Page 4 of Two’s A Charm

Oh goddess, they were going to scare him right back to the city.

‘Do you need rescuing there?’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ Theo turned, his brows furrowed over his emerald eyes. Jensen Ackles’ eyes, thought Bonnie, who’d watched Supernatural an unhealthy number of times. But that was something that would forever remain in the diary she kept under her mattress.

‘How about a tour?’

Theo looked suspiciously as though this was the last thing in the world he wanted. ‘Um, sure.’

Bonnie shot him an irresistible grin, then invoked her murder weapon. A curl of hair twisted around her perfectly manicured finger.

Theo seemed to falter. Success.

With a well-practised Marilyn Monroe sway to her hips, Bonnie walked Theo through her tour of The Silver Slipper.

‘Downstairs is pretty self-explanatory,’ she said, also evoking Marilyn’s breathy way of speaking for good measure.

‘Amazing cocktails, a solid beer and wine list, darts – not my choice, but it was a contingency when I bought the place. Through this door we have the pool table and pinball machines. You should see the lines for those after about 10 p.m. They single-handedly pay the staff.’

‘You pay your staff in quarters?’

‘Sure, it’s how we do things here.’

Theo frowned, as though he wasn’t sure if she was serious.

This, thought Bonnie, was one of the hardest parts of looking a certain way.

Guys never expected you to be funny. In fact, they never expected you to be anything else, really.

Personally, Bonnie thought that her sense of humour was one of the best things she had going for her.

She’d spent a lot of time cultivating it to survive life with Effie.

‘Ready for some stairs?’ She gave him an assessing up-and-down look. He passed with buff, flying colours. ‘You look like you can handle them.’

Bonnie grabbed the banister, a glorious knot of antique wood studded with a brass sculpture of a griffin, and led Theo upstairs.

‘Interesting art,’ he mused, taking in the framed paintings that covered the walls in an explosion of abstract colour – mostly greens, golds and purples, the colours of their family magic, their auras.

‘My mom painted them,’ said Bonnie, trying to suppress the hesitation in her voice that always threatened to arise every time she brought up her mother.

She rubbed at her tattooed wrist, where a floral explosion of lilies and tulips hid the purple marks that flared beneath her skin when she drew upon her magic.

She’d raced out to Clock Heart Tattoos the day she turned eighteen, desperate to hide the thing that made her different from everyone else.

And not even in a good way; not like Effie’s magic, which actually did what her sister asked.

Bonnie, meanwhile, was lucky if she could charm the wrinkles out of a shirt or bespell that thing on the top shelf within reaching range.

More often than not, this would result in scorch marks on said shirt or that thing on the top shelf smashing on the floor. Magic was an imprecise art.

‘This one’s my favourite,’ she said, pausing before a small canvas where swirls of green, gold and purple all melded together in a gorgeous, calming swirl.

Lyra, Effie and Bonnie’s magic, all together as equals.

It made Bonnie think of better times, when the three of them had been inseparable, an arm-in-arm gang of joy and daisy crowns and pizza so deep-dish it might as well be lasagne, and black-and-white movie marathons that they’d talked over, inventing their own terrible dialogue.

Of before Effie had abruptly distanced herself when Bonnie had turned fourteen, shutting her out like there was something wrong with her, like she was.

.. unserious . Of before Mom’s death had ripped their lives in two, leaving something too painful to even consider in its wake.

Something that Bonnie had done her best to plaster over with endless activities and events and Boss Babe goals.

Theo folded his muscular arms, contemplating. He’d clearly realized that the vibes were suddenly off and was trying to get things back on track. ‘Not this weird brownish one over here?’

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. It had lived 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 the railing, 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’t yet a 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 pinata 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 caught fire, 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.

‘Do you mind if I roll up the sleeves?’ The jacket arms were so long that she felt like one of the sky dancers outside the local car dealership.

‘Roll away. And let me pay for the dry cleaning. I feel terrible.’ He did indeed sound mortified. Rightly so, especially because mortification suited him. The flush brought out his cheekbones, and the way he was cringing in his tight shirt highlighted the outline of his biceps.

‘Don’t, don’t. These things happen,’ she said airily. ‘Especially owning a place like this. We like to keep things interesting. If you stop by tomorrow, you might spot me in a chicken costume. Or dancing on the bar.’

‘Careful, I hear health and safety frowns on that.’

‘Could you turn around for a moment?’

Bonnie made a twirling motion with her finger, indicating that Theo should avert his eyes.

Then, keeping his jacket on, she wriggled out of her dress, grateful that there hadn’t been much to it in the first place.

It hardly took being a magician to worm your way out of some spaghetti straps and a handkerchief’s-worth of stretchy fabric.

‘All right. You can turn back now.’

‘Oh,’ said Theo. ‘Um.’

‘Just call me Houdini!’

Scraping her hair back into a slightly foamy ponytail, Bonnie led Theo back downstairs, where things were starting to get rambunctious.

Hannah, spying Bonnie’s dishevelled appearance and change of outfit, wasted no time in jumping to conclusions. ‘Look at you .’

Alana, who’d been helping Bobby out behind the bar, thoughtfully tapped a sprig of mint to her cheek. ‘I see you’ve made our guest welcome.’

Kirsty’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Bonnie inwardly preened. She loved Kirsty, she did. But the girl was so competitive. It was refreshing to put her in her place, which Bonnie strove to do at least once every day. It was what made a healthy relationship, of course.

And then there was Bobby. Dear, sweet, innocent Bobby.

Bobby, who never turned her in for cheating during every pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game of their childhood.

Who’d happily corroborated the excuses she fabricated for the countless exams she’d missed during high school.

Who, over the years, had escorted no fewer than three possums out of their house after Bonnie had left the back door propped open during her late-night exploits.

What would she do without him?

Get in a lot more trouble, probably.

‘Everything all right, Bon?’ Bobby hurried out from behind the counter, still polishing the glass he’d been cleaning. ‘I thought I heard the fire alarm, but these three said it was just figurative smoke.’

‘ Rawr ,’ purred Hannah, making a clawing motion with her extremely sharp, glittery nails.

‘More than fine.’ Bonnie grabbed an Old Fashioned off the counter – Alana was a solid helper – then passed it to Theo with a wink. ‘Isn’t that so?’