Page 64 of Home to the Hollow

Let the show begin.

Wishes

The curtain rises on the stage right after my drink arrives, and I watch with morbid fascination. Seer still hasn’t told me what kind of club this is, though I find it much more obvious why we’re here. She wanted to meet up with old friends in the place they’re all comfortable in.

I’m not sure why she and I never visited anything like this all those years, and the thought Seer has held parts of herself back pinches. I’ve shared some of the deepest, darkest events in my life with her, and now I wonder if that’s been reciprocated or if our instant connection simply fooled me. A vaguely unsettled feeling sinks into my gut and I sip the bourbon to cover my discomfort.

“This should be good,” Julia murmurs to Seer. “I heard through the grapevine the entertainment was a previously lost one who just blew through town. Likes to perform in anonymity.”

Seer claps her hands, and the guys laugh. “Class! Overseas or homegrown? Number?”

Tharin stops tearing into the chicken wings like a wildebeest to answer her with a sauce-covered grin. “Overseas. No number. His family kept it hidden, but benefited during their lives.”

What an odd way to say that.

I mean, lots of parents live off their talented offspring through child acting or Disney channel deals—not that it makes it right. I’m one hundred percent Team #freeBritney, but Tharin didn’t make it sound like this person was famous or anything. In fact, Julia said ‘lost one’ as if that meant something they all understood. I rub my temples, trying to decide if getting hammered might make the ugliness earlier in the evening and the encroaching fear of losing my only friend easier to swallow.

Why the fuck not?

I haven't been able to let go since I moved back to the States. The closest I’ve come is with the boys, and they’re not here. I wish they were, honestly, and that’s scary, too. My life is a writhing snake pit of things that might destroy me at the moment, and I’m no closer to finding out why I got the kiss off from the FBI, either. One might say I’m a veritable cornucopia of failure, and they’d be right.

I slam the rest of my drink back, catching the server’s eye to hold up two fingers. She needs to make it a double this time. “Is it starting or what?”

Zasha narrows his eyes at me. “It is, love. Just wait. Some people like to make an entrance.”

“I wouldn’t know anyone like that,” I mutter, leaning back against the plush cushions of the booth as I nibble on some weird fried concoction.

Seer gives me a playful glare. “Careful, Peanut, your grumpy side is showing.”

Rolling my eyes, I continue nibbling at the array of snacks. When the overhead lights flash three times, then go dark, I blink. What in the merry fuck is this? My eyes adjust to the dark, and I look around to see various tables of people whispering to each other. A crack of lightning illuminates the stage and smoke fills the space. Damn, these people have some good special effects for a small club. When it clears, one of the hottest dudes I’ve ever seen in my entire life steps out of it like he just... appeared.

Are we here for a magic show?

The olive-skinned performer flashes impossibly white teeth, his expression looking more hungry than welcoming. Raising his hands as if encouraging the crowd to applaud, the good-looking magician walks—no, struts—across the stage. His dark eyes search the crowd as they clap and hoot, a smirk gracing his full lips. When he lowers his arms, he unbuttons the cuffs on his sleeves, rolling the obsidian dress shirt up to his elbows. I can almost hear the sighs from the audience, and his expression only grows more devilish.

Okay, Edgar knows he’s hot, but this guy?

He basks in the adoration of men and women alike as he peacocks around the proscenium. Ugh. I could never deal with an ego this big—it’d knock us all off the bed and mine’s pretty damned huge. Why does everyone think megalomaniacs are so attractive?

“See something you like, Peanut?” Seer whispers in a not very subtle voice.

Tharin and Zasha snort, and I turn to shoot a sneer their way. Men are nothing if not predictable, even ones traveling with a mystery woman I just met. “Definitely not, Seer. He’s lucky he’s not sprouting tail feathers or falling in love with his image in a martini glass. Gross.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but a poof of smoke explodes on the stage and the sexy dude disappears again. When he reappears, his hair is pulled into a loose topknot instead of falling loosely over his shoulder. His grin is even more self-satisfied, and for the first time, he speaks.

“Good evening, my illustrious friends! The Theopoulous family graciously ceded one of their stages tonight to allow me to indulge my penchant for theatrics while in town. I am honored to be granted the opportunity.” Mysterious dude smiles again, then continues. “My name is Dhameer Mirza Al Sharqi and I will grant your deepest desires.”

I snort. No, I snort hard enough for it to hurt. Could this guy be any more into himself? He should just make out with his hand on stage and get it over with it.

“Shhh!” Julia admonishes, her expression disapproving. “It’s impolite to scoff at royalty.”

“Uh. Royalty?” I whisper.

“There! You! The girl who cannot be arsed to pay attention to my magnificent show. You will be the first participant,” the asshole booms into the audience.

Fuck. Me.

I look to my friend for help and she looks away while her companions snicker like elementary school kids. “A little help, guys?”

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