The Tinder Chronicles: The Amateur Magician

Fiction Friday

I don’t usually go on dinner dates; I really prefer grabbing drinks. Dinner is so formal, and there’s always the concern that I’ll take a bite of salad and fail to notice the huge piece of green stuck between my teeth. On top of that, of course, there’s the problem of potentially bad breath, along with my sometimes embarrassing dietary preferences as a gluten-free vegetarian.

But, deciding to step outside of my comfort zone, I said yes to a dinner date with Malcolm. He seemed nice enough, I was running out of groceries for a meal at home, and he offered to take me to my favorite Spanish tapas restaurant (where I knew I wouldn’t be getting a salad, at least).

I didn’t know much about Malcolm going into the date; he’d told me minimal details about himself, saying he preferred to get to know me in person. As a result, all I really knew was that Malcolm was 26 years old, lived in Alpharetta, just outside of Atlanta, and he had two younger brothers. Not much to go on, but hey — I was excited to meet someone new and mysterious.

Little did I know exactly how mysterious Malcolm would turn out to be.

I arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, and when I checked in at the hostess stand, she informed me that my date was already seated and led me to the table. Malcolm stood up when he saw me, and I was able to see his odd ensemble: black slacks, one of those t-shirts that looked like a tuxedo, and a thin black cape. It was an odd outfit, but hey — everybody has their personal style.

“Viggy, I presume? How nice to meet you!” he said, extending a hand.

“You, too!” I said, reaching out my hand to grasp his.

That was a mistake. As soon as our palms touched, he squeezed my hand with a bit too much pressure, and I felt a jarring jolt of vibration and heard a loud buzzing sound. Startled, I jumped and ripped my hand away.

“What the hell!” I said, looking at my palm for signs of injury.

“Hey, hey,” he said, holding up his own hands in a placatory gesture, allowing me to see the small metal circle stuck to the offending palm. “Don’t freak out, it was just a trick.”

A trick? I hadn’t seen one of those hand-buzzy things since I was a kid. What kind of guy incorporates such a ‘trick’ into his first impression with a new date?

Apparently Malcolm did. Or, I suppose I should call him by his stage name: Malcolm the Mysterious, which he announced with a bow, his cape fluttering behind him.

I smiled half-heartedly and nodded, somewhat confused. I was still feeling shaky, but I sat down with him at the table.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his tone contrite. “I thought you would laugh. The kids usually do.”

“What kids?” I asked, rubbing my hand on my leg, trying to get rid of the remaining jitters.

His chest puffed out and he said, “I am the top-performing magician for hire in the Atlanta area.”

“Oh,” I said, shrugging noncommittally. “That’s cool. How’d you get into that?”

“I’ve always loved magic, ever since I was a little tiny kid. And it’s just so gratifying to see all those kids looking up at you with their mouths hanging wide open. I never get tired of that.”

I was unexpectedly touched by his reasoning, and I felt myself softening toward him. “That’s really nice,” I said. “Can you show me a trick?”

“Sure,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I — ”

“Are you ready to order?” asked a waitress, who had appeared out of nowhere.

I was pretty hungry, so I nodded at Malcolm and ordered patatas bravas to start. He ordered meatballs, and the waitress smiled and walked away.

“Okay, so about that trick,” he said, pulling a deck of cards out of his pocket. He shuffled them flamboyantly a few times, then held them out to me, fanned-out and facedown. “Pick a card.”

I selected one from the middle and snuck a peek at it. The Ace of Hearts.

“Alright,” he said. “Now I’m going to look away, and you put that card anywhere you want back in the deck.”

I did as I was told, wedging the card close to his right thumb.

“Perfect.” He shuffled a few more times, but the cards moved differently than they had before, less fluidly. Something was up. In fact, I thought I recognized this particular trick…

He paused and pulled the top card off the deck. It was, indeed, the Ace of Hearts. “Is this your card?” he asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling back, but not exactly impressed. “That’s a cool trick. I actually know how to do that one.”

His grin melted off his face, and his lips turned into a scowl. “No you don’t,” he said. “It’s magic.”

“I mean, not exactly,” I said, gesturing for him to hand me the deck. “It’s pretty simple, really. You just — ”

“No!” he yelped, ripping the deck away from my outstretched fingers. “Shhh! You never reveal how a trick is done!”

“Wow, okay, okay. Calm down. It was a good trick.”

The waitress arrived with our tapas, saving me from having to continue in that particular fraught vein of conversation.

“Mmm, this looks good,” I said, picking up my fork.

“Wait a minute,” he said, a sly smile on his face once again. “Let me show you a real trick. No way you’ve seen this one before.”

I really was quite hungry, but I obliged. “Alright,” I said, setting my fork back down. “Go ahead.”

He lifted his hands up and moved them around like a fortune teller looking into a crystal ball. I didn’t know what to expect, and before I could steel myself, something ripped the tablecloth out from under our dishes. Our glasses went careering to the floor with a tinkly crash, and the entire bowl of steaming hot potatoes fell smack-dab into my lap.

I had no words. All I could do was look up at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

He glanced around nervously, first at everybody who was staring at the debacle, and then back at me. “Ta-da!” he said, his voice far too high-pitched.

That was it. My cute white dress was now a hot mess of fried potatoes, mayonnaise, and red sauce, my thighs were starting to burn, and I could even smell food in my hair. It was time to go home.

I stood up and looked him in the eye. “Well, for my final trick,” I said, “I’m going to make myself disappear.”

I walked right out the door without a glance back at Malcolm the Mysterious.