Chapter Eight ~ Slade

"You were amazing!" Mary said on the way home.

Charlie smiled weakly. She felt drained, as after a particularly tricky bank vault, but mixed with the tiredness was a bubbly, tumultuous elation. She could do it. She could perform on stage, in front of hundreds of people. They all liked it. They all clapped.

Then she remembered Aaron, and her jubilant bubble deflated. No, she couldn't. What if some journalist ever wrote about her future magic tricks with metal. Aaron would know. He would come after her. She had to be invisible to the press, and performers never were. She would also never be satisfied by being simply decorative, even as Slade's assistant. He was awesome, but she needed to exercise her magic regularly. She couldn't play a pretty doll forever. And Slade might not want her anyway. He didn't accompany them home.

"Does Slade have anyone?" she asked Mary. "A girl? I thought he would take us home."

"No." Mary shook her head. "He has to make sure everything is in order at the theatre before he leaves, count the cash, check all the rooms. And he had to perform tonight too, so he has to put all his props into their correct places in his chest. He always does that after a show. I think it would take him at least another hour before he could lock up the theatre."

"Oh," Charlie said. She didn't know what Mary saw in her face, but a sly twinkle appeared in her friend's eyes.

"Slade has always been a charmer," Mary said. "You'll see him tomorrow, dear. I think he liked you too. I invited both him and George for dinner."

"Fine," Charlie said and refused to look into Mary's eyes again.

The next day passed uneventfully. Charlie didn't even fall asleep after lunch; obviously she was recovering from her ordeal on the dirigible. She helped Mary with the dinner preparations, peeled potatoes, whipped the batter for the charlotte, but inside her, something shriveled, as the hours went by. She felt as if a dark cloud was gathering over her head and she didn't understand her gray moods. Was it because of Slade? It couldn't be the weather, because it was sunny outside.

Only when the men arrived she recovered her equilibrium somewhat. She liked George, tall and very neat, with a long earnest face. He devoured Mary with his eyes, and Charlie liked it about him. Mary deserved the best.

Slade joked and told outrageous theatrical stories, both from before his injury, during his performing days, and after, when he managed the theatre.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" he asked at last. "Are you feeling down? Worried about something? Have I lost my storytelling knack?"

"No. It was funny. I just... I don't know. Seriously, how did I do yesterday?"

As always, as soon as the talk touched on his profession, he turned thoughtful. "You did very well. For your first time on stage, you actually did marvelously. Have you been giving thoughts to a theatrical career?"

"I would love to but I can't, Slade. What if I did too good a job? Newspapers might publish something about me, and then my stepfather would find out. I can't go on stage. I must disappear."

"Ah. So that's what's been eating at you." He patted her hand soothingly.

Charlie sighed and made herself smile, determined to conquer her doldrums. There were no reasons for them. Slade was being as attentive as she could wish. He didn't remove his big hand from hers. His fingers caressed her skin lightly, causing tiny butterflies to dance up and down her spine and inside her stomach. When he suddenly flipped his hand, and there was a red carnation sitting in his palm, Charlie gasped.

"Look what I found," Slade murmured. "A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady."

Charlie picked up the small bloom, and her spirits lifted. "Thank you," she breathed.

"Why don't we go for a walk, Charlie?" Slade asked.

"It's dark outside and cold," she objected automatically, before she thought better of it. Gosh, she was such an idiot. She wanted to go out with Slade. Why had she uttered such nonsense? Slade would withdraw his offer.

To her immense relief, he didn't. "Well, we'll put on our coats and hold hands and be warm," he said with a chuckle. "I think Mary and George want to be alone for a while."

Nobody refuted his claim. In fact, Mary and George looked grateful.

"Right." Charlie jumped up from her seat at the table. "Let me get my coat."

They strolled along the streets, among many other couples, the air cold and clear around them. Charlie's melancholy had finally left her, and she was full to the brim with anticipation. She had never walked with a handsome young man before. Would he kiss her? She hoped so.

"Do you want to go to the movies?" Slade asked.

Charlie shook her head.

"Then I know where to take you. To the park. I want to show you the Chinese pavilion."

"What is that?"

"A Chinese troupe performed there in the summer, and there was an art exhibit, with the silk painted screens, but now it's all gone. Just a big empty barn, which looks very smart and natty from the outside."

"Yes," Charlie agreed.

"Tell me a little about yourself, Charlie. Who is your stepfather?"

Charlie took a deep breath and started talking. By the time she finished the story of her escape, they reached the park at the edge of the city and stepped from the electrical lights of the street into the darkness under the trees. The fallen leaves rustled under their feet, as they walked for a few moments in silence.

"What a jerk," Slade said at last. "You poor girl. I understand now why you're afraid of him. We should do something about him. Here it is."

"What? Oh!" Charlie forgot about Aaron. They ducked out of the tree-shadowed path into a moonlit clearing, and the pavilion rose in front of them, its red tiled roofs curling in the Asian fashion. Two statues of sitting Buddha, both taller than Slade and three times as wide, guarded the entrance door. They hadn't met anyone on the way, although faint footsteps sounded behind them periodically.

"Not many people come to the park this late in the year," said Slade, "but it's packed in the summer. There is a pond behind the pavilion. You can rent a boat during the summer, but it's too cold now. They will have skates for rent soon."

"The pond freezes in winter?"

"Yes."

"This pavilion is pretty. Can we go inside for a spell? I'm freezing."

"Of course; it's not locked." He opened the door and pushed Charlie through into the big echoing cavern of the pavilion. "I have to do something to warm you up," he whispered into her ear and turned her around to face him.

The moon peeking through the tall narrow windows made the long large room of the pavilion look striped like a zebra; the silver streaks of moonlight interspaced with the dark unlit bands of the floor. They stood in one of the illuminated patches, and Slade's eyes glinted mysteriously above her. He was a big man, and the top of her head only came level to his chin. She had to tilt her head to look up at him.

Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. Charlie shut her eyes and let herself feel without thinking. The experience was strange and wet but so nice, she never wanted it to end. Even when his tongue sneaked its way past her lips, she wanted the kiss to continue forever. She felt drunk with sensations everywhere in her tingling body.

Slade finally lifted his head. "Delicious," he murmured. "Oh, Charlie, you're driving me crazy."

His big hand caressed her cheek; his clever fingers traced her lips. They felt swollen. Charlie shivered, even though she was no longer cold. "It's a good thing, right?" Her hands clutched at the lapels of his jacket. Slade laughed, and she felt his chest vibrating through her fingertips.

"You know," he said. "We should do something about your rotten stepdad, because I really want you to come with me on tour. You could do great magic, and we'll be able to get top billing with your unique tricks. What do you think?"

"I would love to, but what can you do about him?"

"I don't know yet. I've been thinking about the tricks. Could you pull metal to you from a distance?" He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Darn, you're so kissable." He leaned back to her. "Just a bit more, and then, we'll talk shop."

This time, Charlie kissed him back and played with her own tongue. He seemed to like it because he groaned, and his arms tightened around her. One of them stole lower, cupping her buttock, and she almost jumped. She felt it even through her multiple layers of clothing. The clothing were certainly in the way. She wanted to get rid of them. She wanted to plaster her body all along his, to become one. Daring greatly, she plunged one of her hands into his thick hair and grasped a handful. He moaned.

It took a while before they finally separated. "We'll find a better place and time for this, Charlie," Slade vowed. "Let's go to my house." He pulled at her hand

"I don't think we should," Charlie panted, resisting his pull, her mind rushing back after its brief, desire-clouded hiatus. "I don't think Mary would approve." She tugged her hand away and stepped back. Out of the circle of his arms, she was cold again.

Slade guffawed. "You prudish? What do you think she's doing with George? Playing checkers?"

"She was married. I was not," Charlie said. "I shouldn't be doing these things until..."

"Until you're married," Slade finished her sentence. He seemed to be waking up from his amorous haze. "Yeah, you're probably right. Sorry, I got carried away. You really are delicious." He grinned disarmingly. "We can kiss in the meantime, can't we?"

Charlie licked her lips, considered his question, and nodded. "Later. Let's try magic," she murmured.

"Fine." He marched to the other wall of the pavilion. "I have this old pocket watch," he said, fishing something out of his pocket. "It doesn't work anymore." He spun to face her, when a shadow slipped behind his back. Something hard met something soft with a muffled thwack, and Slade dropped where he stood with an aborted gasp.

"Hello, daughter," Aaron grated and stepped into a moonlit stripe.

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