It was all very clean, very classy, very Bella Bulluci.
Everything was going so smoothly I decided to allow myself a treat, carbs and calories be damned. I flagged down a waiter and took a glass of champagne off his silver tray. But as soon as I grabbed the crystal flute, my power flared. My fingers twitched. My hair frizzed. And my body hummed with static energy.
And things had been going so well. I hadn’t exploded food or shattered diamonds or been almost brained by a falling anvil the entire day. I’d hoped to get through the rest of the evening without incident.
But my itchy fingers told me one thing—that I would spill the drink before the night was over. Probably in the loudest, most embarrassing, attention-getting manner possible. My fingers tightened around the crystal flute, as if they could keep the golden liquid in my grasp. In the end, that small action wouldn’t save me. But maybe it would be enough to delay the disaster until after the benefit. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
“Why are you frowning, Bella?” a thick, familiar voice rumbled in my ear.
“I wasn’t frowning, Grandfather.”
Bobby waggled his white eyebrows. “My dear, I know a frown when I see one, especially on your beautiful face. Why are you unhappy? Tonight is your big night, and it’s gone off wonderfully.”
“So far,” I said, clutching the glass to my chest.
“It’s too bad Johnny couldn’t be here,” my grandfather said. “I’m sure he and Fiona would have been very proud of you.”
“Actually, Johnny called to congratulate me this morning and tell me what a wonderful time they’re having in Greece.” I took a cautious sip of my champagne. Perhaps if I drank it slowly, it would be gone before I spilled it. Then, I’d only have the glass to worry about. Not that that would be much better. I could do things to glasses that would make angels weep. “I’m actually glad Fiona isn’t here.”
“Why’s that?”
“If she’d come tonight, I would have been forced to add another ten thousand dollars to the food budget just to keep her modestly fed. You know how she eats.”
My grandfather threw back his head and laughed. “That she does, with gusto. It’s one of the things I like about her.”
Fiona did just about everything with gusto, from eating like she had four stomachs instead of just one to designing clothes to battling ubervillains. She could afford to. She had a useful power, one she could control, instead of it controlling her, like mine always did.
“You’re frowning again,” Bobby accused. “What’s wrong?”
I plastered a smile on my face. “It’s nothing, Grandfather. I just feel some bad luck coming on.”
“Maybe you’re wrong this time.”
“I’m never wrong. Something bad will happen before the night is through. You’ll see.”
“Well, everyone is having a marvelous time, and the museum has received several large donations already, including one from this old man.” Bobby winked. “What’s a little bad luck compared to all that?”
This time, my smile was genuine. Grandfather was so cheerfully exasperating he always took my mind off my troubles.
“Come,” Bobby said, offering his arm to me. “I want to take another look at Berkley’s sapphire before he hides it back in his vault.”
“Why? Are you thinking of stealing it?”
Bobby’s green eyes were sly and bright in his face. “Perhaps. If my Angel wings hadn’t been clipped long ago.”
My grandfather led me through the room, making sure to greet each and every woman we passed. He kissed hands and flirted and laughed, in keeping with his costume. Grandfather had chosen to come dressed as a pirate. He wore a white shirt with flowing cuffs, along with black boots and breeches. A red sash added a bit of color around his waist, while a black eye patch gave him a dashing, slightly dangerous air.
I kept a close eye on the women he talked to, seeing if one had a certain reaction to my grandfather. A soft look on her face. A shy smile. A particular sparkle in her eyes. But I couldn’t tell who Bobby’s mysterious lady friend might be.
After a good twenty minutes of small talk, we reached the center of the room, where the Star Sapphire rested on top of its white pedestal. It looked as dazzling as ever, throwing out endless rays of cool, blue light. The gem’s deep, brilliant color reminded me of Debonair’s eyes.
Grandfather wandered off to talk to some of his old cronies. I stared at the sapphire, mesmerized by the way each one of its thousands of facets caught and reflected the gleaming light. I bit my lip, wishing I’d brought along a sketch pad tonight so I could try to capture its beauty.
“It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” a voice murmured.
I started. I’d been so deep into my admiration of the gem I hadn’t even heard Devlin Dash walk up beside me.
“It is impressive,” I admitted.
“What do you like best about it?” Devlin asked.
I cocked my head to one side, studying the glistening jewel. “I love the way it catches the light and glows, as if it has an inner fire.”
“Why, Bella, I didn’t realize you were quite so passionate about the arts,” Devlin said.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was teasing me. But I’d never known Devlin Dash to tell a joke. At least, not without stumbling over the punch line.
“The arts are one of my main delights in life,” I said. “What about you, Mr. Dash? Are you passionate enough to give the museum another hefty contribution this year?”
Normally, I would never be this blunt and aggressive, but the museum deserved all the funds it could get. And it was my job as chairperson to make sure I squeezed every penny out of every person I could, even shy, awkward businessmen.
“Of course,” Devlin said. “I’ll be more than happy to write you and the museum a check.”
I smiled. “That would be wonderful. Anything you could do to support the museum would be most appreciated.”
Devlin opened his mouth to respond, but Joanne James walked up to us, still wearing her outrageous, lavender leather getup. Devlin’s mouth fell open a little more. The businessman’s six-foot form gave him a perfect, bird’s-eye view down Joanne’s low-cut bustier. But to his credit, Devlin took a nervous swallow of his champagne and moved off to admire some Faberge miniatures instead of Joanne’s chest.
“It really is something, isn’t it?” Joanne said, referring to the sapphire and not her costume. I hoped. “It’s just a shame it’s too big to wear. And that Berkley won’t have it cut just a little bit.”
Her eyes dropped to the enormous diamond ring on her finger. It wasn’t much smaller than the sapphire. I took another cautious sip of my champagne and shook my head. You could always count on Joanne to be openly avaricious.
“I rather like it the way it is,” I said. “I don’t think it would be nearly as beautiful cut up into rings.”
“I agree,” a cold, feminine voice cut in. “Something that exquisite shouldn’t be divided into shallow pieces. It should stay just the way it is.”
Hannah Harmon joined us. She looked remarkably calm, giving her rant against everyone in attendance less than an hour ago. She tipped her head to me, then turned and gave Joanne a look that would have caused a lesser woman to spontaneously combust. Evidently, Hannah had figured out who’d sabotaged her at the auction.
“Are you enjoying the benefit, Hannah?” I asked in a sympathetic tone.
Despite her earlier outburst, I felt rather sorry for Hannah and what Joanne had done to ruin her evening. I’d never understood why people felt the need to be nasty to each other. Or call themselves weird names. Or dress up in spandex. Sometimes, I didn’t understand very much at all about life in Bigtime.
“Of course, Bella,” Hannah murmured, her eyes fixed on the sapphire. “I never stay down for long. No matter how much some people might wish otherwise.”
Joanne snorted, but Hannah pretended not to notice.
“Well, I just want to tell you again how much I ap
preciate your hard work. The exhibit wouldn’t be nearly the success it is without you,” I said, trying to smooth things over.
Hannah didn’t respond. Instead, she admired the sapphire another moment before drifting off into the crowd. She strolled over to a guy in a wheelchair, leaned down, and whispered in his ear. Nathan Nichols was his name, I believed. He did something for one of Hannah’s many companies, although I couldn’t recall exactly what.
“I can’t stand that woman,” Joanne declared, tossing her black hair over her thin shoulder. “She’s such a fake. Everyone knows what a complete bitch she is, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.”
I eyed Joanne, looking at her forty-something face, which was curiously free of wrinkles, and her full chest that didn’t quite seem to match her stick-thin body. But I didn’t say anything. We’d already had enough catfights for one night. I was just glad the two of them weren’t grappling on the floor, kicking and clawing and screaming.
Joanne and I started talking about other things, mainly when I was going to get started on the clothes I’d promised her. Eventually, she wandered off to see what Berkley was up to. I stayed in front of the sapphire, admiring its many depths and committing them to memory so I could draw the jewel later. It truly was stunning.
While I not-so-discreetly gawked, Carmen Cole came up to me.
“Bella! It’s so nice to see you,” Carmen said. A soft, Southern twang colored her voice.
I smiled at the taller woman, grateful to see that someone else had decided not to dress up. Carmen had forgone the costume theme in favor of a little black dress. Then again, your typical, little black dress was Carmen’s costume of choice for functions like these. Despite being married to billionaire Sam Sloane, Carmen still kept her day job as a society reporter for The Exposé. I also thought the simple black dresses were Carmen’s way of compensating for her superhero suit. Her silver spandex Karma Girl costume had plenty of flash to it.
“Where’s Sam?” I asked, scanning the crowd for the handsome billionaire.
“He couldn’t make it, unfortunately. Since Johnny and Fiona are taking their vacation, he had to stay at the manor and be on call tonight. Work. You know how it is.”
I grimaced. In other words, Sam was sitting in the secret underground library that functioned as the headquarters of the Fearless Five listening to the police scanner, ready to go out and battle evil. I could have thought of a thousand ways I would rather have spent an evening, but that was superheroes for you. Putting their powers and responsibilities above everything else—their jobs, their lives, their families.
My father’s face flashed before my eyes, and I felt the familiar pain of his loss. He should have been here tonight. Enjoying the exhibit. Laughing and talking and drinking with Berkley and his other friends. Encouraging me about my art. He should have been here.
He would have been here if he hadn’t gone out as Johnny Angel. If he hadn’t tried to take on Siren and Intelligal by himself. But no. He’d been hooked on the adrenaline high and spandex fumes, and he’d paid the ultimate price for it. A spurt of anger replaced my sadness. Sometimes, I was so mad at my father for getting himself killed I couldn’t think straight.
Sensing my thoughts, Carmen placed a gentle hand on my arm, but I shook it off. I liked Carmen just fine, but I didn’t want her superpowered sympathy. Not now.
“Can I get a few quotes from the woman of the hour?” Carmen asked in a kind voice, pulling her cell phone out of her purse so she could record our conversation.
I let out a long breath and nodded. It wasn’t Carmen’s fault my father was dead. Besides, as chairperson of the benefit, I still had a job to do. Hopefully, Carmen’s story would encourage people to come see the exhibit and donate even more money to the museum.
Once I gave Carmen the inside scoop she wanted, I wandered through the museum, accepting everyone’s praise and reminding them to open up their wallets, checkbooks, and trust funds. But I couldn’t quite shake off my anger at my father or my melancholy at missing him.
Once I’d worked the room for the umpteenth time, I turned to take one more look at the sapphire, hoping the sight would cheer me up. The instant my foot pivoted, I knew I was in trouble. My hair went windblown wild. My fingers sparked. And the static around me snapped tight for an instant, like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. I was about to have my bad luck. In spades.
SMACK!
I crashed into someone behind me. The champagne flew up out of my glass, splattering all over Devlin Dash. He took a step back at the jarring impact, his silver glasses teetering on the end of his nose. A golden drop of champagne rolled down one of the lenses and splashed onto my hand. That little plop of pressure sent the glass sliding from my fingers. It hit the marble floor and splintered into at least a hundred pieces.
Every eye in the room turned to the two of us. All conversation stopped. Even the music quit playing.
For a long, horrified moment, I stared at Devlin. I’d just soaked one of the wealthiest men in Bigtime with champagne in front of five hundred people. At my own benefit. Before he could write me a check.
I truly was jinxed.
Chapter Eight
To my credit, I didn’t sputter or stammer or spew out endless apologies. Didn’t cry or scream or run away in horror. Didn’t even blush. Well, not much. I’d long ago grown used to my jinx. Resigned myself to it, actually.
“Wait here,” I told Devlin. “I’ll get you some napkins. Try not to step in the glass.”
I grabbed some white linen cloths from a passing waiter and handed them to Devlin so he could wipe the alcohol off his smeared lenses. Everyone watched us a minute longer. When they realized Devlin wasn’t going to blow up at me, they returned to their drinks and conversation.
“I really am sorry,” I said. “I’m such a klutz sometimes. I hope this accident won’t change your mind about donating to the museum.”
Devlin pulled a wet sheet of paper out of the inside of his gray spacesuit costume. He didn’t even have to say anything. I took the check from him, and the soggy mess fell apart in my hands.
Devlin went to the bathroom to wash the champagne off his face while one of the waiters rushed forward to clean up the shattered glass.
The party wound down soon after that. Joanne was right. I really did know how to clear a room. Despite my earlier embarrassment, I stationed myself by the exit and thanked the society patrons for their time and generous donations.
My grandfather was among the last to leave. “It was a wonderful evening, Bella. You should be proud of yourself.”
I grimaced, thinking of Devlin Dash and his waterlogged check.
Bobby didn’t notice my sour expression. “Do you want to ride home with me in the limo?”
“No, I’ll catch a cab. I have to stay and take care of a few more things. I’ll see you there.”
Bobby’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe, maybe not. I have a date tonight.”
“Now?” I checked my silver watch. It was after two in the morning. “With whom?”
“Why, my lady friend, of course.”
“So are you finally going to tell me who she is?” I asked, scanning the remaining stragglers for a likely suspect. “Or do I have to guess?”
“Now, you know a true gentleman never kisses and tells. She’s a lovely lady, and that’s all you need to know. We’ll have dinner one night this week, I promise. Don’t wait up for me, Bella.” Grandfather leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Go home and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“Call me later!” I shouted to his retreating back.
Bobby waved his hand and walked outside. I sighed. He wouldn’t call me, and I’d spend the rest of the night sitting up and waiting for him to get home. Sometimes, watching after my grandfather was worse than trying to deal with a hormonal teenager.
Even though I was bone-tired, I spent the next hour helping the other volunteers count donations and tally up contributions. In the end, it was worth it. The benefit
had raised over five million dollars for the museum, more than enough to pay off the new wing and far beyond my cautious estimates. Grandfather was right. The benefit had been a smashing success, despite my bad-luck run-in with Devlin Dash.
*
“This is wonderful, Bella. Just wonderful.” Arthur Anders beamed. “The benefit has exceeded all my expectations. We’ve gotten enough donations to keep the museum in tip-top shape for the next three years. We’ll even be able to add some pieces I’ve had my eye on.”
“I’m glad I could help,” I said. “You know the museum has always been one of my favorite places—and favorite causes.”
We were in Arthur’s office, and he’d just put the last of the checks into his personal safe. Arthur spun the dial around on the metal door, locking it, and moved over to his executive-style chair. I sat across from him, sipping some bottled water. Hopefully, I could finish it without soaking the papers on Arthur’s antique desk. I sat six feet away from them. Just in case.
“I know, and I appreciate it, now more than ever.” Arthur leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach. “So tell me, how is your own art going, Bella? Are you still sketching?”
Of all the things we could talk about, he had to bring up my art. I sank a little lower into my chair. Once in college, I’d shown Arthur some portraits I’d drawn. Although they were well done from a mechanics standpoint, he said they didn’t have any real passion or life or enthusiasm in them. Arthur’s comments had been thoughtful and constructive and helpful, but I’d still been devastated. Completely, utterly devastated. My mentor, the man I admired, the person whose opinion mattered to lots of people, had told me my work was adequate. Merely adequate, not spectacular or noteworthy or amazing at all.