Page 27 of East

“But you’ve turned your act around?”

“I’ve tried to. I still have quite a bit of debt, but I’m managing it.”

“All while trying to get this show off the ground.” She taps at her chin. “Valiant of you.”

“Either valiant or insane.”

She grins. “Who’s to say those aren’t one and the same?” She removes her hand from my thigh, picks her champagne flute back up, and takes another sip. “I found your show very impressive, Aus. A little unpolished but impressive nonetheless. I’d like to act as an angel investor for you.”

My heart skips a beat. This could change the course of my entire career, my entire life. “Would you really?”

“Indeed.” Another sip of champagne.

“I can’t thank you enough, Rouge. My own parents didn’t even believe in me.”

She pouts her lips. “Your parents?”

I chuckle. “They wanted me to go into law. They were both lawyers. Set up rival firms after their divorce.”

“I’m sorry to hear your parents separated.”

“I barely remember it. I was only four. I had a baby sister who was stillborn. The tragedy exposed a huge riff between the two of them.”

She blinks several times. “Heavens. My condolences.”

“It was years ago. Like I said, I barely remember.”

“That’s a relief.” She places her champagne flute down and returns her hand to my thigh, squeezing gently. “I do have some…notes.”

“Notes?”

“Ways you can improve your performance.”

“I’m all ears.” I lean in, deepen my voice. “I want to do whatever I need to make this partnership between the two of us work.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Music to my ears.” She tightens her grip on my thigh. “My biggest suggestion is for the house act.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “The house act? But that’s my best trick.”

“It is. But even the best things can be improved.” She sears her gaze into mine. “I don’t like the reveal at the end. That the volunteer survives. I think you should make them disappear.”

“How do I reveal that?”

“Lift the house. Look inside the tent. No one is there. No crushed person. They’ve simply vanished.”

“But I already have disappearing acts in my⁠—”

She places a finger against my lips. “I’m speaking. And yes, you have disappearing acts. But the person or object you made disappear always…reappears.” She frowns. “The stakes are too low. Theater is about illusion. You want to shock, to amaze, to inspire awe.”

“But how would I go about⁠—”

“You’ll figure it out. I can help you. I imagine the secret in your house act lies somewhere in the turntable you use, doesn’t it?”

I cock my head. “Like I said, a magician never⁠—”

“Please spare me the platitude.” Her face darkens. “You only use the turntable in one act. You don’t use it, for example, when you saw the lady in half, even though seeing that trick from all angles would also be thrilling. I enjoyed the trick, but the secret was easy to see.”

Damn. She saw right through me. And it took me years to hone that trick.