Alex nodded, trying to push the craziness from his mind. “Three shows a week.”
“Only three?”
“Think about what we’re asking Joanna to do. What we’re asking of ourselves. Magick or not, it’s intense, Vis. Besides, Jago’s covering the theatre rental.”
“Huh.” Vicente took a drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke go with a low whistle. “Well, I can’t accuse the guy of not being invested. Whether it’s in you or the show, I’m not sure.”
The athletic form of a hairy, shirtless young man distracted Alex as he jogged along the paths. He tilted his head to watch the square shoulders and powerful furry legs, separated by a flimsy pair of bright red shorts, disappear down the Paseo. Alex laughed as he caught Vis doing exactly the same thing. “I didn’t think that was your type.”
“I don’t hate beards,” Vicente said.
“As a gay man, I’m obliged to resist a possibly bi-phobic joke here.”
Vicente laughed as he nudged Alex hard in the arm. “Arsehole.”
“Thank you.” Alex grinned, getting up from the fountain’s edge, swinging his arms to stretch them and wishing he had halfthe jogger’s confidence to remove his shirt. Fucking heat. “It’s going to be great, Vis.”
“Please, feel free to put that out into the universe as many times as you need to.”
Alex wasn’t sure he needed the universe. But Jago? Oh boy, did they need Jago.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Alex, congratulations.”
“There’s still an hour until curtain, Maria.” Premature or not, it was nice to have her confidence. She did scrub up nicely in the boyish, slicked-back haircut and bolero jacket she donned for openings.
“I know, I know. But I’ve every confidence in what I saw. I trust rehearsals went well? Smart of you to keep their location a secret, by the way. Where’s your friend?”
Rehearsals? A secret location? Alex wondered what Vis had told her. “Joanna’s backstage. Vicente’s in the booth, getting ready.”
“I mean your other friend. The strange one who wanted one-night-only?” She raised her vermouth and took a long sip. “Handsome, though.”
After returning from four days in San Sebastián, Jago had indeed promised Alex he’d be there for opening night, and each night after that. Besides this, however, they’d met only twice, for a drink at Angel Sierra and for a stroll through the Prado. Both had felt shockingly mundane, with Jago deflecting all but the most superficial questions about witchcraft or his trip. They’d retreated to Jago’s apartment after the night at Angel Sierra where, after several more glasses of wine on the couch,they’d crashed in Jago’s upstairs bed. Their attempt at drunken lovemaking had ended with them snoozing in each other’s arms. The mutual blowjobs they’d exchanged come morning were a far cry from Alex’s first night in Jago’s quarters. Jago hadn’t even mentioned his witch’s chamber, and Alex had been too polite to ask for an invitation, much less to try Jago’s levitation trick again.
Thathadall happened, hadn’t it?
In truth, Alex had been too fixed on tonight to mind. He’d spent more time with Vicente, who’d become a dance widower as Joanna immersed herself deeper and deeper into preparations. When she’d finally come out with Vicente at the end of the first week, Alex had asked her how everything was going, a question she’d avoided with that wan smile that had become so familiar to him. Vicente on the other hand had insisted she was eating well, sleeping well within her typical nocturnal schedule, and had never seemed happier.
Several times, Alex had tried to bring up his strange night atLa Otra Cava, but as days passed, this encounter seemed more and more like a distant, macabre dream. Vicente, for his part, had experienced no more dreams, distracting himself with Alex and football in equal measure, including one tedious afternoon Alex spent watching one of Vicente’s games, confirming his amicable divorce from the nation’s one true religion. At least Vis had bought him drinks after.
“Heiscoming, isn’t he?” Maria’s voice snapped Alex out of his musings.
“Yes?” Alex glanced at the doors. Confidence, damn it. “Yes, he is.”
“Can I fetch you a drink?”
“No, I’m fine. He’ll be here soon, Maria, I promise.”
“Promise?” She lifted the lipstick-stained glass to her lips again. “It’s your show, not mine.”
Alex excused himself with a wan smile. No longer able to stand watching the silent doors, he disappeared into the darkened theatre and into the tech box. “How’s it going?”
“Hey,” Vicente murmured without looking up. “I think we’re all good, now. Do you think anyone actually saw Leo’s show, even if they bought tickets? Because they fucked like hell with the lighting presets. I told you we at least needed a tech run.”
“Of what?” Alex asked. “Jago says it’s too dangerous to risk a connection more times than we have to.”
“A connection? Is that what we’re calling it now? Mind orgy has a better ring to it, surely?”
