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“C’mon, step up!” the man shouted. “Triple your money! Fast eyes — all it takes is fast eyes.”
The man was short but slender, and dressed in a tight grey jacket. In front of him lay three plastic cups. He placed an orange ball beneath one of them, and began switching them around rapidly.
“YOU!” He pointed at a teenage kid in a red jacket. “You look like a sharp young man!” He stopped swapping cups just long enough to lift one. “Is the ball here? Or is it here?”
The second cup he pulled had the ball under it. Dropping the cup back down, he began shuffling them again in alternating circular motions. The kid in the red jacket’s head moved like it was on a swivel. He looked like he was getting dizzy.
“See it yet?” asked the street performer.
The kid looked wholly uncertain. He hesitated for a long moment, then pointed at the cup on the left. The man lifted it up… and sure enough the ball was there.
“See?” the man behind the table smiled broadly. “You would’ve won! Only you didn’t put your money down,” he lamented. “Oh no. Too bad…”
Quickly he began shuffling the cups again, while shouting into the crowd. “Anyone can win! Everyone can win! Ten gets you thirty! Twenty gets you sixty!”
Eventually he noticed us standing there, watching him. The man looked straight out at Roman and smiled.
“Don’t just stand there, step up and play!”
Roman shrugged at me, smiling sheepishly. Fishing into his pocket he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and dropped it onto the table.
“We’ve got a player here!” the man shouted, making sure everyone could hear. He lined up the cups. “Player up!”
The performer stuck his hand out, palm open. When Roman moved to shake it, the man raised his arm and deftly plucked an orange ball from behind Roman’s ear.
“Okay now,” he said with a laugh. “The ball’s in the middle, right?”
He dropped the ball onto the table and covered it with the center cup. Then he lifted the other two cups, to show they were empty.
“We good big man?”
“Yeah,” Roman acknowledged, his eyes glued to the center cup. “Okay.”
“We good then!”
Immediately the man began shuffling, moving the cups this way and that. He was moving them double speed now. Twice as fast as he was before, when he allowed the teenage kid to keep up and ‘win.’
“You’re watching, you’re watching, you’re watching…” the guy kept repeating. “Right?”
“Uh huh,” said Roman.
“Good! Because sometimes I slip up,” he laughed. “Sometimes I get someone whose eyes are faster than my hands, and who can keep up with the cups, and who never looks away long enough for me to—”
He stopped abruptly, mid-sentence. At the exact same time, his hands stopped moving the cups.
“Okay then!” the performer shouted. He crossed his hands together a few times for dramatic effect, then raised them over his head. “Which one has the ball?”
Roman paused for a long moment, looking every bit as hesitant as the teenage kid. He scratched behind his ear, before finally reaching out to point a finger toward the cup on the left.
Immediately I clamped my hand over his wrist.
“Ohhhhh!” the street performer laughed. He already had a hand on the cup, but hadn’t lifted it yet. “Your lady friend here doesn’t seem to like your choice!” He winked at me. “Do you?”
“No,” I smirked back at him. “I don’t.”
“Pray tell then,” the performer laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “Where’s the ball?”
Roman took a half step backward, deferring to me. As I stepped up, I eyed each cup deliberately.
