Bonnie recoiled. ‘Definitely not that one.’
Bonnie had never known why Mom had painted this particular one. It was Uncle Oswald, through and through, but not his magic – he had no magic as far as she knew – but rather a representation of how Mom saw his aura. Why paint such an unsettling brown? Why let it live on for ever on a canvas?
And yet it was one of Mom’s paintings. Bonnie couldn’t just throw it away or hide it. Ithadlived for a while above the downstairs toilet, until the patrons had complained of feeling ill while peeing.
Theo tapped a finger against the painting’s frame. ‘I guess the value of a piece of art is in the eye of the beholder. Or the gallery owner.’
Bonnie chuckled. She was liking this new addition to their town. He was hot, if a bit acerbic.
‘That’s enough art criticism for now,’ she said, leading him up to the second floor. She pushed open the door to the private events room, which was being prepared for an engagement party being hosted tomorrow.
‘Congratulations?’ mused Theo. ‘It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?’
‘I would’ve given you your own space, but Devon and Amanda have had a save the date for months. And I’d rather risk your ire than theirs.’
‘You say that, but I’m going to leave a one-star review admonishing you for the lack of personal attention.’
‘Should’ve given me more notice you were moving to town, then.’
‘Next time. Wow, vintage.’
Beneath all the balloons and streamers, the room was rich with antique wood from the local mill, and stained-glass windows crafted by the former hippie artist lover of Mom’s best friend Sabine. Bonnie loved every inch of it, and never could resist showing it off: the massive hanging light fixture sourced from a factory up in Maine, the higgledy-piggledy hammered-tin ceiling, the grooved floorboards that had been loved, and abused, by generations of high heels and rolling carts.
‘Really cool space though. This is all yours?’ Theo brushed his fingers over a retro light switch. Bonnie didn’t blame him. She fiddled with the brass toggles every time she came in as well. Although they did kind of look like boobs, now that she thought of it. Was Theo a boobs man? Bonnie hoisted hers up in her bra, even though it was already doing a fair bit of hoisting. There was more suspension going on here than in your typical garage door.
‘Since about four months ago. But this place has been an institution since before I was a twinkle in my mom’s eye.’
‘Your dad’s, don’t you mean?’
Bonnie shook her head. ‘Mom raised us. If my dad didn’t have the good sense to stick around to raise a human being as excellent as I am, I don’t want anything to do with him.’
‘Noted. It’s good to have boundaries. Trust me.’ Theo looked as though he were about to add something, but changed his mind. Bonnie leaned suggestively against therailing, inviting him to make the inevitable move. And yet, much to Bonnie’s utter confusion, he did not.
Usually by now, especially after one of Bonnie’s extremely strong drinks, a guy would be all over her. Or if not then at least in her personal space. He’d certainly be pressing further about the third level of the building, which wasn’tyeta proper apartment, but could do in a pinch if you weren’t too concerned about splinters or asbestos. It was still better than the Flamingo Room back at the house, from which many a gentleman caller had done the walk of shame at five in the morning before Effie, always an early riser, started knocking on the door and asking whether Bonnie had heard the poltergeist banging away last night.
‘Should we...head downstairs?’ suggested Theo. ‘I’m worried that if I get much deeper into this Old Fashioned I’ll trip over the diamond ring piñata or stumble into a balloon display that someone’s definitely spent a solid day working on.’
Bonnie tried not to frown. Was he immune to her charms? This was not how things worked.
Her wrists were growing warm and she could feel magic sparking inside her. Her wayward, infuriating magic was the only thing in her life other than Effie that refused to bend to her bidding. Maybe this time it would do what she intended it to.
C’mon, Mom, she thought, focusing on the swirling paintings in the hallway, the lilac patterns twirling and flaring like smoke.Help me out here with some mood lighting.
Bonnie’s wrists glowed lavender beneath her tattoos, and magic crackled from her fingers. Not towards the light fixture as she’d hoped, but rather in the direction of the balloon display, popping each one in rapid turn, like a series of rubbery firecrackers.
Then, in a horrifying cascade of dominoes, the candles lying on the table next to the balloon display spontaneously caughtfire, in turn setting alight the paper tablecloth. Acrid smoke filled the air as the smoke alarm started shrieking like a banshee.
Theo sprang into action.
‘Shit!’ he exclaimed. He grabbed a fire extinguisher and pulled the pin, spraying foam all around the room – including over Bonnie, whose brand-new sequinned dress would never be the same.
Shit indeed, she thought, staring down at her ruined ensemble. She had planned on returning it tomorrow and exchanging it for a fresh dress to wear the next night. But that was hardly going to happen now. And her hair, she thought, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored edging of one of the leadlight windows. She’d curled it twice, for this?
‘Tissue?’ Theo grabbed a saturated napkin from a stack that had been sitting next to an array of paper plates, ready to be used for cake. Not for horrendous, magically precipitated wardrobe malfunctions.
‘No, no, I’m good,’ said Bonnie with a brave smile. ‘Luckily the shaving foam convention is coming to town on Sunday. I’ll be right on trend.’
‘You can have my jacket.’ Theo doffed it and held it out. She hesitated, then accepted it gratefully.
