Verity was initially nervous about the evening she had been hired for, but once the idea had occurred to her, it was a matter of persuading her former assistants that an evening waitressing, with the prospect of taking part in their favourite illusions, would be fun and help out a good cause. She managed to get six; of the other two, one was pregnant and the other was out of the country.
The night club was buzzing with female voices at about nine o'clock, when the event was due to start. The DJ quietened the music on cue and Verity strode onto the cordoned off dance floor.
“Welcome to this charity evening. My name is Verity and I shall be your host, auctioneer and main act tonight. This is a night to have fun and give generously. You will find some games of chance in the back room and the venue have offered to donate half the profits from the bar too, so feel free to drink as much as you can handle.
“Further good news is that there are no men here, so feel free to let your hair down as far as you like.
“As I said I shall hosting this event and throughout the evening there will be some items auctioned. I also mentioned that I shall be the main act. I have a magic act, but tonight I shall be selecting people from the audience to take part in an assortment of illusions; if someone is in a costume that inspires me, they are more likely to be invited to take part. Each volunteer I use will see me donate a substantial sum, but I know that there are some people who would rather not take part; they won't need to, because for a reasonable donation one of the waitresses will take their place. And finally, for an additional donation I am willing to do requests.
“The first act will be about half an hour, to give you time to see what's happening and get yourselves something to drink. I'll see you then.”
Verity left the stage area. She did the rounds of her ex-assistants, assuring them that they would get paid for waitressing and if they got volunteered, they would also get paid for assisting. She also told them that they would get to be in the magic, even if they did not get picked to replace someone who might not want to be a victim of magic, because their would be a climactic illusion where she would use anyone left and any additional volunteers.
Each waitress-assistant told Verity that they would be donating the waitressing portion of their pay to the charity, except for Chloe; she had been an assistant for no more than six months; she had enjoyed the magic, but struggled with the competing demands of remaining beautiful, fit and flexible, and the travelling and living out of a suitcase. Chloe was glad to be making three days wages of her dead-end job in this one evening.
The magician had about ten minutes to kill before she would start checking out the ladies, to decide which one she would pick and prepare the magical experience that she would be offered. She was approached by a plump woman garbed as a fortune teller.
“I don't usually talk to strangers,” she began, “but you seemed so nice when you announced the beginning of the event, that I thought I would give it a go.”
Verity gave an encouraging smile and took in the woman's colourful voluminous skirt, the white gypsy top and multi-coloured shawl, wrists that rattled with bangles and a headscarf with a row of bronze disks dangling across her forehead.
“I don't know why I get invited to these things, but at least twice a year I get an invite to attend one of these dos. I don't know why I bother coming. I never seem to know anyone, so I don't talk to people and they don't talk to me. Then I get depressed and probably cost the charity more at the buffet table than I donate. And in the morning I regret it; the overeating and the not talking to people.”
The woman stopped talking suddenly, as if all the courage it had taken to talk to Verity had evaporated.
“I think I understand, but I'm not sure how I can help.”
The woman showed signs that she was relieved that Verity had not ignored her outburst. “I don't know, but I thought, maybe, if I could be a volunteer for something not too drastic, it might give people a reason to talk to me; I'm alright once the ice is broken. It might save the charity the price of several plates of food and me the regret, tomorrow, of a wasted evening.”
Verity looked her up and down; she was obviously too big to easily fit into any of the cabinets she had with her. Verity had a thought, but was struggling to work out how she was going to execute it, then inspiration struck. “If you are by the stage in fifteen minutes, think I can help out, and it'll result in you being able to help out too; you'll probably end up making more than the cost of the entire buffet and missing the chance to overdo it on the full plate front too. I'm sorry to cut and run, but I've got a bit to arrange in the next quarter hour.”
She heard the woman thank her retreating back.
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The next ten minutes saw Verity behind the scenes frantically setting things up. This involved more than the anticipated rolling the selected illusion to the corner of the dance floor where the magic was to take place, but added the preparation of somewhere for the consequences of the magic to play out.
At the predicted time, nine-thirty, Verity returned to the dance floor, where she auctioned a pair of pearl earrings for about ten times what they would have cost in a high-end jewellers. She was glad to spot the gypsy costumed woman standing close to the velvet ropes that kept the area free of dancers.
“And now for my first piece of magic and, with luck, something to keep you entertained and donating between the rounds of auctioning and magical set-pieces.” She took a couple of steps towards the volunteer. “How about you? Would you mind helping out with a magical demonstration?”
The woman clanged her bracelets against her chest, in evident surprise at being invited to take part. A lot of the audience thought that she had been picked at random, but Verity guessed that she had not expected to called to take part and that the magician had used the excuse of preparation to get away from her.
Seeing the uncertainty in the woman's eyes, Verity went to the cordon and unhooked the rope from the stand to allow her to come through. The woman stepped through the gap that the magician had made and waited for her to hook the rope back in place and be guided to the centre of the area.
“I know you volunteered, but I never caught your name.”
“I'm sorry, but like I said, I'm not very good at talking to people,” then light dawned. “Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Charity ...” She left a gap to see if Verity wanted the rest of her name.
“So, why did you volunteer?”
“I thought that it might be something that might get people wanting to talk to me. To ask how it was done,” she caught Verity's expression darkening, “Or maybe how it felt.” Verity's expression lightened again. “I hope it won't hurt, whatever it is.”
“The good news is that you'll have people donating to the charity to talk to you once I'm done with you. And the even better news is that it isn't anything to loose your head about. I was thinking that I might cut your head off with the guillotine and then have one of the waitresses carry it, you, around so that you would get to meet people.” Charity looked nervous at the prospect. “But I thought that would have been a waste of the waitress' time and uncomfortable for you, because the stock in the guillotine is not set up for someone of your generous proportions.
“I'll need you to go and get a chair to sit on, while I bring on the equipment; I'm sure someone will pass you one.”
Verity went to the corner of the floor where the apparatus waited, while Charity went towards an edge of the area, where there was some movement that indicated a chair was being brought. A taller woman passed a chair over the rope. “You're being very brave, volunteering to go first,” she whispered, drawing agreeing noises from the women that were near enough to hear.
While she carried the chair back to where she had talked to the magician, Charity considered the comment. Had she been foolhardy to volunteer?
“Face the chair forward and sit on it, please. Good! Now, you are dressed as a gypsy fortune teller, right?”
“I guess that's the kind of vibe I was going for,” Charity replied. “I don't think I was actually going for fortune teller, but gypsy is about right.”
She seemed a little distracted by the sound of casters rolling across the floor behind her. She was caught between the desire to look round to see what equipment was being rolled up behind her and the desire to be a good volunteer, doing what she was told.
“Well, to me you look a gypsy fortune teller, which is what matters at the moment. And every gypsy fortune teller needs a proper crystal ball, right?”
“You're right! Why didn't I think of that? A crystal ball would make a great prop and it might get people to talk to me and asking me to read their fortunes.”
“Well, I have a crystal ball for you. I shall be placing it on your lap, so be ready to hold it, because these things are expensive.” Verity came to where Charity could see her carrying something heavy covered in velvet. This thing she placed gently on Charity's lap and once the volunteer had hold of it, she pulled the velvet cover away. “Of course, it would not be much of a magic trick to give you a crystal ball and tell you to get out there and tell fortunes.”
Mutterings from the audience agreed. They could see the wide board on splayed legs that Verity had brought up behind the gypsy-styled volunteer.
“So, don't worry about getting fingerprints on the ball; they're part of being able to read the future and I can polish the ball when you are finished with it. So hold the ball firmly and lift your head and face forward and we can get to the proper magical part of this.”
Charity took a firmer grip on the heavy glass sphere. She sat up straighter, which put her shoulders a few millimetres below the board and her chin a few millimetres above. Verity wheeled the board forward so that a U-shaped cut-out, that some had spotted, surrounded Charity's neck and before Charity could take any counter action reached round her head and slotted in a piece that made a loud click as it became flush with the front edge of the board; leaving Charity with her neck through a hole that was too small for her to pull her head through.
“Hey, what's the big idea?” complained the gypsy volunteer.
“Well, the truth is, I plan to cut your head off.” the volunteer looked a bit queasy at the idea. “But the important thing from your point of view is that you will survive and probably enjoy the experience.”
“Why am I sceptical about this?”
“The simple answer is that you don't really believe in magic or any of the mysterious stuff in life like 'a stranger is just a friend you have not met yet.' You don't even believe in the crystal ball.
“Before, I cut your head off there are a couple of small miracles to entertain the audience.”
“Are you sure you aren't trying to mess with my head, so that I eventually would rather you remove my head than keep building the suspense?”
“While messing with your head is exactly what I intend; it's not so you agree to letting me do it, because you've as good as agreed to let me decapitate you by still being here and not trying to get away. The purpose of doing a few minor effects is to build up the audience a bit more than they already are; so that if, by some mischance, I actually kill you there will be plenty of witnesses, to say you actually allowed me to try it; that would surely downgrade the charge from murder to manslaughter.”
“You're not doing a lot for my confidence in you, you know?”
“I also note that you are still sitting there. Let's start with something that I hope will make your thinking clearer.”
“And what would that be?” Charity asked.
“It's probably better if you don't know for the moment. So a bit of cover is in order.” Verity unhooked a box big enough to contain a head, from the cross bar between the legs at one end of the stock that held Charity's neck in place. With an pirouette she showed the audience that the box consisted of four sides and a top. She placed the open bottom over Charity's head until it rested on the stock.
Verity opened the doors at the front of the box, revealing Charity's concerned face. “I hope that isn't mucking up my hair.” Some of the audience laughed.
“It might be, but we can fix that in a minute or so. The first thing I want to do means I need to shut the front of the box again.” Before Charity could respond, the doors were shut and latched. Verity pulled up the side panels of the head box, allowing the audience at the sides to see an inner wall on those sides that appeared to be a dense set of silvery ribbons, so that the volunteer's head was not visible.
“What's happening now?”
“I opened the sides so that it doesn't get too stuffy in there,” responded the magician, with a heavy wink towards the spectators. “And now I'm going to take the weight off your lap.” Verity came round the front and took the crystal ball. Returning behind the chair and frame, she settled the ball on the end of the stock. “This may feel a bit strange, but roll with it.” She rolled the ball along the stock towards the head box.
At the point when the expectation of the audience tended towards the woman in the gypsy costume crying out as the crystal ball tried to roll through box in its way and instead collided with her ear, the ball kept rolling and disappeared through the ribbon curtain in its way. Moments later, it rolled out through the ribbons on the other side. The magician deftly caught and rolled it back with the same result in the return direction.
The magician stopped the ball and then opened the front of the box, to show Charity's face bearing a puzzled expression. “What just happened?” the volunteer asked. Nobody, but Verity heard, because of the applauds.
“Nothing much,” the magician assured her volunteer. “Now, it's time to fix your hair. You don't mind if I do it a bit different, do you?”
“I'd rather you didn't.” The next phrase, “This cost me a lot at the hairdresser's,” was lost to most of the onlookers, as the front doors of the head box were reclosed.
The magician reinstated the the side panels of the box and then slid open the top, allowing a few tufts of Charity's hair to stick up visibly from within. A few motions of the magician's fingers later, had more of the volunteer's hair sticking out. “I think this calls for some hairspray.” Next she had in her hand a large can of hairspray; it was large enough that it would have been obvious if it had been hidden in her clothes.
Verity gave the aerosol a vigorous shake and then directed the spray into the top of the head box.
“Do you really I need so much hairspray?” enquired Charity's voice from inside the confines of the box.
“Well, you don't want your hair to flop about just like that.” replied the magician clicking her fingers to emphasise the brevity of hair control that might be expected by using less spray.
Very few audience members spotted the tiny flame that briefly flickered on the top of Verity's thumb; but no-one could missed the sudden transformation of the cone of hair starch to roaring flames. The magician stopped spraying immediately, but the damaged appeared to be done; all the tufts of hair visible from the top of the box hosted their own individual flames and were lit from below by a unsteady yellow glow. As the tufts shrunk, consumed by the flames, some flames appeared for a second or two out of the open box top. There were several screams, but nobody was sure if one of them was from Charity.
After a shocked look, Verity dropped the spray can and produced a fire extinguisher, that she directed into the box. A loud hissing white cloud briefly enveloped the magician and her volunteer. When the vapour cleared, the only things that seemed to have changed were the hairspray and the extinguisher were no longer in view.
“Are you alright?” asked the magician. She reached forward and opened the front doors of the box. Inside was a skull that initially emitted wisps of smoke from its jaws and its nostrils. After a stunned moment, the audience applauded.
Verity slammed the doors shut and then reopened them a second later. Charity's face was back and her make-up had changed to better suit the gypsy character of her costume.
“Enough playing about,” Verity announced. “time to cut your head off.” As she came round to the front of the apparatus she was carrying a square blade, which she tapped to get a sound that indicated that this was a single solid sheet of metal. The blade was slotted into the stock holding Charity's neck.
“I'm not sure that I want to do this,” said the volunteer.
“It may seem daunting at the moment, but I'm sure you love the result, once you get used to it.” The magician shut the box doors, then hit the handle end of the blade, pushing it into the stock. From inside the box came a surprised squeak.
The magician raised the side panel of the box closed to where the crystal ball still rested and the rolled the ball into the box and re-closed the panel. She lifted the box to show the glass orb in place of Charity's head.
While the audience applauded the astounding sight she placed the box on the stock where the ball had been, the re-raised it, leaving Charity's astonished head resting on the wood of the stock in a position a couple of inches to the left of her left shoulder.
Verity returned to the front and unlocked the piece of the stock that had held Charity's neck in place. She then picked up Charity's head and showed her the crystal replacement sat on top of her neck. The magician squatted in front of Charity's seated body. “Put your hands on my shoulders and we'll get you installed where everyone can find you to talk to you. Alright, now stand and follow me; I know you'll feel unsteady, that's why you've got your hands on my shoulders.”
While Verity guided Charity through the crowd towards the tent-like structure that had been set up in a corner of the room, she announced, “Please, give us a few minutes to get Charity set up in her role as 'Gypsy Rose Charity, the fortune teller', who will be telling fortunes for a small donation. And I'll be back in about fifteen minutes to perform another feat of magic for your amusement.”
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Throughout the remainder of the evening, there was a small queue at the entrance of the fortune teller's tent. Those that entered saw a woman with a crystal ball for a head sitting behind a small table on which sat a small stand that held Charity's head a few inches above the cloth that covered the table and draped a few inches over the edge.
They would chat for a few minutes and if the client wanted their fortune told, rather just to see a headless woman sitting behind her isolated head, they would be invited to join Charity in placing their hands on Charity's head. With the client's and the fortune-teller's hands touching her hair, she would say something that seemed insightful.
Charity began to feel she had a talent for fortune telling and wondered about offering her services to future events, where she might try it without the extreme body modification she was experiencing.