He got up to chase and capture the child, leaving Gary and Cherie alone.

"What the hell, Gary?!"

Gary didn't look up. "After today, you're going to be gone. So, I have to start making my own decisions."

She had nothing to say to that.

Two hours later, Harriman walked onto the stage exuding a confidence he did not feel. Having a child on stage with him remained a huge gamble. Dressing in flamboyant but non-ethnic clothing had been a long internal debate. The trick cried out for ethnic Arabic or Persian clothing, but he didn't want to lose under calls of cultural appropriation. So, he dressed the boy in worn, ragged clothing and he wore a black faux silk shirt with few buttons buttoned and black pants.

There was nothing on stage except for a stool with a coil of rope. He stepped onto his mark and turned to face the audience.

After a brief preamble, Jim brought the smile up full and looked at Bob Standifer. "Today, I am going to need something from your wallet."

Danny jumped in: "Not cash I hope. Yesterday was alimony day for three of his ex-wives."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a driver's license."

Bob seemed hesitant. "I'm not a big fan of giving up my driver's license. That's a long wait at DMV for a new one."

"Don't worry. I will guard it as if it were my own. Woe be unto him who tries to take your license. I will rain down the revenge of the gods on him."

"Okay. Just be careful with it."

Harriman took the card, pulled his own wallet out of the back pocket of his pants, put in the card, and stuck the wallet back in his pocket.

Just then, there was a loud female scream and a yell of "Stop, thief!" from the back of the auditorium.

Calvin ran down the aisle from the rear and Harriman tried to cut him off to the right of the judge's table; this resulted in a chase around the judge's table, which ended up with both the boy and Harriman on stage. Harriman apprehended the boy and picked up the rope and brought him to the front of the stage where he tied the boy's hands firmly in a camera close-up. He then stepped away from the boy and signaled toward the back of the auditorium as if to an officer of the law. The ropes dropped away from Calvin's wrists.

Another chase scene around the stage ensued and he caught the boy again. This time, he carried the boy and the rope down to the judges' table and allowed Danny to tie the boy's hands firmly in place. Harriman carried him back up to the stage, put him down, signaled, and again the ropes fell away. This time, the boy grabbed Harriman's wallet from his pants and began anew running around the stage. And again, the chase led down around the judge's table where the boy got a lead sufficient for him to grab the coil of rope, go to the center of the stage, and throw the rope into the air.

The rope, which the audience had seen both Harriman and Danny manipulate, suddenly became taught - hanging from nothing. The boy climbed up the rope, got to the top, and disappeared. The audience applauded.

The applause turned into a gasp when Harriman reached the stage and yelled, "Don't worry, Bob, I'll get your license back."

The final word was snuffed out as Harriman followed the boy up the rope - also disappearing at the top. The audience heard the boy yell defiantly but could see nothing but air.

When Harriman came down the rope, the audience was silent. Walking to the front of the stage, he pulled out his wallet, and then pulled out the driver's license and showed it to the audience and camera. He then placed the wallet down on the stool behind him, turned back toward the audience, and raised his hands in triumph. The audience remained silent, waiting for what was to come next.

"Neener, neener, neener!"

Everyone turned to see the boy running again from the rear of the audience toward the judge's desk. He came down, laid the wallet on the desk in front of Bob Standifer, did a razzberry at Harriman followed by kissing his own hand and patting his butt and then back out the rear of the audience.

Harriman turned and looked at the stool and then walked carefully around it to show that it was now empty. The wallet was gone from the stool. Bob Standifer opened the wallet that had been laid on the desk in front of him and pulled out his driver's license. Holding it up for all to see.

The audience erupted and all four judges stood. The applause rose again and lasted for thirty seconds.

In the booth, Al fist-pumped, "Yes!" And those around her in the booth applauded. Now if Richardson could close the show on a note as high as that, they would have a ratings bonanza.

Cherie and Gary finished watching Jim Harriman's performance. They could hear the audience's rousing standing ovation both first as a low rumble through the walls and then on screen. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room. She knew that a camera was pointed at them but turned and leaned over the table toward Gary. He needed to understand.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear hoping to say it before the camera got in close enough for its mike to pick up her words. "You're going to lose."

Gary returned the whisper, "But that's just an illusion. A trick."

He wasn't getting it. To hell with what the camera heard. "It was exciting, it was fast-paced, and it looks better on stage than what you're about to do."

Gary didn't know what to say. "Maybe I've done enough. Maybe I've caught someone's eye that will come and ask questions and want to finance my research."

Cherie doubled down. The camera was close now and heard every word. "You are going to lose to an illusionist. The public perception will be that you were the second-best illusionist on the show. Everything you have worked for is over. Unless you transport yourself."

The camera person wasn't fooling himself into thinking the conversation was genuine, but it was great footage. Best of the show so far.

Gary's response was disappointing: "No."

The camera person wanted a speech there. A soliloquy of risk and fear. Cherie also seemed to expect more. There was a pause.

Her answer was equally disappointing: "Then we lose and it's over."

Gary got up and walked away. He headed into the restroom where the camera was not allowed to follow. Cherie stayed in her chair, unmoving. She remained aware of the camera and wondered at the value of the words that had just been recorded. But it really didn't matter.

Harriman came into the Green Room for his victory lap with a camera and various staffers in tow. He knew they all wanted the interaction between him and Richardson. The angry small woman was in a chair in front of a monitor. Her body language was dejected but as the rest of the room began to applaud, she stood and joined in. Richardson was nowhere to be seen.

Harriman went to the nearest group of people and was filmed shaking hands, being hugged, and having his back patted. His attention never strayed from the short woman and he knew exactly when Richardson returned to the room and settled in next to her. Harriman stepped away from some random well-wisher in midsentence and made his way to the pair. He reached out his hand and, when Richardson took it, he pulled him into the required fake hug.

The room was noisy but the men's mouths were next to each others' ears so they could speak with no one else hearing.

"What did you think of my act?"

"Cherie told me that I'm going to lose."

"I hope she's right."

Harriman released the hug and looked into Gary's eyes. The look of defeat he saw there meant the last hurdle between him and his dream was almost behind him. He couldn't figure out Richardson's tricks, but he could still beat him. And now, he could live out his life as a headliner.

"Gary Richardson!" A staffer's voice erupted from the door. It was time.

Al was second-guessing her plan with Mercurio. After the last round, with Richardson neck-a-neck with Harriman as a frontrunner, the idea of bringing Mercurio onto the stage as a subject matter expert who could roam and pick his own vantage point had seemed like great television. But after the act that Harriman had just performed, Richardson was clearly second place. Now, it might look like the show was playing favorites and throwing unfair obstacles in Richardson's path.

She would pull Mercurio. It was the right call. She spoke into her headset. "Hey Brian."

"Yes?" The young man's voice responded.

But she couldn't answer. She was suddenly consumed with terror. A small choking sound was all she could utter.

"Al? Are you all right?"

She fought for control of her emotions and forced out words. "Yeah... I'm fine..." Even to herself, she didn't sound fine.

"What do you need?" Brian's tone had a sense of urgency in response to the odd call.

Her mouth worked, trying to form more words. Finally, she pushed out: "Nothing. Never mind." Mercurio would stay in.

Brian's voice was non-plussed, "Okay."

After the words came out, the fear abated. What the hell was this? An anxiety attack? That kind of shit was not going to slow her down today. She got her breath and regained her composure.

She continued on the line with Brian, "How long before Gary Richardson's set?"

The normalcy of the question calmed him as well. "We have to clear the stage and set up. Probably five minutes."

"Thanks." Her heart was still racing.

She pulled off her earphones and microphones. She had never had a panic attack before. Whatever it was had sucked. She took deep breaths.

After a moment, it seemed to have passed and she had a job to do. By the time Richardson got on stage, she had forgotten all about it.