By the time we arrived, Kendra’s dress had grown to occupy more space in the limo than any of the rest of us and it was almost a relief to climb out. Nash took my arm, as if he’d been told to stand in as my date, and we walked to the entrance on the plush red carpet where photographers were stationed.
The red carpet flare was Luke’s idea. He wanted the sanctity of the masquerade with the glam of a Hollywood premier. From the smiles, the social media postings, and the gushing from guests, it looked as if he’d succeeded.
Nash and I posed for a few pictures. The first was a normal, stand side by side pose. The next few were a little more silly. Nash even dipped me in a semi-romantic kind of pose. I laughed and pushed him back a little. “You definitely have a death wish.”
He flashed his brilliant smile showing a hint of fangs. “Jax knows me better than that. He told me to make sure you are safe and have fun. So we’re having fun. While it lasts.”
His latter statement was how I felt. The fear that this night was going to end badly churned deep in my soul.
The interior of Luke’s gallery had been transformed to an homage to twenties Hollywood. Gold lamé tablecloths, a sparkling marquis on one wall, up-lit movie posters, all added to the ambiance Luke had managed to create. It was like stepping back in time, and he was the belle of the ball. Taking the praise. Adulating in the adoration. This was my brother in his glory. His finest hour. His big moment.
And I was so proud of him and happy that he was on cloud nine.
There was a well-coiffed pompadoured Elvis with a pair of blue suede shoes and mask to match, a Marilyn Monroe in her platinum wig and platform heels. There were costumes and masks, ball gowns and veils, tuxedos and masks. The costumed characters were part of the décor hired by Luke.
As Nash and I took our first stroll around the room, he kept his hand at the small of my back, much the same as Jax did when we went anywhere together. “Did he tell you to stick to me like glue?”
Nash grinned down, nodded once then looked away. “Yes, but a man would be lucky to be by the side of such a beautiful woman all night long.”
“Did he tell you to say that, too?” It sounded like something Jax would say.
Nash chuckled. “You already know him so well.”
We stopped in front of the silent auction table. Each item had an iPad in front where the bids would be entered. It was more efficient than the former bid in a basket style of auction that required someone to tally said bids. There was less margin of error this way, and Luke had insisted.
Nash picked up the tablet in front of a painting of a landscape—could have been Monet, but wasn’t—and bid twenty grand. A two with four zeros behind it. Twenty-thousand American dollars.
“Nash?” I gasped.
He glanced at me. “Yes?”
“If you win that painting, they’re going to expect you to pay twenty-thousand dollars.”
He nodded. “I’m aware.”
“You have twenty thousand dollars, liquid?”
He chuckled and patted my head which should’ve been insulting but for whatever reason wasn’t. “Yes, but I’m bidding with Jax’s money.”
I nodded. “Oh.” And then it hit me. “Jax’s money?” I didn’t know a lot about art, but I knew that this painting wasn’t worth twenty grand. “You spent twenty grand of Jax’s money on a finger painting of some lily pads?”
His smile was the kind that said he’d expected—had probably been told to expect—this reaction. “It’s only money, Hailey. Jax has had plenty of years to build a…let’s call it a nest egg.”
“Nest egg.” I couldn’t do more than parrot his words.
“Nest egg.” He moved us along to another table. “He told me to find something and bid twenty thousand on it.”
I nodded, not because it made sense, but because it wasn’t my money. I had no claim to stake.
He glanced at a woman in a silver dress with sequins. “She looks a bit like a mirror ball.” He did the John Travolta finger point and pose. A second or so later, he nodded to a guy who, like Jordan, hadn’t quite mastered the art of the comb-over. “Does no one spend the money for toupees anymore?”
Some of his comments made me laugh, sometimes behind my hand because I felt like I’d be going straight to hell.
There was a woman with a brick colored dress with sleeves that started up by her cheeks and rounded down to her shoulders so it looked as if her head was captured inside the sleeves. She resembled a dilophosaurus in red. I knew the specific name because I’d wanted to be a paleontologist once upon a time. Some things stuck.
“Someone escaped Jurassic Park.” He was a sniper, and no one was safe. When she walked up, he made a caw caw sound and flapped his arms behind her back.
“You must be Hailey Whitfield,” she said in a regal voice.
I had no idea who she was or how she knew me, or how she’d managed to get into that dress. I wanted to investigate to see what held those sleeves so rigid.
Eesh, I might’ve been a bit distracted while she spoke. Missed a question while my mind ran through a list of possibilities. It could’ve been wired. Or some kind of piping—the plumbing kind not the sewing kind—or boning, this time the fabric kind.
“Ms. Whitfield.” The sternness in her tone made sense as it finally registered that she was the Director of Schools for all of Philly.
Her sleeves did more to obscure her face than her mask. She was obviously beautiful—porcelain skin, features I couldn’t find a better word for than pleasant, full lips, and a nose that probably cost her as much as Nash’s bid of Jax’s money. She had a softness about her that belied her sternness of tone.
“I’m sorry. I was admiring your dress.” And dying to get a feel for the arc on one of those sleeves.
“It’s a Mendez. I got it at a celebrity auction.” Her smile spread across her face. “That’s where I got the idea for this.”
Ohhhh, Luke was going to maim her if he found out she was taking credit for his idea. “The glamor of Hollywood right here in Philly.” She held out her hand. “Anyway, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
I smiled and shook her hand. “You’re Linda Hull. I’ve read so many good things about your work. The amount of personal care you put into your job.” She wasn’t just revered, she was loved. Adored, by all of Philadelphia.
“And you’re cleaning up the streets of Philadelphia and the surrounding area.” She smiled, and we finally stopped shaking hands.
“I’m doing what I can.” I was about to tell her about our team of Bond Girls because I was proud of the job we did, but she patted my shoulder.
“I have to make a speech, but let’s talk later.” She turned before I could answer. Then she was up on the dais, mask on the podium beside her written speech. The gurgle of voices in the room faded to silence as people took their seats. “Thank you all for coming here. I thank you. The children of Philadelphia thank you.”
She waited a moment for the light applause. “When I took this job”—she’d campaigned her butt off to win—“I knew this school system needed an overhaul. It needed to be more child-focused with a stronger curriculum that is tailored to the children.” She went on for a few minutes about a school system that she revamped—yup, she used that word—and that she, in her role as supreme educator—used that one, too. She was loved, but she was cocky—happily oversaw and directed, and by directed she meant insisting that the local school boards implement her plan of action.
I stopped listening, because this was more of a reelection campaign than it was a fund raising let’s support the kiddos speech.
Instead, I tried to scan the room, to feel for any ill intent, bad tidings, but I didn’t have that kind of power. I wondered if Kendra could create a spell…hmm. I looked around for her. I checked every place setting and she was nowhere to be seen.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a red flag started blowing in the breeze, but I ignored it and continued to glance around for my friend.