MAGIC MAN: A Good Guys Novel Read online

  Magic Man

  Copyright © 2019 Jamie Schlosser

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is for your enjoyment only and may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without permission from the author except for brief quotations in a book review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to locations or incidents are coincidental.

  Due to language and sexual content, this book is intended for readers 18 and older.

  Cover design: More Than Words Graphic Design

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  Proofreading: Deaton Author Services

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  SYNOPSIS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  EPILOGUE

  DROPOUT EXCERPT

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  OTHER BOOKS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To Gus,

  No matter what, I promise to always love you on accident and on purpose.

  I’ve been putting my son first for so long that I’ve forgotten how to be me. Each monotonous day bleeds into the next, and I feel like I’m struggling to keep my head above water.

  But a kiss at the top of a Ferris wheel with a man I barely know changes that.

  Jay reminds me that I used to be bold. Vivacious. Funny.

  Strong.

  Now if only I could convince him his past mistakes don’t define the man he is today.

  I can perform over a dozen illusions with a simple sleight of hand, but I can’t make the felony on my record disappear.

  The last thing I should be doing is hanging around a young single mom and her kid.

  But Casey doesn’t know that I’ve been watching her. That I want her for myself. That I’m addicted to her dimples, her tenacity, her fierce love for her child.

  If I was a better man, I’d leave her alone, but she pulls off the biggest magic trick of all time: making me believe I’m a good guy.

  The first time I met Casey Maxwell, I told her two lies and a truth. After all, deception was one of my best talents.

  Knocking on the screen door of her doublewide trailer, I stepped back on the rotted wooden porch. I studied the faded yellow siding while mentally rehearsing the answers to the questions she would ask.

  She’d be curious about the stranger on her doorstep with a mysterious wad of cash, and I had the lies locked and loaded on the tip of my tongue.

  Seconds ticked by, and I knocked again.

  I knew she was home.

  I knew a lot of things about her I shouldn’t.

  Like the fact that she’d turned sixteen two months ago, her favorite color was blue, and she worked at the diner down the road. She rode her blue bike everywhere because she couldn’t afford a car. She got straight A’s in school, and she lived in this piece of shit trailer with her mom. Her dad had been out of the picture since before she was born.

  And, if she hadn’t gotten knocked up by an abusive psycho, she would’ve been going into her junior year at Brenton High School at the end of the summer.

  I heard the rattling of locks before the door opened a little. One apprehensive blue eye peered at me through the crack.

  “Can I help you?”

  “So,” I started, my tone jovial as I raked a hand through my hair. “Last night was a shit show, huh?”

  A quizzical quirk of her eyebrow was the only agreement I got, and I could read the sarcastic comment running through her mind.

  Ya think?

  My assessment of the events that led me here were accurate—an illegal fighting match at an abandoned farmhouse, bloodshed, and the biggest drug bust this small corner of the world had seen in decades.

  And Casey was at the center of it all.

  Although my memories from the past twenty-four hours were hazy, I remembered seeing her last night. Out of place, too young to be there, heavy makeup meant to make her look older.

  After her boyfriend got knocked out, she’d fallen to her knees next to him and quietly admitted she was having his baby.

  “Jaxon didn’t even tell me where he was taking me last night.” Casey’s jaw worked with annoyance. “I’m not a fan of violence.”

  Well, she was dating the wrong guy then.

  She probably didn’t even know what a bad guy Jaxon Meyers was.

  But I did.

  Casey wasn’t the first vulnerable girl he’d pursued. At least that fucker got the ass whooping he deserved, courtesy of my buddy, Jimmy.

  Jimmy had been blood-thirsty on behalf of his girlfriend, Mackenna. She’d been a victim of Jaxon’s abuse years ago. The bastard almost killed her. In the couple months since Jaxon got released from prison, he’d been harassing Mackenna with threatening letters.

  And apparently also getting a sixteen-year-old girl pregnant. Busy guy.

  “Hi, I’m Jay.” I offered Casey my right hand.

  Without opening the door further, her skeptical gaze landed on it, then flitted back up to my face. No handshake then.

  She was afraid of me. Good girl.

  I dropped my arm. “I’m a friend of Jaxon’s.”

  That was the first lie. The words felt wrong coming out, but I needed Casey to trust me enough to accept the gift I wanted to give her.

  “What does he want?” Her voice was hard. “I’m not bailing him out. Even if I had the money, I wouldn’t do it. If I’d known he was dealing drugs, I wouldn’t have been dating him. I’m not that kind of girl, so if he gets out you can tell him to stay away from me. I already told him it’s over.”

  Okay, so maybe being friendly with her ex wasn’t the right angle to play. Unfortunately, it was the only angle I had.

  “No bail for him,” I reassured her. “Thanks to the meth the cops found in his pocket, I don’t think Jaxon will be seeing life outside bars for a long time.”

  A relieved sigh left her and some of the worry vanished from the one eye I could see. She opened the door wider, and then I had a full view of her heart-shaped face.

  That trust I was seeking? I could sense Casey’s defenses coming down a little.

  But I wasn’t innocent either—not when it came to drugs. I’d been selling and using for years, and it was only a matter of time until I got caught.

  After the fight was over, all hell had broken loose when we’d heard the sirens approaching. High on painkillers and panic, I’d tried to outr
un the police.

  I just wasn’t fast enough.

  My biggest regret was almost taking Jimmy down with me. Instead of pulling my car over and keeping my cool like any sane person would’ve done, I drove into a ditch then took off on foot into a cornfield, leaving Jimmy behind to deal with the consequences.

  While searching my car, the cops found my stash and took Jimmy in for questioning. It was probably a good thing he was oblivious about my ‘pharmaceutical occupation.’ He gave his full cooperation and walked out of the station a free man.

  I wasn’t so lucky.

  There was a warrant out for my arrest, and it was the final nail in the coffin of my downward spiral.

  After this last good deed, I was going to turn myself in.

  I’d been on the wrong path since I was too young to know better, directed there by the one person I should’ve been able to look up to. I was my father’s son. He’d made sure of it, and now I was going to suffer the same fate as him—a dark, lonely cell.

  In an attempt to redeem myself, I’d promised Mackenna I’d find some things out about Casey, because when she’d heard about the baby situation, she was concerned.

  Hence, the reason why I was at Casey’s house.

  I told myself it wasn’t because I wanted to personally check on her. It wasn’t because I wanted to catch one last glimpse of her before I went away for a long, long time.

  Because no matter how pretty she was, I wasn’t a pervert. I didn’t fuck around with girls who were four years younger than me.

  I only had one thing to offer her.

  Extending my arm, I held my palm out, facing up. “Here, Jaxon wanted you to have this.”

  Lie number two.

  Casey stared at my empty hand, then glanced from side to side like she was questioning her own sanity. “Um, there’s nothing in your hand.”

  “Oh, silly me. I forgot to do this…”

  Closing my fist, I turned it over. I tapped the back of it with my fingers, then opened it again. Seeming to appear out of nowhere was an envelope. The white rolled-up paper uncurled, and Casey’s eyes widened in wonder.

  It was a magic trick I’d perfected. An illusion. An entertaining sleight of hand.

  Snatching it quickly, she made sure our hands didn’t touch. When she looked inside, she frowned, then speared me with a glare.

  “This is four hundred dollars. Jaxon didn’t win the fight.” She tossed it back to me. “If it’s his drug money, I don’t want it.”

  I just shrugged because she wasn’t entirely wrong—it was drug money, only it wasn’t Jaxon’s. It was mine.

  I held it out to her again. “Please? For the baby.”

  “Shh!” Quickly glancing behind her, she clamored out onto the porch and slammed the door behind her.

  Stepping close, Casey ran a hand through her dark strands.

  The space suddenly felt much smaller with her out here. I could smell the fruity scent of her hair in the breeze.

  Needing distance, I stumbled back ungracefully, leaning my ass against the unstable railing.

  Casey crossed her arms over her light-blue tank top and she quietly muttered, “My mom doesn’t know yet, okay? She might kick me out when I tell her.”

  Shit.

  It’d been a long time since I’d cared about anyone but myself, but for some reason, the thought of this girl alone and scared made me feel weird.

  “All the more reason for you to take this.” I shook the envelope.

  Indecision warred in her mind as she toyed with her necklace. A small prism hung from a silver chain, and she ran it back and forth as she considered my offer.

  I studied her face for signs of recent crying, but there were no splotches on her cheeks. Her eyes weren’t red or puffy, and I respected the determination shining in her crystal-clear blues.

  Without the makeup, everything about Casey screamed of youth.

  Innocence that had been stolen too soon.

  Her rosy cheeks were slightly rounded, and her body was thin. Her hips lacked curves, and her denim shorts hung loosely on her slender frame. Her lips weren’t overly full, but the shape was attractive. The corners naturally turned up, like she wore a constant smirk. The arm that was lodged under her breasts pushed them up, creating cleavage that was extremely distracting.

  I smiled a little when I looked down at her knobby knees.

  She was totally rocking that awkward stage between childhood and maturity, and hints of the woman she’d grow into peeked through.

  Someday, she was going to be a knockout.

  And I shouldn’t have been thinking of her that way.

  Averting my stare, I waved the envelope again and the tense muscles between my shoulder blades relaxed when she reluctantly took it.

  My mission was complete.

  “You have red hair,” she blurted out, then blushed the prettiest shade of pink. “I just didn’t notice it last night because it was dark, but in the sunlight, it’s really obvious.” Flapping a hand toward my head, she looked down at her bare feet and rubbed her toes together. “Sorry. You know what color your hair is. I just don’t know any ginger guys.”

  Throwing my head back, I laughed. She wasn’t saying it like it was a bad thing. Just a light-hearted observation.

  Trapping her bottom lip between her teeth, Casey tried to contain a grin while lifting her shoulders in an awkward shrug. When her smile won out, dimples appeared in both cheeks.

  Aw, fuck, she was cute.

  Gazing at her, I imagined the what-ifs.

  What life could’ve been like in an alternate universe where I wasn’t a fuckup. A place where I took the straight and narrow, did well in school, went to college. Got some job with a suit and tie. Another world where Casey wasn’t too young for me, and I wasn’t too messed up to be good for someone like her.

  One last glance at her knobby knees put me back in my place, and the tremble in my fingers reminded me of the hellish drug withdrawal I was about to experience.

  “Well, good luck with everything.” I nodded my head toward the trailer, hoping her mom would be supportive. Then I added, “Keep your chin up and your standards high. You hear me?”

  The amused twist of her lips sobered as she hugged her middle. “I hear you.”

  “Promise,” I demanded.

  “I promise.”

  When I turned away, I trailed my hand over the rough wood of the railing as I soaked up the last remnants of my freedom.

  Wind rustled the tall maple trees surrounding the trailer park. The sky was a perfect cloudless blue. The summer breeze smelled like fresh-cut grass and cornfields.

  I’d miss all this.

  Just as I made it off the bottom step to the cracked concrete, Casey asked, “Will I see you around?”

  I hadn’t expected that question, or the hopeful expression on her face when I glanced over my shoulder.

  I gave her a sad smile. “No.”

  And that was the truth.

  Two Years Later

  A loud cry woke me with a start.

  Just like every other night for the past fifteen months.

  My body shook from the shock of being yanked from deep sleep so fast. No matter how many times this happened, I couldn’t seem to get used to it.

  I stared up at the water-stained ceiling, blinking to get my bearings. Light from the streetlamp outside cast a glow over the room, and the sound of crickets came in through the open window with the summer breeze.

  Another impatient shriek made me wince as I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. My kid had an internal clock like nothing I’d ever seen.

  Every night at one a.m., it was party time to Gus.

  Sighing, I dragged myself out of bed and walked the few steps to the crib in the corner of the small bedroom. Gus was standing behind the bars with a big pout and tears in his eyes.

  “I don’t know why you always look at me like I’ve betrayed you,” I told him. “We’ve had the same routine your whole life.”

&nbs
p; Around nine o’clock, he’d fall asleep in my arms while I watched the local news. Then I’d gently set him down on his bed, hoping he’d make it through the night. Praying for a full eight hours of sleep.

  Looked like tonight wasn’t my lucky night.

  I picked him up, kissed his cheek, and settled down onto the twin-sized mattress with him. Tucking the covers around us, I lay on my back while cradling his body between mine and the wood panel wall.

  Gus was a cuddler, so he didn’t mind the close proximity. Which was a good thing. The bed I’d had since I was a kid might not have been big enough for the both of us, but an upgrade wasn’t in the budget.

  “Nyuk.” The request was mumbled around the thumb in his mouth.

  “You want milk, buddy?”

  He nodded. “Nyuk. Nyuk.”

  “All right, bubsy bubster.”

  I had a lot of nicknames for my little dude. Buddy. Bud. Bubbie goo. Mister buddy goo goobie goo man. Sometimes I got a little obnoxious with it—I even had made-up theme songs just for him.

  But the name I used most was Gus. Short for August.

  When I’d scoured the internet for baby names, nothing could grab me. Then I saw the name August. It seemed fitting that he was named after my favorite month of the year. It was the same month I found out I was going to be a mom. The same month I learned a little person would join me on this crazy journey called life.

  Back then, I’d been blissfully unaware of how hard motherhood was.

  I’d never known an infant could cry as much as my son did. From day one, I’d affectionately called him Grumpy Gus, because he was the grouchiest baby in the history of ever.

  My foggy, sleep-deprived recollections from those first few months included a lot of screaming on his part and quite a few frustrated tears from me.

  Although his disposition had improved and I’d dropped the ‘Grumpy’ title, the name Gus just stuck. It stuck so hard that I rarely called him by his actual name. He knew if I broke out ‘August Michael’ he was in big trouble.

  “Someday, right?” I asked him, swinging my legs off the bed and hoisting him up on my hip. “That’s what they tell me. Someday you’ll sleep.”

  I shuffled out to the kitchen in the dark.