Synopsis
Crystal's husband is a cop; his gambling is out of control and he's getting abusive. Meeting a sexy and ambitious young guy who wants to be a famous escape artist gets her some hot sex and an idea. Her neighbor, Ron, is also a cop. He doesn't like her husband but he's definitely interested in her. All she needs is a plan that lets her enjoy them both and also make her own great escape.
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
"Michael is a poor magician," Jeannie explained.
"I am an escape artist," he corrected.
"Whatever."
"And poor as in impoverished, not as in bad."
Jeannie laughed. "He's a good, but poor escape artist magician type. He says he needs to establish himself."
"Is it hard to establish yourself?"
Michael was tall, with a twisted, ironic smile that made him look more interesting than handsome. "Not if you are good at it, which I am. Unfortunately, it takes money to let the world know you are good."
She laughed at that. "What doesn't take money? In my case, if I had money, divorcing Paul would be easy."
"Really?"
"With a little money, I could move out into my own place. I'd keep him at a distance, hire a good lawyer and be set up." Without money, she had fewer options. And even if she won a decent settlement, Paul didn't make enough to support two households. So even if he was actually paying alimony she'd need a stupid job, and that he'd pay her wasn't at all certain. "I don't have a lot of job skills," she told him. "My work experience is limited to being a hostess or waitress."
"I understand," he said.
"But for you, it's different. How would having money show the world what you can do?" she asked.
"I'd use it to make a splash. To break into the big time, you need a major trick-one that will look good on television. Then you need to film it. It doesn't have to be fancy, but the trick has to be elegant."
She giggled. "Which suggests a joke: Why is an escape artist like a hooker?" He shrugged. "They both need a good trick."
He had laughed. That made her like him more, seeing that he could laugh at himself. His smile could be sexy as well as ironic. It was a mobile face. She liked him, but he was slippery, elusive. He'd be hard to get to know, and harder to trust.
They walked out on the balcony and Michael lit a joint, took a drag and handed it to her. "I've designed one," he said as she took a hit, inhaling the smoke. He laughed again. "A trick, I mean. I can't afford to build it, but I know that it would definitely do what I want."
"Not that I can invest, but how much would you need?"
He chewed on the idea. "I've cost it out at four grand. With five grand I could make it spectacular. And then there is promotion, advertising. So I'd prefer to have six grand. I could do it for less, but you only get one shot to break in and I'm not going with less than that."
"So this is a big deal for you?"
He nodded. "Very. It's my future."
"Are you're saving up?"
He laughed again. "I earn so little doing the kid's shows and busking that I barely have enough to live on. There is nothing to save." He grimaced. "I can't this go on much longer."
Suddenly a memory popped into her head. A fantasy, really, but one that might be developed into something like a plan.
