The Incredible Kings

Spring was beginning to emerge in New York City, a welcoming shift in the city where winter winds tear through clothes and lick the bone. The sun was high and bright when Kiko and I stepped out of the apartment and into the noise and clutter of Bushwick. Salt and sand that had kept the sidewalk from being slick, now crushed into the pavement, sparkled in the sun creating an illusion of diamonds in the street.

Kiko had been my walking partner for nearly fourteen years after I moved from Minneapolis to New York. My first roommate, whom I had found on Craigslist, abandoned his dog with me and disappeared without paying the last three month’s rent. Kiko’s perky cadence had brought me happiness in a city that was surprisingly lonely.

We had once been fresh and young on these streets where men would holler unwanted cats calls at me and kids would point at the cuteness of Kiko. Over time, his eyes had been rendered partially blind by clouds of cataracts and tags of skin and fat began developing into undesirable skin protrusions. He had grown wide taking on the appearance of an overstuffed sausage skipping next to me on his disproportionate little legs, head up and alert like he was part of a neighborhood watch committee. Time passed, the neighborhood shifted and things looked as differently as we had when I first moved here almost a decade and a half ago.

Garbage however was an unchanging element of Bushwick streets and everyday seemed like garbage day or a forgotten garbage day. Bags broke and spewed onto the glistening sidewalk as rats ran from bag to bag like merchants at a market. Kiko loved to dumpster dive and I would have to watch him carefully in order to prevent his stout body from torpedoing into a heaping pile of refuse. That day I had abandoned my shift to tie my shoelace and within a minute he was waist deep between two black bags. I gently pulled on his lead and like a fish on a line Kiko jerked out gripping something dark in his snout.

To my surprise it was not a rotting piece of meat but an immaculate, little black book that had no signs it had been stewing in garbage. Kiko dropped it on command and without reservation I did something I had never done with an article that Kiko had pulled from the trash, I picked it up and feathered through its pages. There was not a single marking besides on the first page which read: In case of loss, please return to: Daren King 1458 Greene Avenue, Bushwick 11237. As a reward: $20,000.

I was dumbstruck and positive that my eyes were the ones that had cataracts, sure that the zeros would begin to disappear behind the two. I must have stood there for five minutes when a horn from a nearby delivery truck shook me out of my delirium. The line still clearly read, As a reward: $20,000. Greene Avenue was a ten minute walk from where I stood and I nearly ran there with Kiko waddling behind me hopelessly trying to keep up. I felt giddy, scared and seriously questioning my sanity. What would lead me to walk up to a random house, ring a doorbell and expect a $20,000 reward for a book filled with blank pages?

Yet, here I was facing down a house that I had never noticed that was remarkably noticeable. Surrounded by two and three-story walkups sat an ominous, a-typical scary movie mansion. It was set slightly off the street with an unkempt yard featuring a giant weeping willow whose limbs draped over the sidewalk and a path that lead to a foreboding front door. Kiko began to whine and pull on his leash signaling his readiness to depart but my mouth watered at the thought of that reward.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”, I partly asked him but mostly myself, “the streets are filled with people”. I gained my nerve and pushed open the gate that stood between me and the house.

The branches on the weeping willow danced in the wind, ushering me up the stairs to the front porch that wrapped around the house. The windows were shuttered and I prayed that I would survive. My hand was shaking and I nearly passed out as I touched my forefinger to the door bell. One, two, three I began to count deciding that I would turn to leave on twenty but when I reached ten I heard something shuffling behind the door and the sound of chain and locks being turned and undone.The door inched open to reveal an elderly women draped in a velvet shawl with jewels in tones of emerald, ruby and sapphire adorning her every appendage. She had the air of a duchess long forgotten by her monarchy. The voice that came from her was powerful despite her fragility.

“Yes?”, she asked.

“Is Daren King here?”, I muttered.

“There is no Daren King here”, she answered.

“I’m sorry to bother you”, I said and turned to walk away. I saw her eyes shift from my face to my hand holding the black book.

“That is, he no longer lives here as he has passed away. Why did you wish to find him?”, she asked pointedly. I presented her with the little black book.

“Ah, you are here for the reward”.

She moved out of the doorframe and gestured for me to enter a dimly lit foyer. On the wall hung dozens of black and white photos and colorful vintage posters in ornate gold frames. The images they encased showed a man and women dressed in cloaks, caps and corsets participating in various magical acts. In one a women defied gravity and in another a man floated in a tank filled with water. The posters announced the coming dates of “The Incredible Kings!”.

“As you can see, my husband I were magicians and that is our book of tricks”, she stated.

“But that book is empty”, I said.

“Not this book” and she fanned the pages of the little black book revealing illustrations of illusions and magical devices.

For the second time that day I was in awe, unable to speak or take my eyes off the pages that fluttered before me.

“My husband must have dropped it while he was on a walk. When he passed, I looked everywhere for it and was sure it was lost forever. Thank you for bringing it back to me. It is truly priceless but since we put a price on it, lets get to the reward”. She moved over to a desk that stood at one side of the hall.

“Would you like check or cash”, she asked.

Hardly believing any of this was real I replied, “cash”.

She flipped her right fist up and opened her palm. On the surface of her hand $100 dollar bills started to stack out of thin air. Once the stack reached a considerable height she handed the bills over to me.

Still expecting a host from a reality TV show to pop out of an adjoining room, I reached for the cash and put it in my pocket. I thanked her, she nodded and thanked me as well. I left the house as quickly as I arrived. It was as if wind had lifted me and blown me through the door, down the stairs, out of the gate and down the block. As I turned the corner, I checked my pocket positive that the whole thing had been an illusion but there nestled next to my keys and crumbled receipts was the $20,000 reward.