Magic Mansion (21 page)

V
IDEO
J
OURNAL
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MAZING
F
AYE

When Red Team unveiled their Zig Zag Cabinet, I’ll admit, I was a little scared. It looked really, really good. They’ve got some serious talent over there—especially now that all their deadweight is gone. They’re all pros. Not that the Gold Team members aren’t…we’ve got Ricardo. He’s good.

What’s funny is, back on the first day, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when Sue picked me—because, come on, she works in a gift shop. I really thought it was some kind of fluke that she’d come in second place on that initial challenge, and Red Team was going to be the team to beat. I even figured if there was one consolation to being on a team full of losers, it would be that I could outshine them.

And then we won. Every single challenge.

I think sometimes luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it…I think that plays a big part in people’s lives. I wouldn’t have chosen to be on Gold Team myself, but now look at us. We’re kicking some serious ass.

Which isn’t to say that providence is just going to hold your hand and present everything to you on a silver platter. You’ve got to work for the things you want. And I’ll be damned if I ever bomb another challenge.

___

“Can’t you get a move on?” Iain said. Interns. Honestly. Sometimes it seemed like they were more trouble than they were worth. Even the free ones. But Iain needed to make do with what he had, and he’d be damned if he ended up on the receiving end of yet another one of Marlene’s snotty looks. And he’d be damned if these little twerps kept him from going home at a decent hour, too. “Paint faster, people. It’s not the Sistine Chapel.”

In an ideal world, the studio’s prop room could have provided the necessary accouterments for the show. “I need lots of wands,” Marlene had told him. So he’d put a call in, and they’d sent down a good two dozen of them.

To which she’d responded with a “look.”

If she meant a thousand, she should have been more fucking specific.

When he finally found a manufacturer who was willing to overnight the damn things to him, they cheerfully informed him that they would do just that…after an eight to ten day manufacturing period. Because apparently the need for magic wands was not so great that anyone in the whole damn country would stock
a thousand
of them.

Which, of course, Marlene needed for
tomorrow
.

Luckily, once Iain ducked back into his trailer to pace and swear, he spotted the piece of “chalk” he’d given the Math Wizard during the filming of the intro, a piece of dowel covered in white correction fluid, and he had his great idea. Not terribly great—magic wands made from dowels didn’t look nearly as good as the wands from the prop department, which were tapered on one side and carefully finished, with a glossy ebony body and a faux ivory tip—but at least he’d have them in time for the damn stunt.

If only the pathetic interns would stop screwing around and get to work.

___

As much as Ricardo enjoyed the company of his teammates, the time they spent waiting for things to happen was nerve-wracking. There was a pool on the property, but it was out of repair, drained and off-limits. There was a workout room, but Kevin Kazan was usually in there pumping iron—and the grunting noises he made with each and every curl, extension or raise were, frankly, disturbing (plus there was the thought of his perspiration coating everything…just, ew.) There was a full bar…but with handhelds drifting through their living space hoping to spy a bit of interpersonal conflict, even between challenges, it seemed unwise to give in to temptation and go the unfortunate Ken Barron route. And there was a hastily-manicured section of backyard that seemed ideal for sunbathing, but once Ricardo and Sue spread out their towels, they soon discovered that clouds of gnats from the unkept areas were quick to descend on them. Besides, it turned out the grass had only been
painted
green. It poked right through the towels and prickled their backs, and it crunched every time they rolled over.

So it was with a certain dread-tinged relief that Ricardo greeted Iain when the producer strode into the front hall, where the Gold Team members were perched on the edge of the fountain, wagering guesses as to what the odd chemical smell in the water might be. Dread, because the sight of Iain meant the announcement of some weird, contrived activity that would ultimately end in someone getting voted off. But relief, since the anticipation was killing them.

“Heads up, kids. It’s time for your next stunt. Swing by wardrobe, then meet me in the basement at five-fifteen ready to roll in your brand-spanking new swimwear.”

The basement? That part of the mansion had been strictly off-limits to the contestants.
 

Iain turned and left. Ricardo looked at Sue, who shrugged. No one tried to stop Iain. It wasn’t as if they were under the illusion that he might tell them what they were up against.

As the teammates stood to head over to wardrobe, Muriel said, “Do you think there’ll be pudding involved?”

Faye grumbled, “There’d better not be.”

“I dunno,” Muriel said as they trooped into wardrobe and began making their way past racks of sequins and satin. “I could really go for some pudding.”

While Ricardo scrutinized the three-way mirror to determine which sparkly gold briefs made his butt look shapelier, it occurred to him that he’d presumed he would only don such a costume while lounging beside a serene, blue in-ground pool. The word “Mansion” in the show’s title was no doubt to blame for his misconception that anything in his reality TV experience would actually be glamorous. Then again, some things you just can’t anticipate. Like painted grass. Or giant vats of pudding.

The wardrobe assistant stuck her head into his makeshift changing stall, looked directly at his butt, and said, “Definitely that pair.”

Ricardo took a deep breath and nodded. He supposed there wasn’t anything left to do, other than show up and try to make the best of things.

The basement, it turned out, was vast. Its ceilings were high and there were no exposed beams or concrete walls, as would be found in any normal middle-class home. But there was still a dank, utilitarian feel about it, all the same.

The tile floors were set with drains, and the camera rigs and lighting hugged the wall with the electrical box and hot water heater. A four-foot-tall pool with inflatable sides took up most of the set. Hard to say what it contained. A silver solar cover shielded the contents from view.

Bev, Sue and Muriel were right behind Ricardo. Sue looked like Miss Nebraska in her new low-lighted hairdo, spike heels and gold lamé one-piece with high cut legs. Muriel wore a suit with a plainer cut and a gold snakeskin pattern that left the eye wondering where to look. Bev seemed awkward in glasses, earrings, and geriatric-looking gold paisley swim dress that managed to highlight every unflattering bulge.

Faye brought up the rear in gold kitten heels and a thigh-length gold sparkle wrap cinched tight over her swimsuit. She strode to a piece of gaffing tape on the floor Ricardo hadn’t even noticed, and gazed at the wall on the far side of the basement. No doubt steeling herself for whatever new challenge was in store. And hoping there’d be no pudding involved.

Across the pool, the Red Team gathered…what was left of it. Kevin Kazan wore huge red swim trunks with elaborate black criss-crossed lacing at the fly and the side seams. They hung low on his hips, boxy and stiff, and above the waistband, his tattooed abs were so cut they didn’t even look real. Jia wore a low-cut red one piece with a glittery black dragon emblazoned down the side. And John towered over them, smooth and tan, lean and natural, in a pair of simple red racing shorts. From across the basement, he looked statuesque, and timeless.

While Ricardo didn’t quite need to give himself a mental cold shower by imagining income taxes or prickly spray-painted lawns…he couldn’t resist admiring. Kevin looked back at him, arms crossed and chin tipped up, as if he read Ricardo’s attention in the Red Team’s direction as a challenge.

Whatever. Professor Topaz rocked a swimsuit like nobody’s business.

“My, my, my,” Monty purred with mock lasciviousness as he was ushered in past the Gold Team. “I’m stoked for tonight’s challenge.”
 

Sue tittered. Faye was so focused she didn’t even notice. Muriel looked down at her snakeskin bathing suit, then told Ricardo, “You think that was directed at me? Hot damn. Maybe I should’ve gone for the bikini.”

While Ricardo wouldn’t have dreamed of telling Muriel not to get her hopes up, he highly doubted she’d been the object of the announcer’s playful leering. Then again, considering the age difference between himself and John (and the unabashed enjoyment he was getting from those red shorts) he supposed he could be wrong.

Crew shuffled, cameras swept, and finally when everyone was in place, Iain gave his signal.

“Good evening, Magicians,” Monty read from the teleprompter. “Water and stage magic have long gone hand in hand. Back at the turn of the Twentieth Century when it was considered scandalous for a woman to show so much as a bare ankle, Harry Houdini was being chained up in a water tank wearing nothing but a pair of woolen shorts.”

A camera hovered to the side of Ricardo. He put his weight on one foot and made sure his body was at a pleasing angle. But subtly. He didn’t want to look like he was posing, after all.

“Another magical prop that’s withstood the test of time—a prop that is now synonymous with stage magic—is the magic wand.

“Wands are one of the many props typically employed for close-up magic: drawing the viewers’ eyes to the very spot the performer wishes his or her audience to look, to distract from their sleight of hand. They’re not typically used in underwater cabinet tricks.

“So tonight in Magic Mansion, we thought we’d try a little
twist
…and combine water with wands…in the Wand Pond.”

Grips whisked the cover off the pool while cameras circled. The pool was full of water. Muriel sighed. There’d be no pudding tonight.

“Inside this pool, you’ll find a thousand wands.” A spotlight blinked on, shining on a board with four black-painted sticks pinned to it like specimens. “Nine hundred of them are the same size, ten inches long.” Ricardo noted the demo-wands were, indeed, different sizes…but only marginally different. Which would be basically impossible to tell, underwater. “Ninety wands are ten and a half inches long. Only nine wands are eleven inches long. And a single wand is a full twelve inches.

“You’ll be searching for the longest wand. You have fifteen minutes to complete this task. You may only hold one wand in each hand at any given time, and anyone who picks up more than two at a time will be disqualified. In the event that the longest wand found by each team matches, the team who found that wand first and exited the Wand Pond will win the competition. So when you’re satisfied with your wand, hop out of the pool.

“The winning team will spend tomorrow wining and dining with a special V.I.P., but more importantly than that, they’ll go into the next challenge with a big advantage. You’ll have three minutes to confer with your teammates on your strategy, and then it’s time for a dip.

“And if anyone should happen to find the single longest wand, not only will their team win the current challenge…but that magician will be immune in the next elimination round.”

Two handhelds edged into the Gold Team’s huddle. Ricardo saw that, across the pool, they were doing the same for the Red Team…which only had three members.

That wasn’t very fair. Gold Team had five chances in a thousand to find the longest wand. Red Team had only three.

“It’s statistically improbable anyone will find that twelve-inch wand,” Bev said. “And since it’s entirely possible that everyone comes up with a short wand, one of us needs to grab the first wand she sees and hop right back out. That way, we’ll win the time-score. Who wants to do that? Faye? You’re quick.”

“No…not me,” Faye said. “Someone else.”

“Not Ricardo,” Bev said, “Assuming he doesn’t have a problem with water. You don’t, do you?” Ricardo shook his head no. “He’s got the longest reach. He should stay ’til the very end and keep comparing every wand he grabs to the one already in his hand. Chances are, he’ll end up with one of the ninety 10-1/2 inchers.”

“Not you,” Muriel said to Bev. “I got a feeling you’ll be able to spot a long one. Heh.”

“Accounting for the motion and the refraction of the water…well, it’s hard to say what I’ll be able to see until I get in there. But maybe.”

“I’m quick,” Sue said. “I’ll make a grab and jump right out.” Either Sue was a phenomenally generous team player, or she didn’t seem to think she needed immunity, not at this stage of the game. And Ricardo suspected she didn’t.

“Okay,” Bev said. “Good. And since we’ve got a huge advantage in having five players, we should have someone else jump out with their best wand at the five- and ten-minute marks.”

“Instead of grabbing for wands yourself,” Sue suggested to Bev, “what if you worked with the other players and point out which wand we should take?”

“Good,” Bev said. “I like it.”

“Except me,” Sue said. “I’ll just grab and go as fast as I can. Okay, so who wants to go in what order? Me first, Ricardo last, Bev second-last….”

“I’ll come out after five,” Muriel said. Which would make it unlikely she’d gain the immunity…though, Ricardo reminded himself, Bev said it was improbable anyone would find the twelve-inch wand. While she hadn’t said “impossible,” chances were she reserved that word for literal impossibilities, like Kevin Kazan one day waking up as a tolerable human being.

“Okay,” Sue said, “that leaves Faye at the ten-minute mark. Is everyone on board? High five!”

As Sue high-fived Ricardo, Iain called out, “Okay, enough talking. Everyone face the cameras. Monty, you read that next part.”

While facing the cameras didn’t put Monty in his direct line of sight, something compelled Ricardo to sneak a quick look at him. As the announcer read through whatever was on his teleprompter, his eyes widened. Only briefly, but Ricardo saw what he saw. A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach.