I hadn’t been back to Vegas since that girls’ weekend six months ago. One of my besties, Cally, had insisted on taking all of us, saying a vacation was long overdue. And she was right.

I had four best friends: Rach, Cally, Sisi and Terri. I met Rach back when she was still a paralegal. Turns out, we had a mutual friend, a massage therapist named Terri. When Terri began dating Rach’s co-worker, the three of us hung out more often and became close. Later, Cally and Sisi joined us; they’d been best friends since college. Sisi was a talented fashion designer, and Cally, a wealthy heiress and successful restaurateur. Sisi began dating Rach’s boss, Asher, and later married him. Long story short, we’d known each other since we were in our early twenties, and weathered our fair share of storms together. Now, the five of us were inseparable.

Shortly after my breakup, Cally decided we needed a girls’ trip. A getaway just for us. We were all overworked, plus they had kids and husbands to boot. I couldn’t imagine juggling a career and family. So, we planned a spontaneous getaway. Cally booked the flights; I drove us all to the airport.

It was supposed to be fun.

And it was fun, until I got wasted and almost convinced a guy to kill himself. Thank God, he didn’t know how to use a gun.

In the six months following our Vegas trip, my mind kept wandering back to that night on the rooftop. To the nameless, suicidal man who wanted to blow his brains out. I never figured out why he wanted to take his own life. And for some reason, that drove me nuts. I should’ve let it go; after all, he was a total stranger. But my brain decided nope, let’s keep obsessing over this guy and his motives for suicide. It was so bad I had to get an Ambien prescription to curb my insomnia.

Well…imagine my shock/surprise/horror when I bumped into him on the Strip performing street magic in front of a small, captivated crowd. I was back, this time for business…and what were the odds…?

He was a magician? I didn’t think magicians got depressed and suicidal. Their job looked fun and entertaining. They always had the biggest smiles on their faces. I was a huge fan of Pen and Teller, even met them once after a show at The Rio. Teller spoke to me in the softest lullaby voice when he signed my deck of cards. I remembered thinking it was worth the ticket price just to hear him call me ‘ma’am’. I grew up watching Doug Henning and Uri Geller on TV. What on earth made this magician pull a gun on himself?

I stayed and watched my mystery magician.

He fanned out a deck of cards and asked one of the spectators to pick a card and sign it. A young, attractive woman stepped forward. He handed her a Sharpie, and she dutifully placed her signature on the face of the card. Upon the magician’s instructions, she slipped her card back into the deck and gave it three good shuffles. Then, the guy pointed to the back pocket of her jeans and told her to check it. She did and, lo and behold, there was her card. “What in the world…” she mumbled. “I didn’t feel you go anywhere near me.” Then her face broke into the biggest smile and she began laughing so hard her eyes watered. “How did you slip that in there?”

“I didn’t. It teleported,” the guy said with a wink. He was charismatic when he smiled. Handsome, even.

The scantily-clad blonde nearly swooned. “That’s amazing.” I bet he regularly charmed the panties off every woman he met with his magic tricks and winsome smile.

The guy bowed and held out his felt top hat to collect tips. A few people dropped some dollar bills. I fished a ten-dollar bill from my purse and dropped it in too. He was about to thank me, but when he recognized who I was, his jaw nearly dropped. He nodded and waved to a few more onlookers before cleaning up his fold-out table. “Well, what are the chances?” he said. “I saw you on TV yesterday morning.”

“You did?” I asked.

“You’re a big shot producer for CBT. They were interviewing you.”

“Oh.” Heat crept into my cheeks. “I can’t believe you saw that. I’m just the associate producer.”

“You here for work or pleasure?” he asked, slipping his deck back into the cardboard case.

“Work, mainly. And pleasure, I guess,” I replied, rubbing my arms up and down. The weather had gotten significantly cooler since this afternoon, and my thin silk blouse and tweed pencil skirt did nothing to protect me against the elements. “We’re shooting here for the next week, but that doesn’t start until Monday, so I have the weekend off. Any suggestions as to what I should do?”

“It’s Vegas, baby. What can’t you do?” He shot me a devilish smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d gained weight since I last saw him, and looked a lot healthier. His skin color looked good, and his eyes were clear. I felt good knowing he seemed a lot happier.

I laughed. “I still don’t know your name.”

“And I don’t know yours. Oh wait, I do. It’s Rose Hathaway. Enchanted.” He bowed, took my hand, and kissed it. Was this even the same man I met six months ago? He was too slick, too charming, and way too hot to be that suicidal burnout I rescued last year. Clean-shaven, he looked younger and much more attractive.

“That’s not fair. Wait, don’t tell me. I know who you are!”

“You do?”

“You’re Houdini’s descendant!”

“I wish.”

“Criss Angel’s half-brother?”

“Nope.”

“You know, the first night we met, I thought you looked like a cross between Neil Patrick Harris and Henry Cavill. But now that I’m sober and look more carefully, I think you look like Cillian Murphy.”

“I look nothing like him. He has freckles and always looks really sad.”

“Okay, so you don’t have freckles, but you always look sad,” I pointed out. “What’s the matter with you? Why do you always look sad every time we meet?”

“Trust me, Rosie, I don’t do it on purpose.” He smiled. Sadly. He was probably the only person in Vegas who could pull off a perfectly depressed smile. And look good doing it.

“No one calls me Rosie,” I said. “You get to call me Ms. Hathaway, like everyone else.”

“Seriously?”

“No. Rose is fine. But never Rosie. Makes me sound like I’m eight.”

“Say, Rose,” he said, glancing down at his hat. “I just made…thirteen bucks and some change. Can I take you out for drinks?”

“You mean drink,” I said. “Thirteen bucks is probably enough to buy you a highball at Planet Hollywood.”

“Nah, they always overcharge at the hotel bars. Come on, I know a local dive that’s way cheaper.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“But you will. Think of it as my way of thanking you. For the whiskey,” he clarified.

“Fine, but only because you drank almost eighty dollars’ worth of whiskey that night.” I smirked. “You still haven’t told me your name, Mystery Man.”

“It’s Thelonious Blueridge. But you can call me Theo.”

“For real? Your parents named you Thelonious?”

Theo nodded. “They were probably high when they did it, but yeah, that’s my name. My

magician name is The Spectacular Thelonious.” Theo bowed slightly and waved his hand for dramatic effect.

“Wow. Really?” The name was so tacky I almost puked in my mouth.

“No, I don’t have a special magician name. I just go by Theo.”

“I like the name Theo. Sounds friendly. Approachable.”

“Thanks. So, let’s go?”

“You take the lead.” I thought we were going to his car, but after almost ten minutes of walking, I realized we were going to get to this bar on foot. If I’d known that, I would’ve offered to drive us over.

“So, you born and raised here?” I asked, kicking up dust as we shuffled down the side of the highway. Any other stranger and I’d have been afraid he was trying to rob me blind or rape me, but with a cute name and sad smile like Theo’s, I instinctively trusted him. Plus, we had a history, sort of. If he thanked me for saving his life by mugging me, well, let’s just say bad karma would probably kick his balls for the rest of his life. I was a firm believer of ‘what goes around, comes around’, and the golden rule. I wasn’t always a goody-two-shoes, but I usually tried to be kind to strangers. Empathy was second nature to me.

“No. I was born in Mesa, Texas. Joined the traveling circus when I was sixteen and laid down roots in Vegas when I was eighteen. I’m thirty-six now.”

He didn’t look thirty-six.

“Traveling circus?” For some reason, my mind flashed to Dumbo. Theo didn’t have oversized ears, though, but he did have the same sad smile as that elephant. The one who wanted to fly, but didn’t believe in himself. “That sounds…exciting.”

“It was…till I slept with the boss’s wife. He didn’t take too kindly to that.”

“Oh, shit. You were a royal prick, weren’t you?” I nudged Theo and he nudged me back.

“Still am. Who says I’m not taking you to the shady side of town, so I can fuck you senseless, then rob you blind?” Theo said, a dark glint in his eye.

“I can take you on, easy,” I said. “I know jiu-jitsu.”

“You’re a tough broad, aren’t you?” Theo grinned. “I think it’s hot. Your personality, I mean. Your body’s bangin’ too, Rose, but it’s your brain I find most attractive.”

“Bet you’re tired of fucking tipsy tourists,” I said. “Been a while since a woman mentally stimulated you?”

“Who says I don’t have a wife and kids, or maybe a girlfriend at home?”

“No wedding band. And you’re a selfish asshole, remember?” I was teasing, but I could see his lips firm up.

“Maybe I’m not the jewelry-wearing type,” Theo said. “And selfish assholes have kids all the time. Just ask my parents.”

“Well, in that case, you’re even more of an asshole than I thought,” I said, “if you have a girl at home and you’re taking me out for drinks.”

Theo stopped mid-step. “I don’t have a wife, kids, or a girl at home, or anywhere. I don’t do relationships. Never have, never will.”

“Never? How is that even possible?”

“I left home young. Traveled a lot with the circus. Never had a chance to go steady with anyone. Only ever slept with Kallypso because she was a contortionist and could do all this freaky shit in bed. Then, after I settled in Vegas, I fell in love with one-night stands and never stopped. Why settle down when you can try a new flavor every night of the week?”

“Wow, you sound like a douche, Theo.”

“You had a boyfriend,” Theo said. “For almost ten years if I remember correctly. What good did it do you?”

Ouch.

“We had a great, committed relationship. I don’t regret it.”

“You wasted almost ten years of your life on this guy and he didn’t even have the balls to marry you. He’s the real douche, sweetheart.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said, changing the subject. “Where is this bar, anyway?”

“Over there. Ricky’s.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ricky’s was a squat, one-story brick building with a painted black door. The metallic numbers 481 were sloppily nailed to the wood. It didn’t look very inviting, but that was probably the vibe they were going for.

We walked inside, and Theo nodded at the heavily-bearded bartender who looked like Thor’s cousin. “She’ll have a whiskey, neat. I’ll take a Pilsner.”

“I hate men who order drinks for me,” I said. “I’m a big girl, Theo. I think I can tell him what I want myself.”

Theo gestured to the bartender. “My bad. By all means.”

I looked at the bartender. “Whiskey, neat, please.”

Theo grinned. “I was right.”

Yeah, he was.

I hopped onto the cracked leather bar stool. The air reeked of sour sweat and freezing cold A/C poured from the vents. “Is this weird? Us having drinks together?” I asked, surveying the run-down dive with a cautious eye. Cleanliness was clearly not a priority here, I noted. Cobwebs draped over the rafters like leftover Halloween decorations from last year. A pile of debris lingered in the corner which no one had bothered to sweep up.

“It wasn’t weird until you made it seem weird,” Theo replied dryly. “We’re having fun, aren’t we?”

I coughed. The air was smoky. I hated how every goddamn building I walked into was always saturated with second-hand smoke. I gave the two guys smoking in the booth the evil eye. “I have a feeling by the end of the next two weeks I’ll get lung cancer from all the second-hand smoke I’m inhaling.”

“You shouldn’t joke about getting cancer. Shit’s a nasty way to go,” Theo said. “My old man had it. Smoker for twenty-five years. Finally got him in the end. Died at forty-two.”

“Sorry.” It had been an insensitive slip of the tongue. And a crass thing for a perfectly healthy thirty-two-year-old woman to say.

“Ancient history.” Theo took a pull of his Pilsner. “So, what’s new in your world? Haven’t seen you since Halloween.”

He said it so casually, you’d think we were just two acquaintances catching up over some drinks.

“Well, I’m gunning for a promotion—executive producer. Once season eight of The O’Connells airs, I’ll have a sit-down with the boss for my annual review. He’s retiring, and I want to carry on the torch. If ratings are good…fingers crossed!”

“How long have you been working for CBT?” Theo asked.

“Since I graduated Columbia,” I said. “So, going on ten years now.”

“Nice.”

“How long you been in the uh…entertainment industry?” I asked.

“Since I left home at sixteen. But I wasn’t always a magician. I’m not even a great street performer; I just know a few tricks, that’s all. I used to swallow swords and juggle watermelons for the circus.”

I burst out laughing and nearly choked on my whiskey. “No way! I can’t imagine you juggling watermelons. That sounds hilarious. I’d love to see that one day.”

“I’m a bit rusty now. Even back then, I damn near killed myself every week doing the stunts. Haven’t practiced since I was eighteen, though. Would hate to drop a melon and splatter you with its guts.”

“So, you make a living as a magician? That’s so cool. I can’t imagine how tough that must be sometimes, especially in Vegas.”

“I get by,” Theo admitted. “It’s not a glamorous living, though, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m impressed. Not many people would be willing to stick around in Vegas doing card tricks on The Strip. Takes dedication.”

“I’m hoping for a big break one day,” Theo said, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Your own show, you mean?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

An hour and lots of laughter later, we exchanged numbers and reluctantly agreed to part ways. I’d booked a few shows for the weekend and wanted to catch some shut-eye so I wouldn’t be too jet-lagged the next day. Theo walked me back to my car. “Here’s my card. Call or text me if you want to go for drinks again. I’d love to see you again before you go home.”

I pocketed the card. “Sure. This was fun.”

Theo leaned in and gave me a chaste peck on the cheek. “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will. Good night.”

“Night.”

Even though we didn’t do anything fancy, I had a lot of fun with him. Of course, it didn’t escape me that he was also the same man I’d saved from blowing his brains out six months ago. At least he seemed in much better spirits this time around. Maybe I’d given him a wake-up call, and now he realized life was a precious gift. I loved entertaining the possibility I’d turned his world upside down and changed him. I was forever trying to be a do-gooder. Sometimes, it didn’t work out so well for me, but for the most part, people were grateful for my help.

He seemed like a new man.

Happier. Lighter. Sexier. (Or was that just the booze talking?)

A man worth befriending.

Maybe even fucking, if I got enough alcohol in my system.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful if I saw Theo again. Having a magician for company would certainly make the long Vegas nights more bearable, especially for an out-of-towner. Not that I wanted to sleep with him or anything. Though if he did proposition me…I certainly wouldn’t flat out refuse him. I hadn’t gotten laid since I broke up with Jeremy, and Theo the Magic Man certainly seemed capable enough to fuck me senseless. My girlfriends back home would probably approve; they’d been trying to set me up with all sorts of guys for months now. But it was weird, right? Weird enough I bumped into him on the Strip…but to actually sleep with him? Shivers tickled my spine—something just felt off. Call it intuition.

Something lay hidden underneath all his sad smiles—something he was hiding.

I hated men with secrets.

I knew it was wise to stay away from his type.

I was also painfully aware that they invented the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’ for people like me.