As Jeremy's protests faded with him being whisked off-stage, the audience roared. Maurice took a self-satisfied bow.
Into the club walked two young men, inebriated from the mini-whiskeys sold on their flight. Mid-conversation, they made no attempt to quiet themselves as they elbowed their way to a table.
"I'm telling you bro - I woulda had that match if that ref hadn't been fuckin' blind!"
"Don't think any more about it, bro, let's just get wasted-"
Suddenly, the noisy pair felt the heat of the spotlight and eyes of the crowd on them. They looked up. Both had tennis rackets sticking out of their bags. The two were dressed in polos and athletic shorts; their biceps, shoulders, and calves all visibly bulged. One had a sweatband sweeping back a wave of auburn hair. The other had carefully manicured stubble.
"Excuse me gentlemen, but you are interrupting my program, so if you would kindly keep your voices-"
"All right fatso, why don't you leave us alone and get on with the program, all right? We're having a tough day here and not bothering anyone."
A glint formed in Maurice's eye.
"Ah yes, you lost a match, did you? Tennis, I presume by the preppy attire? Must be feeling rather weak, better take a load off and relax. What's your name young man?"
"My name is Tony" chuckled the player, "And being called weak is pretty rich coming from you, Tubs."
"Oh?" said Maurice innocently, raising his thick eyebrows in mock surprise. "Well, if you're feeling bold, why don't you come on up and prove what a strong man you are. If you win, you and your buddy get drinks on me. If you lose, you have to be part of my next trick. Agree? Or are you -" Maurice reached into his sleeve and pulled out a rubber chicken with a flourish "chicken?"
Maurice squeaked the rubber toy and Tony found himself rising out of his chair, despite having had no intention of doing so.
"Bro, what are you doing?" whispered his friend.
"Gotta...prove I'm no chicken..." muttered Tony as he made his way to the stage.
"Everyone please give our handsome volunteer a round of applause!" said Maurice as Tony arrived on stage, suddenly realizing what he had done and looking around sheepishly.
"Now Young Anthony," said Maurice as he pulled out two folding chairs and a card table to center-stage, "I challenge you to a simple arm wrestling contest. Think you can take me, big guy?"
Tony snorted. "Oh I should think so."
The two sat down and locked arms. Maurice reached down and pulled a bright pink feather duster out of his hat. "I hope you don't mind if I multi-task Tony-boy, the set needs some freshening up."
"Um, whatever dude" said Tony.
Maurice smiled maliciously. "Very good. Lets start in three-two-one."
The two began and while Maurice put up a bit of a fight, Tony was pleased he was no match for his trained muscles and the magician's arm began bending back. However, Maurice began dusting the air and all of a sudden, Tony felt like he was being tickled by invisible hands - under his armpits, his belly, the soles of his feet. He burst out laughing and as he did, Maurice seized the advantage and Tony found his shoulder hit the table with his arm.
"Oooh, so sorry Tony-o, two losses in one day has got to sting."
"That's not fair! You, you cheated!" sputtered Tony.
"Sorry my boy, I won fair and square - game, set, match. Time for your stage debut!" Maurice rubbed his chin in a show of performative consideration of what to do with Tony, who found himself unable to move his feet to storm offstage as he intended.