Chapter 5 #4
“I had to watch you when I got to prison. And you read a lot. I’ll send a message to J to make sure there are a couple in your room. Tell me—do you just like the Sheikh romances, or are you not picky?”
Caspar blushed. “Oh. Oh, God. I don’t even know how to answer that.”
“I’ll tell J to bring a variety, then.”
Caspar laughed, but soon nodded. “Thank you. I think I’d like that a lot.”
“Not at all. A few more rules, though, okay?”
“Sure. Will there be a quiz?”
“No, but the less I have to repeat myself the better. When you wish, you repeat the wish three times so you don’t accidentally wish for something else. You can also only wish for things for yourself.”
“For myself? That seems odd.”
“Yes, but like anything, there are loopholes. Let’s say you wanted to wish for your lawyer friend to have a nice house.
You can’t do that because you’re not wishing for something for you.
Wishes are selfish, egotistical, and function on self-interest. If you wanted to wish for a house for yourself and then give it to Anthony, then that would work. ”
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. How is… how is Anthony? Do you know much about him?”
“Some. He’s hard to track down, really, since he works a lot, and it wasn’t my job to track him.
I only know that his father was your lawyer and he gave up on the case after a while.
Anthony helped with the appeals while he was in law school, but soon gave up on criminal law and went into real estate instead. He owns a bunch of companies now.”
“Yeah, all that’s true. He still comes to see me, though.
Sent some letters…” Caspar bit his lip. God, he missed Anthony.
Not as the lawyer-in-training, but as his best friend growing up.
They’d been next door neighbours, and never spent more than a weekend apart over ten years before high school started and changed everything.
When Caspar was sentenced to life, and he sold the house to pay off debts, he assumed Anthony must have sold his parents’ house as well.
That would make the most sense given the museum next door.
“He’s a good guy, though. Even when he couldn’t see me in there, he always sent me a Christmas card so I wouldn’t be alone on holidays.
Even though I don’t really celebrate Christmas, it was still nice. ”
“You can’t call Anthony because you’re supposed to be dead,” Malek said. “But I meant what I said before about getting people gifts. If you want to send something to him or anyone else in your life, we will find a way to get it to them without compromising your freedom.”
“I… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll wish for a house for him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Um. No, I’m not. Just thinking out loud.”
“Okay. But that’s why we have the repeat rule, you see?”
Caspar nodded. When yet another song came over the radio that he didn’t know, he fiddled with the dial so he could roam through the other stations. He found one playing oldies from over ten years ago and felt much better.
“You like Bran Van 3000?”
“Sure. I’m mostly stopping here because I know the lyrics.”
“That’s cool. You know one of the singers from this band is a lawyer now?”
“Huh. Insane how much can change when your one-hit wonder fades away,” Caspar said, not meaning to sound as bitter as he was.
Malek nodded and seemed like he understood instantly. “Don’t worry. You’ll get caught up on everything. Now that I know you like music, I’ll send Jocasta a message to fill your place with that, too.”
“Music and romance novels. What more could I want?”
“Oh, I have an idea.” Malek flicked on the turn signal to change lanes. A green sign declared Toronto was a couple more kilometres away. “Your safe house still isn’t ready yet, but your glamour is, so we may as well go out on the town. You’re a new man, after all.”
“New man?”
Malek tapped open the glove compartment. A shimmer of sparkles fell out and landed on the car’s interior. When Caspar coughed, more glitter bounded into the air. He blinked and coughed again. His vision blurred. For a second, he feared the worst—
“Sashay away,” Malek cackled. The music on the radio became a swell of sound.
Caspar could only blink. His skin felt tight. He pulled down the car’s visor and glimpsed at his new face. It was still sort of like his old face, but now… it was more golden. Still himself, but shiny.
“Am I always going to look like an Oscar statue?” Caspar turned to Malek, catching a glimpse of his reflection in Malek’s dark eyes.
“And the award goes to…” Malek chuckled. “Don’t worry, you only seem strange to you because you know you’re different now. To us, you’re just a dude.”
“Just a dude.”
“And now that you’re like every other dude out there,” Malek added, “we’re going to head somewhere often requested by our prisoners when they get out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I think you’ll find it a very welcoming environment.”
When a hotel sign flashed ahead, Caspar’s stomach twisted in knots of desire.
A hotel? With Malek? Maybe sex was a renewable resource—or maybe he didn’t even need to wish it into existence; it was something Malek would freely give.
Caspar smiled, turned up the next song, and waited on the edge of his seat.