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Although maybe the real answer is that Mattie wasn’t as great as I always wanted to believe. Because Odai…
Odai is everything I would ever wish for, and being with him makes me feel a little bit, finally, more like the real me I’ve been chasing.
Odai
It is Thursday evening now, the first night of the week when Jeffrey performs as Mattie for midnight tours. I watch like I did on Sunday. I banter again too, since he seemed to enjoy it then, and we play off each other well. It is strange, witnessing the retelling of events I know the truth of. How Jeffrey tells it is not wholly untrue. It is mostly quite factual—and very entertaining. His choice in persona as Mattie may not be how she truly was, but all for the better, for like this, he is still Jeffrey in my eyes.
And Jeffrey has yet to discover a reason to betray me, to fear me, as all my other masters and mistresses eventually did.
“What’s under the skirt, huh?” a man calls during the final tour of the night, but without the playfulness of others. Instead, there is a bite to his tone, a disgust that changes the otherwise jovial atmosphere to something rancid.
“A lady never tells!” Jeffrey calls back.
“You can bet I’d never go lookin’.”
One of the man’s companions smacks his shoulder with a chuckle, while another at least looks embarrassed by their friend calling attention to them in such an unsavory way.
It is Jeffrey’s embarrassment that bothers me. He doesn’t show it. Doesn’t lose a step, other than the briefest of sharp intakes of breaths to steel himself. It happens, he warned me. But he will not break character until the tour is done.
The man does not stop with his audible taunts, however feigning to keep them under his breath. I do not need to see Jeffrey’s mask break to feel it, to feel the way those jeers make him feel small and want to become smaller, to hide. Like he so often hides in clothing that drowns him. I feel through the connection of Jeffrey bearing my amulet that this lone cruel man is ruining an otherwise pleasant evening, not only for Jeffrey but the other patrons.
Something must be done.
“Excuse me.” I stop the man as the tour continues around one of the many bends in the tunnels. His friends do not notice. Cas moves past us, giving me a look that says—however I choose to handle the man, she approves.
“Yeah? What do you want?” the man demands of me.
Jeffrey wished that I never lie to him, but he did not wish that I never lie to others.
“I am on the staff here,” I say, “and we select a random winner each tour for their chance at a special prize.”
“Like a cash prize?” The man follows me without question, as I begin to lure him the way we came from.
I take a turn we did not go down before. Where there would usually be a dead end, before the man notices, the stones part for us like an illusion bending, creating a brand-new pathway out of the underground.
We wouldn’t want anyone finding him later on tour grounds.
“Perhaps,” I say. “It is a bit of a game of chance. But then, I would argue there is no chance in life, and we are all due the cards we are dealt.”
“Wow.” The man laughs, but he is still following, expectant of his prize. “This place is lame. But better than going home empty-handed, I guess. Thought your fairy princess back there was going to make my night until that leg was attached to a dude. Ever think of putting the real thing in a dress sometime? The fake-out’s funny but, like, I’d rather have something real to look at, ya know?”
I summon the man’s phone. Where it would have been in his pocket, it is now in my hand. His friends have noticed him missing and texted him.
dude where R U?
I message back.
too lame so i split
u dick! u owe me for the ticket!
I don’t respond this time but send the phone back to his pocket.
He does not feel it nor notice.
“Hey, if this is just some other fake-out or ends up being some stupid gold doubloons that are really chocolate or some shit, I’m going back—”
“I have a riddle for you, Mr. Kenzing. The answer is your prize.”
