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Like Riding a Bike
She hadn’t been on a date in ages, but some customs are like riding a bike. Perfume dabbed behind each ear, a fresh coat of gloss across her lips, her wild mane tamed with a silk scarf, Gracey sat across a linen covered table smiling nervously at Simon St. Laine. The magician had chosen a posh Italian restaurant that Gracey had never been to, and had just finished ordering their second bottle of wine. Gracey was already beginning to feel the alcohol go to her head.
“So you got into magic by accident, then,” Gracey summarized, still smiling.
The magician swallowed that last bit of chianti in his glass, grinning. “That is a very kind way of putting it,” he said. “I suppose to an extent, we are all predisposed by some circumstance of nature to evolve along certain lines and destinies. Mine, it seems, was bent toward a perfunctory display of mild incompetence.” His eyes twinkled as he said this, and as Gracey moved to interrupt, surely to offer polite contradiction to this self deprecation, the magician held up his hand, shaking his head lightly. “No matter,” he said. “I won’t be doing this forever, I assure you.”
The evening was going better than Gracey had expected. When Simon had picked her up earlier wearing his signature top hot and violet glasses, Tiny had given her sister a weird look and whispered, “That guy is a total freakazoid”. But having sailed cleanly past the first few awkward silences and neatly evaded the choppy waves of past relationships, Gracey and Simon were now resting easy in safe waters. The expensive bottle of chianti Simon has ordered didn’t hurt.
“What about you? Did you always want to operate a bakery?”
The waiter appeared, refilled their wine glasses. Gracey took a small sip, settled back into her chair. “In a way, yes. But I guess it happened on accident,” Gracey explained. “I’ve always baked. I bake when I’m bored, I bake when I’m happy, I bake when I need to think something through. Anyway, after I moved here — which was unintentional, but that’s a whole ‘nother story — I was baking up a storm, you know, being in a new place. But I was baking more pies than I could eat, naturally, and I couldn’t just throw them out. Well,” she paused, looked thoughtful. “I threw out the ones I baked when I was bored or angry.” She wondered if she should explain, but decided not to bother. “So I started baking pies and setting them out on my porch with a little ‘Free pie’ sign. At first, people thought I was crazy. But slowly I started noticing the pies were disappearing. Turns out one of my neighbors, Beatríz Armstrong— do you know her?” When Simon shook his head, Gracey pressed on. “Anyway, she knocked on my door and told me she’d been taking the pies over to the Badlands. Bibi — that’s what everyone calls her — owns a salon, a renovated house on the corner of Church Street and East. Once a month she closes up shop and has the homeless in for showers and haircuts. I guess she feeds them, too, when she can, and apparently she’d been feeding them my pie. So she came by to introduce herself and to tell me I had no business giving away pie that good. She said I should open a proper shop.”
Gracey stopped to catch her breath, momentarily embarrassed that she’d been talking so much, but Simon didn’t seem to mind. He was watching her with a soft smile that warmed Gracey’s cockles. “So, Bibi helped me find a property and when the time was right…it just made sense to buy it and open the bakery properly.”
The magician was nodding, listening carefully. “So you bought it outright, then? Must have been a frightening investment for you.”
She thought a moment about how she wanted to answer. She was usually tight-lipped about her financial situation, but something about the magician’s formality and his sincere interest in her put her at ease. “My family is wealthy,” she explained. “I live off the interest of a trust fund. I’m lucky; I had the option of doing something just because I loved it without having to worry about making a living at it.”
The magician whistled. “You are lucky,” he agreed. “It could easily have gone the other way for you. A life of leisure is not without its own pitfalls. I understand it can be difficult to find fulfillment when everything has been handed to you.”
Gracey thought briefly of Tiny and the messes she had frequently found herself in before coming to Love & War to live with Gracey. It hadn’t ever occurred to Gracey before that the family’s wealth could have had a hand in Tiny’s wildness. She pushed this thought aside. “I originally studied sociology in college,” Gracey said, changing the subject. “But things happen. I found myself here instead and for the most part, I couldn’t be happier. The universe is unpredictable.”
Simon laughed and was about to respond when something just beyond Gracey caught his attention. He stiffened, his demeanor changing abruptly. He sat straighter in his chair, folded his hands in front of him on the table. Gracey turned slightly to see a slight woman approaching their table wearing a fur stole, glinting diamond earrings, and a too-wide smile. It was Simon’s cousin, Kit St. Laine.
“Well, fancy meeting you here!” she exclaimed, leaning down to kiss her cousin on both cheeks. She left a trail of thick, French perfume in her wake. “I didn’t realize you had a taste for Italian fine dining,” she said, winking.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, Kit.” The magician barely met his cousin’s eyes. “I hadn’t realized you were in town.”
Kit giggled prettily. “I hadn’t intended to be! But you know how things go — my line of work can be so unpredictable!”
Simon nodded, cleared his throat. “You remember Gracey Daylittle?” He nodded toward his date.
Kit flicked her eyes to Gracey briefly, and Gracey thought she saw the barest flicker of irritation pass over her face. But then the woman took an exaggerated step backward, and motioned quickly between the two of them. “Hold on just a minute!”she exclaimed, her mouth drawing in to make a perfect o. “You’re not…are you two on a date?”
Simon continued to stare steadfastly down into his plate. Gracey noted a flush of red creeping up the magician’s neck, but something about his expression and the slight tremble in his upper body led Gracey believe the color was from anger, not embarrassment. “I had requested the pleasure of Miss Daylittle’s company for a leisurely evening,” he replied, his voice level.
Kit threw her head back and laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made other people turn their heads and look, which they did, which made Gracey’s cheeks flush red. The small woman shook her head in disbelief, her shining curls bobbing around her face like a dark halo. “Well that is just magnificent,” she patronized. “I mean it, Simon, you are just full of surprises.”
There was a hard edge to her voice, something decidedly unfriendly that set Gracey on edge. Still, she was a southern girl born and bred, and some customs die hard. “Kit, we’ve already finished dinner, but we’d be delighted if you wanted to join us.” Gracey smiled sweetly, hoping she sounded more sincere than she felt.
The woman lifted the wine bottle from the table, turning the label toward her to read it. “Wow, a very nice vintage,” she purred. “I would never have thought you’d know a good wine from a hole in the ground.” She gave Simon another dripping grin, which the magician didn’t notice as he was still staring into his plate. Kit turned her attention to Gracey, whose upturned face was starting to betray her annoyance. “I thank you for the invitation but I sense this was supposed to be a very intimate evening,” she said, winking. Gracey felt her stomach turn an unpleasant flip. “Simon, you will be home at a decent hour, won’t you? I have something we need to…discuss.”
For the first time, Simon looked up to meet his cousin’s eyes, his face stoic. “Would you prefer that I come home now?”
The contrite response caught Gracey off guard, but she was careful to keep the surprise out of her face. Go home with this woman? In the middle of their date? She felt another flush of embarrassment color her cheeks. Was he trying to get out of the rest of the evening? She’d thought things were going so well. But when she sneaked a quick glance at her date she could sense that going home with this woman wasn’t what the magician wanted at all. His expression was impassive, but Gracey could feel displeasure coming off him in waves, and she couldn’t help but wonder at the nature of the undercurrent she felt flowing between the cousins. Kit merely shook her head, the mischievous gleam in her eye all the more apparent. “Not necessary. It can wait,” she said simply. Gathering herself together, the woman gave Gracey a final, tight smile and said, “Very good to see you again, Gracey. Simon.” She bent low and kissed him again, and in an instant, she was gone.
The magician took a moment to compose himself, and then downed the last of his wine. He filled a second glass and it swallowed it as well. When he was finished, he sagged in his chair, his previous glow diminished, if not gone altogether. He smiled apologetically at Gracey, his eyes full of a regret Gracey could scarcely read. “I apologize for the interruption,” he said.
Gracey shrugged, offering an understanding smile. “We can choose our friends,” she said, nonchalant. “We can’t choose our family.”
The corner of the magician’s mouth trembled in what Gracey thought was an attempt at a smile. He gave an absent nod. “There is a deep truth in that statement,” he said. “For all that we are blood relations, Kit and I have always been a difficult pairing. I’m afraid I find her rather abrasive. Still,we have precious few allies in this world. It would be a pity to alienate them.”
His statement hit a little too close to home, and Gracey shifted uncomfortably in her seat as her thoughts shifted to her mother’s letter. She tried to think of a way to save the evening, but her own energy was waning, and she could tell Simon was faring no better. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and said, “Maybe we should call it a night?”
The magician motioned for the bill and offered Gracey a grateful, if weary, smile.
He walked Gracey to her front door. Tiny had left the porch light on for them. For a moment, Gracey wished she’d had a reason to lock her doors, and therefore a reason to search her purse for her keys, a reason to keep Simon standing there, waiting for her. But she had no such convenient excuse to prolong the moment before his departure. She met his eyes and smiled into them, wracking her mind for something useful to say, something that could relay, without chance for serious repercussion, what she was feeling. She could think of nothing, however, and sensing that if she didn’t find the courage he certainly wouldn’t, Gracey leaned in, face upturned, and kissed the magician full on the lips.
April 6th, 2010
“The expensive bottle of chianti Simon has ordered didn’t hurt.” perhaps should be “had”.
“He filled a second glass and it swallowed it as well.” appears to have one “it” too many.
I have my theories on Kit, but am desperate for further clues.