I do a riffle shuffle of a new deck I purchased on my condom run as I talk, and then cut the deck with one hand, sweeping it into two individual, impressive fans. There’s some polite oohing to start with, but as I run through a series of flourishes and twirls, I see people start to crane their necks for better views.

“I believe you all know my lovely assistant, Isabel McEvoy.” I combine the cards into a single deck and sweep them into a thumb fan that I extend in her direction. It took me hours of practice to master that one, and I’m gratified when it works beautifully, even if I’m well aware the applause is for the strawberry blonde next to me and not because of the seamlessness with which I just displayed every card in the deck in my small hand. “Isabel, would you please pick a card?”

She prances over and bends to eye it closely, which has even more necks craning from the audience. Finally, she selects a card, and I dramatically cover my eyes while she shows it to the audience.

“Three of hearts!” yells out a voice from the back I’m pretty sure belongs to my dear friend Archie.

“Seven of spades!” adds another one—Duncan, I’m almost positive.

A few more voices yell out random cards, and it takes everything in me not to let it mess with my concentration. “If the gentlemen in the back could kindly shut their pieholes!” I declare cheerfully, grateful that Isabel waits until they do before slipping the card back in.

I take note of the spot where she returned the card, and cut the deck accordingly. It’s a silly trick, one I’ve practiced with Isabel no fewer than ten times, and it drives her nuts that she can’t figure it out. I flash the bottom of the deck to her and show it to the audience. “Is this your card?”

“It is not!” she says triumphantly.

“All right, then! Let’s put that card down, and move one to the back of the deck.” We go through this for four more cards, and when we hit the last one, I offer a dramatic “Still no?” and Isabel shakes her head slowly and smugly, making the audience laugh.

Thank God I did not attempt to do this myself with a random volunteer, although it would’ve been fun to pick Salem or Sabrina, just to torture them.

Or Archie. I really would not mind torturing Archie. Would that I were at a level in cardistry where I could kill a man with a two of spades.

As if on cue, someone yells out from the audience, “Rumson Girl fucked up the trick!”

“Language!” calls a disembodied authoritative voice.