Levitating Las Vegas(56)
Author: Jennifer Echols

She poked him in the chest.

Her dad lifted one foot and spun his arms in the air. He looked like he was fighting to keep his balance. As if. The crowd gasped and a few women screamed. Holly waited. Her dad set his foot back down and returned to his former meditative state. The crowd hushed itself.

She shoved him.

He reeled backward and, for effect, threw himself off the back of the tiny platform. Women shrieked. Men groaned. He flailed his arms in the air and miraculously managed to catch the edge of the platform with one hand. Surprise! Holly was tempted to tell the horrified crowd the end of this story to put them out of their misery.

She peeled his pinkie off the platform, then his ring finger. He was holding on with his middle finger and his pointer. She wrapped these two fingers in a sparkling sensation to let him know he’d better get his juices flowing and do something about this situation. She braced for his retaliation, his kick to her gut that would send her flying against the outside wall of the casino, lawn chair and lemonade and all.

She was counterattacked the next second, but not by her dad. Her mom finally saw her and stomped around the far side of the pole, all the way up to the fence. “Holly Ann Stuckenschneider, you stop that this instant!” she cried.

“What for?” Holly casually lowered the lemonade to sip level. “He’s a magician. Let’s see him get himself out of this one.” She used her power to place the straw between her lips.

Her mom leaped over the fence in her high heels and grabbed Holly’s shoulders. She hissed in Holly’s ear, “Female levitators’ powers are much stronger than men’s. All levitators lose power as they get older. You’ll kill him!”

Her dad let go.

Elijah drove Shane’s Pontiac toward UNLV, his confusion increasing the farther he got from Holly. Furious as he was with her, he was left wanting desperately to get near her again, and—oh—also fearing death when she squashed his throat like a bug.

And on top of all this, he had to drive? He’d spent a good portion of his time in the last four years on this campus, yet he’d never driven, never parked. Even on a summer morning, he knew Shane’s grad student parking sticker wouldn’t get him anywhere near the fine arts building. Fuck this. He pulled into the space reserved for the dean of fine arts. If the car got towed, Shane deserved it.

After staring at the glove compartment for a moment, Elijah grabbed the Glock. He didn’t load it. But if Shane didn’t have a mind-reading ability, he wouldn’t know whether the gun was loaded. One way or the other, Elijah would have his answer.

The fine arts building was quiet and hollow with most students gone for the summer. An office provided the gentle voices of secretaries, but Elijah preferred not to announce his presence. Outside the office door, a bulletin board listed practice room reservations. He found “Tuesday, 11 a.m., Sligh, S” and hurried in search of the room, watching the numbers on the plaques beside the doors.

In a desolate corner of the building he found it. A tangle of electric guitar music wafted into the hall through the half-closed door. Elijah had thought Holly’s plan to interrupt her dad’s act was asking for trouble, but she was right about the element of surprise. Elijah pointed his gun in front of him. Took one last deep breath. Kicked the door open.

Shane sat in the tiny windowless room with four tween girls, two on each side of him. All of them held electric guitars in their laps with small amps at their feet. Shane stared up at Elijah with wide eyes, and two of the girls let out squeals.

Elijah blocked out their fright. He concentrated on Shane, examined Shane’s mind for any inkling that he knew about Elijah’s power. But Shane’s thoughts focused on the four girls. He needed to calm them and simultaneously get Elijah away from them.

Without taking his eyes off Elijah, Shane said, “Ladies, this is my friend Mr. Brown, who is an expert in drama.”

“Oh!” The girls cooed and sighed their relief and mentally compared who was more dreamy: Mr. Brown the drama instructor or Mr. Sligh the music instructor.

“I need to talk to Mr. Brown alone for just a moment,” Shane said, standing up and placing his guitar on its stand, watching Elijah all the while. “Practice that last riff, and I’ll be right back.” He walked past Elijah and out the door.

Elijah followed Shane down the hall, farther into the labyrinthine building. Elijah took a quick glance behind them to make sure the corridor was empty. As Shane drew even with the entrance to another hall, Elijah grabbed him and forced him around the corner. Backing him against the cement-block wall, he pressed his forearm over Shane’s throat and the gun to Shane’s forehead.

Shane inhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re welcome for the gun.”

“Good point,” Elijah growled. “Why did you let a mentally ill person borrow your gun and your car to kidnap a girl and drive to Colorado?”

“Because you asked me,” Shane said carefully. Elijah searched Shane’s mind, but he couldn’t find any incriminating evidence. Shane was thinking that he did not want to get shot, but better him than the four tween girls back in the practice room.

“Doesn’t Holly have the same disease as you?” Shane asked. “Isn’t she on the same drug? I figured if it made sense to you, it probably made sense to her.”

“You know I’m on medication because I’m crazy,” Elijah insisted. “You know my medication has run out. Yet you allow me to borrow your car and your gun just because I ask politely? What kind of idiot does that? One who’s in cahoots with the casino.”

“Ca— What?” Shane felt around for something to say and hit on this: “One who has faith in his best friend. One who’s always known something was wrong with his friend, and someday his friend would find a way to make it right. Get the f**k off me! I am just a f**king nice person, okay?”

“I’m not buying it.” Elijah pressed his arm harder across Shane’s throat. “Didn’t you find my requests a little strange?”

Shane squirmed under the pressure and cleared his throat. “My dad is a Frank Sinatra impersonator. You don’t scratch the surface of strange.”

Elijah looked deep into Shane’s eyes, trying in vain to read beyond Shane’s superficial thoughts. “Who are you?” Elijah asked.

Shane met Elijah’s steady gaze. “The best friend you will ever have. But when you ask me to help you blow up the Stratosphere you are shit out of luck, if this is the thanks I get.” He coughed. “One of my students is going to wander back here and freak out and tell her mom, and I’ll never teach another lesson. Let’s talk about this later.”