Page 3 of Ace of Swords

Chapter Two

Two weeks earlier

For a black-tie event, there were a lot of vibrant colors in the room. Not only on the walls, or along the over-packed tables of over-priced cheese and shrimp, but on the bodies of the guests. Gucci purses, Michael Kors, Chanel—I knew them all by sight.

I had to. One of the first things I noticed when running Sergio’s expense reports was howmuchthe man wasted on clothing. Not just for himself, but for his clients. He was obsessed with gifting luxury brands, like he was searching for an excuse to blow his hard-earned cash.

My eyes darted from guest to guest, keeping a running tally in my head.Two-thousand... fifteen-thousand...I made it to forty-grand before I finished walking through the entry-way of the mansion. Sergio’s hand clamped down on me, halting me in my tracks. “You made it!” he laughed, glancing me over quickly. “You look good enough. This the nicest thing you own? I know a guy downtown that works with custom fabric from Italy, remind me to buy you a new suit at our next meeting.”

I brushed the knot of my coal-black tie. “Please don’t.”

His laugh was strong; it drew polite smiles from everyone in earshot. “Come on, Rolland. Let me show you around. This is the first time you’ve been in here, huh?”

Not quite. But I wasn’t keen to correct him. “I’d love a tour.”

“Sure, sure.” His finger jabbed my broad chest. “Don’t use this as a chance to scold me later for where my money ends up. You’re not here to work tonight, you’re here to have fun, so turn that brain of yours off.”

Instantly I remembered another time someone wanted me to turn my brain off.

It was my fifth birthday party and I’d been obsessed with magic. No matter how hard my parents tried to sign me up for soccer or take me out to the playground, my weekends were spent with my magic set, practicing the same card tricks and hidden coin illusions again and again. So naturally for my party, my parents hired a magician, assuming I’d be delighted by an up-close and private show. And I was amused as I watched the magician work, because I recognized every trick he did and could replicate it myself. I was studying the fluidity of his act and taking mental notes so I could improve my own. I was having a great time, laughing and watching with my schoolmates, until his final act.

No matter how much I’d begged my parents, they’d refused to buy me a dove. My five-year-old brain knew that to be arealmagician, I needed a bunny or a dove to step up my act. Bunnies seemed like they required too much care, so I had my heart set on a dove. And here it was, right in front of me for the first time, a magician about to do the dove pan trick.

He showed the audience his shiny brass pan, demonstrating that it was empty inside. The pan looked like a typical dish I’d find in my mother’s kitchen. He filled the pan with a clear liquid and then dramatically cracked an egg inside it. With a flourish, he lit the pan on fire and quickly slammed the lid on top to extinguish the flame. My friends were squealing, but I was laser focused, watching for the slightest sleight of hand or movement from within his jacket.

He commanded the audience of five-year-olds to repeat the magic words, “Happy Birthday, Rolland,” (a weak connotation in my opinion), and then he lifted the lid to reveal a single gray dove inside. The other children erupted in applause as he took his bow, and my mother’s voice rang out “Cake time!”

But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t join the other children who were hovering over my birthday cake and waiting to belt outHappy Birthdayto me. My mother begged me to justbelieve,to stop thinking so much and come enjoy my party. But my mind was in chaos. I had a buzzy feeling in my head that wouldn’t go away.

Where had that dove come from? It didn’t add up for me.

I went over every step of that trick, tried to find some explanation for how that dove appeared. I didn’tbelievein magic. I believed in processes and logic, and I wanted to understand. I ignored my parents’ pleas and examined that brass pan until the magician finally promised to teach me the trick after I blew out my candles. And he did teach me the trick—the secret is in the lid.

I've never been able to turn my brain off. Not once.

My lips tightened. “I can’t.”

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