“Rule number one: Magicians never lie,” Jett told the audience, opening his arms as if to show he had nothing to hide from them.

The statement, like every one of his tricks, was not the complete truth. The thought flitted through his mind as he motioned with one upturned hand to the nearby table. He allowed the object to speak for itself as he held the linked handcuffs up for the audience to see. Jett had long since practiced the smile which spoke of a secret only he knew, that reassured the viewer Jett knew what he was doing and everything would be okay.

“A pair of handcuffs, the very same ones I will be using in my next act. Pardon me, sir, would you be willing to come up here and check them out for me?” Jett called, motioning to a handsome man in the front row.

Jett held his secretive smile as he waited for the audience member to mount the stairs to the stage. The man looked around fretfully as he crossed under the hot lights of the stage, smiling as his friends cheered him on. Jett waited until he was near, holding out the handcuffs.

“Now, take a look at these. Would you say these are your normal, everyday handcuffs? Perhaps the kind you might have in a bedside table?” Jett asked, tone as if they were sharing a private joke.

A wave of laughter passed through the audience, and the man smiled, giving the cuffs a tug. “Seem like the real deal.”

Jett had intentionally chosen a man who was large and strong looking. “Here, allow me to put them on you and you can test their strength for yourself.”

The man looked wary. “If you want.”

Jett chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll take them off after you’ve tested them. I wouldn’t want to take the fun away from some lucky lady tonight.”

The crowd gave a heartier laugh and Jett winked as the man flushed. Jett took the cuffs, placing them around the man’s wrist and ratcheting them closed. His chosen guest gave the metal cuffs a few tugs, even allowing the metal to bite into his wrist as he struggled to break free. Next, he chose to wriggle his wrists and hands in an attempt to slip out of the cuffs’ hold. Jett watched in amusement, gesturing the whole way through the demonstration as if to say, If this strong man cannot break from them, how can I?

“Do they pass the test?” Jett asked.

The man grunted, holding out his bound wrists. “Those are handcuffs alright.”

Jett plucked the key from the nearby table, unlocking the cuffs and freeing the man. Jett watched him rub his wrists, pleased that his volunteer had put up a presentable fight for the audience. To everyone watching, they appeared to be normal, everyday handcuffs, meant to hold a person and keep them held until they were unlocked. The trick was to make sure the cuffs were locked in just a certain way. When they were, the cuffs could be opened just enough for his lightly lubricated wrists and hands to slip through them.

“Well thank you so much—and here I went and forgot to get your name,” Jett said mournfully.

“Ah, Jeff,” the man said, looking nervous suddenly.

Jett clasped a hand on his broad shoulder. “Well, Jeff, thank you so much for your time. Please, return to your seat and enjoy the rest of the show.”

Once Jeff returned to his seat, the lights over stage left lit up, illuminating the deadly device Jett would be using in his next trick. It began with a simple conveyer belt, upon which a box would be placed. The belt would pull the box down until it reached a large bandsaw which sliced vertically through the middle of the box. The box’s trip would not stop there, as a moment later it was carted into a clear case of flame resistant material. The clear walls allowed the audience to witness the flames of the incinerator located below the chamber blazing in a sudden blast of heat, reducing the box to ash.

To demonstrate, Jeff sent an empty wooden box along the conveyer belt, allowing the machine to do the explaining for him. Afterward, he gestured grandly along the machine, showing the space beneath the conveyer belt to be empty. The machine was pulled far enough away from the exit of the stage to conceal nothing on its side. His movements were done with practiced ease, his fingers never once grazing the mirrors below the machine, placed to conceal the false bottom in the conveyer belt and the trap door in the stage beneath it.

On cue, his assistant, Riley, strolled on the stage with an accompanied drunk hooting from the audience. Jett admitted, both openly and privately, that his assistant was a striking woman. Her auburn hair, thick and vibrant, brought out the golden glow of her skin and warmed her eyes. Although she was in her early thirties, she barely looked old enough to drink. She was as much of an attention grabber on stage as a flourish of Jett’s hand, or a flash of powder.

“And now, my delightful assistant Riley will make sure I am helpless within the box,” Jett called to the audience.

Their movements were so well practiced they could have done them in their sleep. Riley helped him out of his loose pants and fitted, long-sleeved shirt. Jett was left standing in a pair of comfortable looking shorts. Although he didn’t look quite as young as Riley, his toned, sun-kissed body drew another set of hoots from the women in the audience. Jett turned in a slow circle, showing he hid nothing on his person, standing half-naked before them.

As Riley bent to apply the cuffs, Jett continued addressing the audience, “And with the very same handcuffs my new friend Jeff inspected, Riley will bind my hands behind my back. I will enter the box and she will seal me in. From the moment the belt starts, I have precisely 21 seconds to free myself from the cuffs and the box before the saw slices me in two.”

A stagehand had already placed another wooden box on the conveyor belt. The box was identical to the first but with a false bottom, one which had been rigorously checked and tested before it was brought out for Jett to use. He allowed Riley to lead him to the box. As the box sealed around him, Jett took a soothing breath and wiggled his wrists. The soft sound of the cuffs loosening was muffled by the heavy scratching of thick rope binding the outside of the box, sealing him in tight with intricate knots for the audience to see.

In the darkness, he heard Riley addressing the crowd, building on the aura of fear and tension Jett had established. Jett twisted his wrists in a familiar pattern, the lube Riley had applied while tightening the cuffs working their magic. The cuffs were free of his wrists before she reached the middle of her sentence. He waited until she called to him, asking if he was ready, responding with a resounding affirmation. In his mind, he could picture her walking over to the button to start the conveyer belt, sending the box he was in down the line to his certain doom.

Taking a moment, he turned the small motor hidden in one corner of the box on before opening the false bottom and slipping through the opened stage door. Quickly, in the narrow space below the stage, he replaced the bottom of the box and closed the trap door. As he began to hastily shuffle in the tight space, he could hear the conveyer belt come to life. Jett was free of the stage and safely out of view by the time he heard the audience gasp. Jett smiled, thinking the false hand protruding through the seam of the box was a nice touch, one he gave Riley full credit for.

A solemn silence passed over the crowd as the audience waited with anticipation to discover if they truly had watched a magician bring about his own death. A muttering rose up, soft at first, the unease in the voices palpable. Without a warning, the spotlights had illuminated the stage swiveled to the back of the house. Jett stood in the center between the two sets of doors, the secretive smile on his face, his arms wide open in a gesture of welcome.

For a moment, silence hung over the theater. Jett savored it as much as he would savor what was to come. The lights were not bright enough to block out the looks of surprise and utter shock on the faces of those nearest to him. Disbelief mingled with unease, as a few shifted uncomfortably, knowing they had seen a trick, but their sight had told them they had witnessed true magic.

Then the applause came, a riotous tumult which assaulted Jett’s ears. The secret smile on his face turned to one of real pleasure as the lights disappeared. The entire theater went dark, with only the mandated safety runner lights illuminated on each side of the aisles. Once again, the audience muttered, wondering what would come next.

A spotlight burned, a brilliant sun on the stage, illuminating Jett once again. His smile was even wider now, pleasure sweeping through him at the surprised laughter of the crowd. In a few moments of darkness, he had shifted several dozen yards to the stage, all without breaking a sweat. The method behind the trick was one of his greatest kept secrets, one only a select few were allowed to know. Even his stagehands were kept in the dark.

“Ladies and gentleman, Jett Richards!” Riley called, her voice heavy with an excitement that infected the audience.

Jett and Riley both extended their arms, curling one to their waist as they bowed. The audience cheered and crowed, calling out their names. Jett pulled himself upright, smug in the understanding of another successful show. Magicians didn’t always survive in the limelight for more than a year or two. Jett had been nearing the cutoff point for some time, and his presence on stage was still as in demand as ever. The crowd before him would spread out like messenger birds, talking for weeks about the magic they had witnessed. It would spread across the internet, pass through social media, and inspire interest. Eventually, he would find his niche, the unexpected passion for illusion. Afterward, it required only an audience before him to find the next step to his long-term success.

Magic tricks hadn’t been his lifelong dream but had become his passion after he had tried his first card trick. It had been the simplest trick, a slight of hand which flipped the chosen card face-up in a deck of facedown cards, and he was sold. From the moment he saw the look of surprise and wonder on people’s faces, Jett had been hooked. There was a power in startling someone, in taking the expected and flipping it on its head with a few simple tricks. He loved the laughter and joy it brought. He also enjoyed the boost the attention gave his ego.

After their microphones turned off, Riley turned and winked cheekily at him. “They never fail to fall for it, huh?”

“Rule number two: A magician never lies, but they do mislead,” Jett reminded her with a chuckle, the smile on his face faltering when he spotted two uniformed police officers standing in the wings of the stage, staring right at him.