Real Magic (12 page)

He shot back the whiskey and returned to his cards, but nothing he tried solved the problem. With a disgruntled moan, he threw the cards onto the bed and flicked on the radio. Thank goodness he still had that pleasure. Though television and the Internet were decades away from creation, good old radio existed to fill the gaps of time with lovely voiced harmonies and jazzy big bands. Even the news breaks were entertaining. Announced in that old time radio voice that, Duncan had to remember, was not old time at all but merely the way they did radio.

"... of sadness and strife when the National Guard was ordered by California Governor Merriam to end the chaos at San Francisco's waterfront area after the organized strike that began May 9th deteriorated into violent riots," the broadcast went and Duncan let another half-hour slip by to these oddly comforting voices.

When the show "Believe It or Not" kicked in, Duncan had to laugh. "Well, Mr. Ripley, I believe a hell of a lot more now." He pulled out his sketch of the door and worked on it for most of the show. He closed his eyes, imagined the door leaning against the wall in Pappy's cluttered apartment, and then checked his drawing. This line needed shortening. That symbol had more swoop. He would close his eyes again — definitely more swoop.

The universe continued to play with Duncan, though, for when he glanced at his watch, he discovered that he suddenly had only twenty minutes to clean up and get to the Magic Emporium or he'd be late. He had picked up a few toiletries and a clean shirt earlier in the day, and now learned just how far toothpaste flavor had come since 1934. Straight baking soda might have been preferable, but he pushed through the process, got dressed, and hurried down the street for his date.

A scrawny woman wearing a brown, patched overcoat stood on the corner selling flowers for a penny. She had a meager selection, probably plucked from somebody else's garden, but Duncan picked out a dozen yellow daffodils and gave the lady a dime and a nickel. "Keep the change," he said, garnering many thanks and praise from the poor woman.

When he arrived at the apartment, he discovered a lightness in his step that energized his heart. Just because this was about the business of getting home did not have to preclude him from enjoying the quaintness of the evening. After all, never before had he stood at a woman's door with flowers in his hand. Other than some girls from high school, he'd never dated anybody worth the effort. It wasn't that he scorned such encounters, but rather that the kind of women who sought out card cheats were never the kind of women who wanted flowers. Yet in 1934, things were different. At least, they were treating him different. As he rapped his knuckles on the door, he had to admit, he kind of liked the change.

Vincent opened the door, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You're so sweet. I'm more for roses myself, but I'll take these."

"You touch them and you'll have to answer to Lucy."

"And no man wants that." Vincent clapped Duncan on the back. "Come on in." Then with a raised voice, he said, "Your date's here, sis."

"I'll be right out," Lucy called back.

Vincent shrugged. "She'll be right out. Come in, have a seat."

Once more, the difference in era hit Duncan. The sparse apartment consisted of a single open space with two windows overlooking the street above the magic shop. A card table with four unmatched chairs occupied the center of the small room. Just off the front door, the floor switched from wood to tile and a long counter with a sink and shelves denoted the "kitchen." A stained cloth curtain hid the workings under the sink and a heavy looking box stood at the side of the counter. The far end of the room had a brown-and-white striped curtain that ran from ceiling to floor. From the sides, it was evident that a bed and dresser were on the other side. The only other actual room in the apartment, one with walls and a door, formed a corner several steps in from the front. This was the bathroom, and Duncan could hear Lucy humming from inside.

"Ready to show me how I did the trick?" Vincent asked as he straddled a chair at the card table.

"No," Duncan admitted. "I'm getting close, though."

"I must say I thought you'd have figured it out already."

"I've had quite a lot on my mind lately."

"I suppose so." Vincent glanced at the bathroom door. "Do I need to play the big brother with you? You know to treat her better than a princess, right? She's had it hard. I mean, who hasn't? But she's been stuck traipsing around with me, so I'd like to see her happy. She deserves to be happy."

"Don't worry. I'll be perfect."

With a stringent look, Vincent watched Duncan. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know. I'll be a gentleman. A perfect gentleman. Relax. I won't do anything a big brother would disapprove of."

"It better be that way. I'm going against my good judgment by allowing her to date a known card cheat. If I didn't like you so much, I'd have kicked you in your ass for asking her out. So, don't make me regret my decision."

Duncan forced out a jovial spirit and picked up a deck of cards off the table. "Will you relax already? It's going to be fine. She'll have a wonderful evening, but not too wonderful. Okay?"

Vincent winked and took a long draw on his cigarette.

The bathroom door opened and Lucy walked out wearing a light, summer dress. She had done her makeup to accentuate her lips and cheekbones, and the result proved quite effective. Duncan stared at her, stunned into silence, knowing that he had seen this beauty before but feeling like he witnessed her for the first time all over again.

"Well, I can't argue with a reaction like that," Lucy said. "Has Vincent done his big brother duties and made you feel like you can't even smile at me."

Duncan chuckled. "He certainly has."

"Good then. You have my permission to ignore everything he said. Shall we go before he tries to stall us with a magic trick?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Lucy bent down and kissed Vincent's forehead. "Don't wait up for me."

"I better not have to," Vincent grumbled but Duncan could see that it was all a familial game.

Cooler by at least five degrees, the downstairs air had a slight breeze that made it seem even nicer. Duncan put his arm around Lucy's shoulder. "I thought we'd have dinner at The Walter Hotel. Does that sound good?"

Lucy scurried ahead, getting out from his arm. She turned around, her brow drawn down. "Now, look. I don't know what kind of girls you're used to dealing with, but I won't be hung on like you're a sailor just arrived into port. Have some manners, please."

Duncan pulled back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Um ... forgive me here but I'm not that good at dating in the 1930s."

"Did you get a bump on the head or something? Forgot how to date after the Crash?"

"Something like that." Duncan glanced around the sidewalk to see if they were causing a scene, when he noticed how all the couples strolled together. "Oh. Of course." He put out his arm, bent at the elbow. "Would this be better?"

Lucy relaxed into her easy smile and wrapped her arm around his. "That's much more appropriate. Especially if you managed reservations at The Walter. I hope we're going to the cafe, though, because we are not dressed up enough for the formal dining room."

"The cafe's all I could get a table for on such short notice, but they do maintain a few for hotel guests. From the way the person taking the reservation sounded, she was mighty upset at having to deal with me."

"All the more reason to go there."

She couldn't have said anything more right. That kind of spunk hooked Duncan hard. They quickened their pace, excitement mounting as they neared the hotel.

Like the previous night, business at The Walter Hotel boomed. One would have been hard pressed to believe an economic depression, let alone The Great Depression, had taken the country into a stranglehold. Perhaps it was the holiday crowd, but Duncan found it difficult to buy that as a reason. After all, who would choose this nothing town as a holiday destination.

"Is it always like this?" he asked as they entered the lobby and headed for the outdoor cafe.

Lucy's eyes drank in every sight — all the finely dressed people, the gold and marble decor, the giant chandeliers. "I wouldn't know. This is the first time I've ever been here."

"Still, this is not that big of a town. Doesn't this hotel seem a bit too much for the town to support?"

"It's Mr. Walter's money, isn't it? And the place employs a lot of people, so I'm pretty sure the Reedsburg mayor would marry Mr. Walter if that's what was required."

Duncan grinned. No doubt, this hotel would be depositing a lot more cash than it took in from lodgers and the restaurants. With the local government turning a blind eye, Walter could launder most of the money for his New York City connections as well as his own.

From the main restaurant, simply called The Club, the big band finished a raucous number that had the showgirls jiggling their feathers and the audience applauding wildly. The Club's doors had been left open supposedly due to the summer heat, but Duncan suspected it had more to do with enticing those in the lobby than anything else. It worked, too. Many people stopped a moment to peek over at the door, trying to glimpse a bit of the excitement inside.

Though the Walter Cafe lacked the atmosphere of The Club, it had an intimacy Duncan appreciated more for a date. Outside and cooler in the night air, they were taken to a table farthest from view by a disapproving maitre'd. A waiter poured water in glasses as if it were the worst chore of his life. All of this greatly amused Lucy.

Duncan, on the other hand, took offense. "You know, I'm staying at this hotel. You'd think they'd be nicer to the people paying their bills."

Lucy waved it off. "There's always going to be idiots in the world. They take a look at my dress and make decisions as to what the rest of me is like."

"I think they're judging my ability to tip more than your dress."

"Either way, it's all appearances with rich folk. You can't let it get to you."

Though still miffed, Duncan tried to take on a bit of Lucy's calm. "I don't like to be disrespected like that. For nothing, I mean. I'll bet you anything there's a card game going in the back and I could clean out all those snooty waiters in an hour."

"I bet you could. But then you are a cheat."

Duncan couldn't help but laugh. The waiter returned, and Duncan ordered filet mignon with a baked potato and steamed broccoli. Lucy, however, stumbled around the menu.

"Is there a problem, madam?" the waiter said as if he might be called upon to read for a clearly uneducated, illiterate girl.

"I don't know what to get," she said, looking to Duncan for help.

Duncan understood right away. "You want a steak, too? It's okay. Anything you want. Don't look at the prices."

She leaned closer to him, speaking barely above a whisper. "It's two dollars. I could buy a pound of hamburger for ten cents. I could feed Vincent and myself for weeks on what that steak costs."

"But it wouldn't be half as delicious. Come on. Live a little tonight. Besides, it's not your money. It's not even my money. I won it at cards."

That settled it for her. With renewed confidence she ordered the steak and asked for a bottle of wine as well. She lowered her head with a conniving grin. "I feel so criminal."

"It's really okay. I don't mind spending the money on a beautiful woman like you."

Lucy laughed. "That's an awful lie. Do women swoon for you when you say that?"

"I don't know. First time I've tried it." Duncan joined in the laughter. It felt good to laugh at himself with her.

This strange territory kept getting stranger. Growing up he had never really understood dating. For years, he blamed his father. The guy never really did much for him, after all, and so he never saw how to treat a woman right. His real tutor came in the form of Internet porn and from Pappy's DVD collection of old '80s sex comedies. Neither proved very useful other than to guide him into thinking that the whole point of dating, the only point, was to get laid in as athletic a manner as possible.

Cheating cards made more sense and so he stuck to that. When his physical needs took hold and he couldn't think straight, he knew his way around dive bars well enough to find some woman willing to screw the night away and forget it all the next morning.

But sitting with Lucy brought a whole different set of concepts into his brain. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about bedding her, but that wasn't the sole thought surrounding his actions. Even finding information on the door took a backseat for a few moments while he simply bathed in her presence. Her gorgeous smile, her bright eyes, her soft voice — all of her seemed to exist for no other purpose than to melt him.

"Are you planning on spending the whole evening staring at me or are we going to talk about something?" she asked.

Duncan coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment, and then coughed for real. "Sorry," he said, taking a glass of water. "I'm fine. Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

"Me? Oh, I'm not all that interesting. Mostly I try to help Vincent get his career going. He's been trying to become a professional magician for a long time. And he's good too. You've seen that. But no matter how close he gets, he can't seem to catch that lucky break."