Sleight by Jennifer Sommersby Read Free Book Online Page B

about dinner with Henry Dmitri—she’d done nothing but gush about him since we’d returned from school.
    “He’s so hot, and oh, you’re so lucky that he was your buddy today, Gemma!” But that was Junie’s deal. Like her brother, her hormones had been shocked into overdrive. She flitted in and out of the kitchen providing updates about the new financier, the mysterious, filthy rich Lucian Dmitri. He was “sorta scary” according to Junie, but incredible with card tricks.
    “He makes the Mind Freak guy look like a monkey, Gemma.
    You gotta come see this!” The reigning Queen of Hyperbolandia.
    “If you don’t come out and say helo, I wil bring them back here, or at least Henry. Guess what? He’s asked about you, Gemmmmmma…”
    “No one in ze kitchen! Sortez!” Jean-Pierre overheard Junie’s threats.
    “You heard the man. No one in ze kitchen. That probably includes you, Junie,” I said.
    “Gemma, please,” she flashed Jean-Pierre a dirty look. “Please, come out here and say helo. Stop being so emo. It’s not your style.
    And stop pouting about the school thing. It’s not like Ted and Marlene are shipping you to an orphanage—” Junie stopped a milisecond too late. Not enough time had passed for orphan jokes.
    Not yet. And with my mystery father the parental equivalent of Houdini… Junie must have been desperate for me to come out of hiding if she was wiling to drop that sweet little grenade.
    “Thanks for that, Junie. Your sensitivity is touching.” She blushed, her head down. “You know what I meant, Gems.” She grabbed both my hands, knocking the coin onto the counter, and puled me from the stool. I couldn’t hold her off any longer, and she had a point. It was just school. And Dmitri Holdings was going to be paying the bils for some time to come, so I should avoid the later wrath of Ted and at least pretend to be civilized.
    “I’l give you five minutes, Juniper Thomassen.”
    “Trust me. Five seconds is al you’l need.”
    Locking her elbow around mine, Junie puled me through the swinging door into the dining room. The performers and kids were lined up at the buffet, some for second helpings. The mood was festive, as it had been the other night after the mad shopping spree.
    The buzz of conversation was punctuated by the enthusiastic exclamations of a group of company members nearer the eastern side of the tent. They were standing, gathered around someone tal, though I could only see the back of him. His hair was dark, almost pepper black, interspersed with a little salt, just enough to hint at his age. He was dressed in a long black wool overcoat, tailored to his lean body, and despite the drizzle and sloppiness of the grounds between the parking lot and the mess tent, he was impeccable. Not a stray splatter of mud, not a wisp of hay. Perfection. He reeked of money.
    I’d seen this body before, with its long lines, that fine coat.
    The crowd surrounding him erupted with applause. A trick. He must have done something amazing and the entertainers were entertained. My limited knowledge of Lucian Dmitri included that he and Ted were old chums, and from Junie’s exaggerated report, his skil with sleight-of-hand was amazing. I’d seen Ted with a deck of cards—he was phenomenal—but the clot of humanity hovering around our new boss was clearly impressed by whatever they were seeing. I couldn’t help but feel intrigued, and annoyed.
    Junie and I wove through the tables toward Mr. Dmitri and his rapt audience. Even the few performers Ted had pegged to do walk-around tricks were standing stil, watching the action. Just before we reached the edge of the group, the man of the hour turned, shoulders squared, and extended his hand.
    “Gemma Flannery, I presume,” he said. I stopped. Our eyes locked and in that instant, I saw a reflection of something sinister in his eyes, a familiarity I couldn’t pin down. The hairs on my arms stood on end. We stood in that position, me just a couple