Removing it, I handed the rag back to the red head then unfolded the paper so everybody could see. A drawing of a pineapple was revealed and Ben swore some more.
“Check your pocket, buddy,” I said, a grin tugging at the edges of my mouth. I fucking loved this part. Ben slid his hand in his pocket, coming up empty. “It’s gone,” he breathed.
I held up the drawing. “Is this what you drew?”
He nodded fervently. “It’s not just what I drew, that’s my drawing…how the hell did you…”
I shot him a wink then raised my hands in the air. “I give you the beauty of illusion, ladies and gents.” They all started clapping and whistling, while a bunch of people came forward to drop some cash in my hat. They had no clue how much I needed it.
After a minute the crowd dispersed and I picked up my hat, folding it in half and shoving it in my backpack. When I glanced up only one person remained and a grin tugged at my mouth.
“You wanna go grab a drink with me?” I asked, eyeing her.
She checked her watch. “I’m on my lunch break. I have to be back at the office in forty minutes.”
“I’ll make sure you’re back in thirty-five.”
“I’m involved. With a person. Who is my boyfriend . . .” she went on, then cringed. It came out awkward, like she was trying to convince herself that spending time with me was a bad idea. “Not that I’m implying that you’re inferring anything, I just like to be honest about statuses.”
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what people saw when they looked at me. Tattoos, baggy jeans, scuffed boots and the premature grey patches under my eyes that spoke of living rough and too little sleep. By contrast, this chick was nothing like me. Maybe that’s why I liked her.
“I’m not asking to get hitched. Just one drink,” I cajoled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
I saw her lips twitch and knew she wanted to smile. Yeah, she was charmed. How could she not be? I was a charming bastard when the mood took me, even if I did look like a street thug.
“Okay, fine,” she relented. “No need to invoke Dr Pepper. Just one drink though.”
“Just one drink,” I said and held my arm out. She hesitated a long moment then carefully took it. “Now I’m in the mood for some cola. Did I just subconsciously suggest that to myself or did you?”
She smiled and let out a small giggle. “You do know Dr Pepper isn’t technically a cola, right?”
“I did not,” I grinned.
“Well, legally speaking, it isn’t,” she went on, her face animated. “Up until the 1960’s the drink was confined to the South and Southwest, because Coca-Cola and Pepsi had already built their respective networks of independent bottlers, and those bottlers held the exclusive contracts to turn the syrups into colas and distribute nationwide. In order to get around this, there was a federal court ruling in 1963 that declared Dr Pepper’s unique flavor marked it as not actually a cola product, hence allowing nationwide distribution. Much to Coke and Pepsi’s dismay, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I echoed.
Seriously, where had this chick come from? Who got this jazzed up about the definition of cola? I was in love already.
A moment of quiet passed between us as I led her to a decent looking cocktail bar and opened the door. She stepped through, casting her gaze to me over her shoulder as I followed her inside.
“You’re not going to tell me why you wouldn’t pick me to volunteer for your trick, are you?”
I pulled out a stool by the bar and gestured for her to sit. “Why do you want to know?”
She chewed on her lip. “I don’t really like not knowing things.”
I glanced at her mouth then back up to her eyes. “Yeah, I got that.”
“Is it because of my job?”
“Your job?”
“You asked me what I did for a living, and after I answered you seemed to decide definitively that you didn’t want me for the trick,” she explained.
I rubbed at my jaw. “Tricks like the one I did today work on suggestibility, and some people are more suggestible than others. There isn’t one simple answer as to how I determine a person’s suggestiveness. It’s more a collection of factors.”
“Such as?”
I chuckled. “You’re not letting this go, are ya?”
She smiled and shook her head. It was cute. I let out a deliberating breath and leisurely let my eyes run over her. She really was nice to look at, and the sexiest part was she didn’t even know it. “Well, in your case it was a matter of not being nervous enough. Usually, when I single people out, particularly in an environment where they have to come up on stage, they get nervous. It makes them a whole helluva lot more suggestible than a calm person. You were too calm for me to suggest anything to you, because you were far too absorbed with curiosity about my tricks to be nervous about being put on the spot. It’s also the reason why sociopaths don’t make for good volunteers. They don’t get nervous,” I joked and she paled.
“I’m not a sociopath,” she said fervently.
Christ, now I’d offended her. “I know that. That wasn’t what I was saying. I’ve had my fair share of experience with head cases to know you’re not one of them,” I told her, my voice unexpectedly sincere.
She studied me a moment, and it wasn’t often I felt like someone was really seeing me, but right then it felt like she did. Her expression turned a little sad. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
I eyed her. “Your sister or your mom?” A pause as I took in her expression. “No, wait, your old man?”
She sucked in a breath. “How did you…”
I tapped the side of my head. “I see more than most people, Janie.”
Now she gasped. “I never told you my name.”
Reaching forward, I picked up the lanyard that hung around her neck and flipped it over. “Pretty easy to figure out when it’s right in front of me,” I smiled, allowing my knuckles to skim her be-sweatered chest ever so slightly. I thought I saw the tiniest tremble go through her.
She put her hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes at herself. “Duh. I’m an idiot.”
I shot her a perceptive look. “We both know that’s not true.”
For the second time she blushed at me. I liked it. Turning to grab the barman’s attention, I ordered a beer then looked to Janie. She fiddled with the hem of her sweater, glancing overhead at the cocktail menu. I knew she’d made her choice when she sat up straighter. “I’ll have a margarita.”
I smiled. “Letting loose, huh?”
“If you think one margarita is letting loose, you should come to my knitting group sometime,” she replied.
“Oh yeah? You like to get tipsy while making mittens and shit?”
She shook her head. “Well, I don’t actually knit, but anyway, that’s a whole other story. The point is, I’m tall. It takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” she said as the barman got to work on our drinks. I leaned my elbow on the counter and studied her. I had to admit, she had me intrigued. There was this mixture of innocence and worldliness about her that appealed to me. When the barman set her cocktail down in front of her, I watched as she took a sip, bringing the salted rim to her lips. She tipped her tongue to it ever so slightly and my balls stiffened.
Quit looking at her mouth, ya perv.
I cleared my throat. “So, you like being an accountant?”
She shrugged and set her glass down. “I know what you’re going to say, it’s unusual for a woman to pursue a math based career.”