She smiled graciously at Heather. “That sounds fantastic.” It did. Just…their time together was coming to an end just as it got started.
“Are you okay?” Frank asked as they settled into seats halfway back from the stage.
She nodded. What could she say that wouldn’t come off as clingy?
He kissed her cheek, and she focused her energy on that. The sweetness of the moment, the promise for the end of the night.
Soon the lights dimmed, and as dramatic music started, they came back up, revealing a man in a tuxedo in the middle of the stage. He introduced himself as the Wicked Maestro. “Or Wick for short. I’ll also respond to Maestro, and Hey You if you’re holding a twenty.”
The room chuckled.
“Or even a crisp one. Let’s be honest, I’m easy if you want my attention. Now who here has been to a magic show?”
Frank leaned in, brushing his lips against Grace’s ear. “With a crowd this age?”
Everyone’s hand went into the air.
Wick cleared his throat. “Okay, so I’ve gotta do some new tricks. Err….”
That got another laugh.
And sure enough, his first couple of illusions were ones Grace had seen before. A floating table, a couple of card tricks. But then he surprised the crowd with some unexpected tricks, many of them pulling people from the audience.
Grace found herself clapping and laughing along. “He’s good,” she murmured to Frank.
Wick disappeared behind a screen, then came back juggling two balls and a…gun. An extra long one. Not quite a rifle, but longer than a pistol. Shocked reactions and nervous laughs rippled through the audience.
Grace shared their surprise, her whole body tensing up.
“That’s a paintball gun,” Frank said quietly in her ear.
Oh, well that was better than a real weapon.
“And for my next trick,” the illusionist said as he continued to juggle. “I need a volunteer who knows their way around firearms and is used to taking orders. Because I need someone who will, on my order, shoot me right in the face.” The crowd gasped. “Is anyone here a police officer? Anyone with military training?”
Grace pivoted her head towards Frank. His neck darkened just above his collar, and she jerked her attention back to the stage, but it was too late. Wick had noticed, and whoever was operating the lighting had as well. A spotlight landed on Frank.
Wick came closer. “You, sir. Are you a police officer?”
Frank cleared his throat. “Navy.”
“Excellent, excellent. Come with me, if you don’t mind. You’re just the man for this trick.”
She felt Frank’s discomfort viscerally.I’m so sorry, she thought. He reached over and patted her knee, giving her a half-smile before standing up. “We need to work on your poker face,” he murmured.
“You don’t need to do this,” she whispered up at him.
“It’s fine. If the man wants me to shoot him with a paint pellet, who am I to say no?”
She still bit her lip.
But as Frank strode to the stage, her nerves on his behalf fell away, and she sat back in her chair. It was hard not to appreciate his presence. His grace for his large size, the way he commanded the stage. She could imagine him in his uniform, but even out of it, with a few days of camp scruff on his jaw and wearing nothing more than a faded t-shirt and cargo shorts, he looked in charge.
The magician—who had requested Frank, after all—even looked a little nervous.
That’s right, buddy, Grace thought.You want him to shoot you in the face. Crazy pants.
Wick explained to the crowd that what he was going to hand Frank was not a real gun, but a paintball gun, which Grace already knew. Then he showed everyone a single paint round and handed it to Frank. “Write your initials on that for me, sir.”
