Karma Girl

by Jennifer Estep

  “My handsome date is Johnny Bulluci.” I reached over and put my hand on top of Johnny’s, staking my claim for the evening.

  His warm thumb drew lazy circles on the back of my hand. I looked up. Johnny’s eyes were on me, not Erica. Score another one for Johnny Bulluci. I loved attentive men.

  “Care if I join you?” Erica asked.

  “Actually, we were right in the middle of a very intense, very private discussion. We don’t really feel like company tonight. Sorry, Erica. I’m sure you understand.”

  A tight, annoyed smile curved Erica’s oversized lips, and I knew she wanted to wrap her purse strap around my throat and strangle me with it. But her face smoothed over after only a few seconds. Nothing rattled her for long.

  “Of course, Fiona.” Erica drew a small piece of paper out of her handbag. “Just let me leave my card with Johnny. In case he ever gets tired of...well, whatever.” She licked her lips and gave him her best I’m-so-slutty-I’ll-do-you-under-the-table stare.

  I snatched Erica’s card out of her hands before Johnny could even reach for it and tore it into pieces. “So sorry, Erica. The only number Johnny needs to remember tonight and for the foreseeable future is mine.”

  Erica’s mouth opened and closed. She seemed shocked that someone would spoil her fun when she was trying to be cute and coy and seductive. Erica turned on her heel and stalked off. I watched her sashay over to the bar, where Kelly Caleb, another SNN reporter, perched on a round stool.

  The two of them couldn’t have been more different. While Erica’s barely there clothes screamed trashy whore, Kelly wore a navy dress with a modest neckline that brushed the tops of her ankles. Kelly’s blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face was free of the heavy makeup she wore on television. Erica had enough lipstick and eyeliner on to paint a clown’s face.

  Erica snapped her fingers, and the bartender rushed to get her a drink. Erica turned to Kelly, gesturing wildly and no doubt saying all sorts of horrid things about me. Kelly’s gaze met mine, and her eye twitched, almost in a wink. The blond woman’s wide lips quivered, as though she was trying not to laugh at Erica’s tirade.

  I didn’t particularly care for Kelly either. She was, after all, a reporter and thus the enemy, but I waved at her and smiled. Erica might think that she was the baddest bitch in the room, but she had nothing on me. I was Fiona Fine, for crying out loud. I’d been playing the society game in Bigtime before she’d even thought about having fat stuffed in her lips or saline in her breasts.

  “Well that was interesting.” Johnny leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I take it she’s not a friend of yours.”

  “I can’t stand that woman. Something about her just rubs me the wrong way.” Actually, it was everything about her.

  “Well, I’m glad you got rid of her. You’re the one I asked to dinner, not her.”

  Johnny’s eyes met mine. My heart fluttered.

  Our food arrived, and we spent the next half hour eating, talking, and laughing. Johnny Bulluci had a teasing, devilish sense of humor I found refreshing after all the posing, pretentious playboys that populated the Bigtime society scene. He was frank, honest, and not above telling humiliating stories about himself. I particularly enjoyed the one about him stealing his father’s car when he was thirteen and taking Bella to ride on the carousel in Paradise Park. And he had the most fantastic laugh, warm and throaty and deep. It made me smile, something I hadn’t done much of in a very long time.

  The only problem was that I polished off my grilled chicken, vegetables, a side salad, and half a bottle of wine before Johnny was even halfway done with his steak, baked potato, and cheddar cheese soup. And he didn’t seem too interested in his food. He’d put his fork down ten minutes ago and was listening intently to everything I said. Now, I didn’t really mind that, as it was always nice to be the center of attention, especially when that attention was coming from a handsome man. But ignoring a black-pepper-seasoned steak from Quicke’s? That was just criminal.

  “So, are you going to eat that?” I asked, eyeing his half-finished steak.

  Johnny stared at the meat, then at me. My stomach chose that moment to let out an ominous rumble. Mount St. Fiera needed some fuel. I cringed. My enormous appetite and related bodily functions were the only things that ever really embarrassed me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t have any lunch today.” Lame, but it was the only excuse I could think of.

  Johnny laughed and pushed his plate over to me. “I don’t mind. I like a woman with a healthy appetite.”

  Healthy appetite? Please. If he only knew.

  I polished off Johnny’s steak, a basket of sourdough rolls, and an enormous chocolate soufflé.

  “Didn’t have lunch, eh?” Johnny asked, amused by the stacks of plates, glasses, and silverware littering the table.

  “Or breakfast either,” I lied.

  We finished with our meal. Johnny insisted on paying, which I found to be very old-fashioned and charming. I might be a modern, liberated woman, but it was nice to be treated to an evening out every now and again, especially since my big hunger pangs led to so many big bills. It was another point in his favor.

  Once the check was squared away, we went out through the restaurant’s side exit. We stood there in the warm twilight, listening to the cheery carousel music from the park. Now came the tricky part of the evening. Did I really want to invite Johnny back to my apartment? Sure, we’d made out at the wedding and shared a steamy kiss earlier this evening, but did I want to go the rest of the way? Was I ready to do that? Especially with someone I’d known only two days? It had seemed like a terrific idea at the wedding, but now, I wasn’t so sure.

  Oh, I liked sex, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. I’d had my share of ill-advised, torrid affairs in college, including a couple of one-night stands. But with Travis, sex had come to mean something else entirely. It had been making love, sharing my body with someone who cared about me as much as I cared about him. Not to mention the fact that we’d been together five years. I wasn’t sure I knew how to be with anybody else. My hand crept to my engagement ring. Or if I even wanted to, sex or no sex. There was always self-fulfillment, so to speak.

  “How about a stroll through the park?” Johnny suggested.

  “That’d be nice,” I said, relieved I wouldn’t have to make a decision just yet.

  We crossed the street and entered Paradise Park, one of Bigtime’s biggest tourist attractions. The park featured just about every carnival ride and game in the known universe. A carousel, Ferris wheel, ring tosses, water guns, strength tests. Even now, after nine in the evening, thousands of people crowded into the park to eat funnel cakes, get dizzy and sick on the spinning rides, and try to win overpriced stuffed animals for their honeys.

  The air smelled of popcorn and grease. Still hungry, I got the biggest cone of cherry-flavored cotton candy the vendor had. The pure, spun sugar melted on my tongue and quieted my stomach. There was nothing better than sugar for a quick boost of energy. It was why I kept an emergency stash of candy bars in my desk at work.

  Johnny and I wandered arm-in-arm through the park, just another couple taking in the sights and sounds. To my surprise, he seemed content to stroll along the gum-littered pavement alongside the harried parents, shrieking children, and bawdy vendors. All the other men on the society circuit would have blown up like a balloon if they so much as scuffed their polished wingtips. They would have sneered in disdain at the noisy families and demanded that the park be closed down just for their visit. Not Johnny.

  “You know, this doesn’t exactly strike me as your kind of scene,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “From all appearances, you seem to be just another rich, spoiled playboy.” Subtlety was another area where I was lacking. “Yet here you are walking through a park instead of some posh art gallery.”

  “Oh, I’m all of those things,” Johnny said. “Rich, spoiled, a playboy. But I happen
to like parks. Posh art galleries are so boring. Besides, you’re one to talk.”

  “Oh?”

  “You seem...different from the other women I’ve met in Bigtime,” he said.

  “Different? Different how?”

  He shrugged. “Like you’ve got more on your mind than what you’re going to wear to the latest society bash. Sometimes, you look almost...sad.”

  Sad? My cool, haughty mask must be slipping. “Sad?” I forced myself to laugh. “I’m a fabulously wealthy woman who designs fabulous clothes. What do I have to be sad about?” Just because my fiancé had been murdered by ubervillains was no reason to feel blue. Yeah right.

  Johnny stared at me with his gorgeous green eyes. “I don’t know. But I can see it.”

  I didn’t respond.

  Johnny bought two tickets for the Ferris wheel. We climbed on board and sailed up into the night sky. We went round and round and up and down. Finally, the ride stopped to let the lovers on board have a little private time with each other. Our cart was near the top of the ride, giving us a spectacular view of the park and the city lights. Everything looked fresh and clean from this height, and the lights resembled twinkling, colored stars that had fallen from the sky.

  “It’s just as beautiful as I remember,” Johnny said. “My father, James, used to bring Bella and me here at least once a week to ride the carousel and visit the animals in the zoo.” A sad, wistful tone crept into his voice.

  I remembered what Joanne James had said about Bella’s father dying. “He passed away recently, didn’t he? Your father.”

  Johnny’s eyes hardened. “He was murdered. A couple months ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I put a hand on his arm. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love so brutally.”

  “Is that why you wear an engagement ring, even though there’s no fiancé around?”

  Surprised, my thumb sparked. I clenched my fist to keep it from igniting. “How do you know that?”

  “I asked around. There’s no fiancé or boyfriend in the picture. In fact, no one even knows who you were engaged to, according to Bella.”

  I dropped my hand from his arm and twisted the ring around on my finger. Nobody had known about my engagement to Travis because we’d thought it would be safer that way. But he’d still died. Travis deserved better than to remain some anonymous, faceless figure from my past.

  “I was engaged to a wonderful man. His name was Travis. He was murdered too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Johnny said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s good to talk about him. My friends are afraid to ask me about him, to even mention his name. They don’t want to stir up bad memories.”

  Johnny put his arm around me, and I leaned into him. His shoulder felt warm and solid under my cheek. “Tell me about him, Fiona. Tell me about Travis.”

  So I did. I told him how kind and caring Travis was, how much I loved him, our plans and hopes and dreams. The only thing I left out was our nighttime occupation as Bigtime’s resident superheroes and how it had led to his death.

  “What happened to the person who killed him?” Johnny asked when I wound down.

  The image of Malefica plunging into a vat of radioactive goo flashed through my mind. “Oh, she got what she deserved in the end. What about your father? What was he like?”

  “He was a lot like your Travis. Kind, caring, considerate. He was a wonderful father. The only thing we ever argued about was—” Johnny cut off his words.

  “Was what?”

  He hesitated. “My taking over part of...the family business.”

  “I thought you’d done that already.”

  “Most of it, yes. But there was one area I wasn’t particularly interested in. That’s where my father and I disagreed. In fact, I hung up on him the last time we talked about it. It was the last time I ever spoke to him.” Sadness and guilt tightened his handsome face.

  I squeezed his hand. “Have the police caught the person responsible for his death?”

  “The police are useless. They can’t do anything about it. But I can. And I will. The people responsible are going to pay. More than they ever dreamed of.” The vehemence in his voice startled me. His eyes glittered with anger and a deadly promise.

  Johnny turned to me, and some of the anger melted away. “But let’s think about happier things. Here we are stuck on top of a Ferris wheel, the whole city at our feet. It would be a shame to let the view go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

  Johnny pulled me toward him. His eyes glowed like a lion’s in the twilight, illuminating the chiseled planes of his face. My heart quickened. My lips parted. I leaned forward. He did the same. And then—

  My cell phone rang.

  Chapter Seven

  We stared at each other, frozen in an almost-kiss. My phone kept ringing out the old song “Light My Fire,” by The Doors. The loud, blaring rock tune could mean only one thing. Fiera was needed. My desire to kiss Johnny warred with my duty and responsibilities as a superhero. It was a short, tough battle, but duty won out. Drat. Why did my father have to raise me to always do the right thing?

  “Please excuse me.” I dug through my purse, grabbed my phone, looked at the caller ID, and tapped the screen. “This better be good, Henry.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Fiona, but we’ve got a tip on a possible location for Siren and Intelligal. The chief wants you here ASAP. We’re going to go after them and see if we can shut them down.”

  I was about to respond when Johnny’s phone started to ring. I recognized the tune as “I Won’t Back Down,” by Tom Petty. He gave me a sheepish grin and answered the call. Johnny listened for a moment, then turned away from me and started speaking in a low, hushed voice.

  I focused on Henry. “All right, I’ll be there as soon as I can. But tell the chief that he’s going to pull one of my shifts for interrupting my date.” Sometimes, I wondered whether my father used his psychic radar to monitor me a little too closely, especially now that Travis was gone.

  “You’re out on a date? That’s wonderful, Fiona!” I could almost see Henry beaming at me through the phone. “It’s about time you started dating again. Are you having a good time? Did he take you somewhere nice? He should try to make a good impression on the first date. Did he bring you flowers? Or chocolates?”

  I rolled my eyes. Ever since he’d hooked up with Lulu, Henry thought he knew a thing or two about love. Like most men, the computer geek would be forever clueless.

  “He made a terrific impression. See you soon.” I hung up.

  Johnny finished his call and turned to me.

  “That was Henry. He…keeps an eye on the store for me at night. There’s a problem with one of my suppliers. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut the evening short and go deal with it.”

  Johnny shook his head. “This seems to be the night for emergencies. Bella called. One of my business managers is concerned about a potential investor. Seems he wants to back out of a previously negotiated deal. I’m afraid I have to leave as well.” Regret tinged his voice, as though he didn’t want the evening to end.

  I didn’t either. To my surprise, I’d been having a wonderful time, memories of Travis and all. There was more to Johnny Bulluci than just a handsome face and hard body. A lot more. I wanted to see him again. Soon. So, I told him.

  “I’d like to see you again too, Fiona. Why don’t we meet up Monday night?” Johnny asked. “Unfortunately, I have to work this weekend, or I would suggest we get together sooner.”

  Tonight was Thursday. Monday, Monday. I flipped through my mental calendar. Work in the morning, followed by an afternoon of PR as Fiera, then a benefit that night.

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I have to attend the annual fundraiser for the Bigtime Observatory. It’ll be so boring, all those scientific, astronomer types talking about star charts and aliens and whatnot, but I already sent in my RSVP.”

  In addition to always doing my duty as a superhero, my father h
ad also drilled it into my head how important it was to keep the promises I made, no matter how small or trivial they might seem. But that didn’t mean I still couldn’t have some fun with Johnny.

  “You could meet me there, and we could sneak out afterwards,” I suggested.

  “It’s a date.”

  He grinned, and my heart fluttered. The man had one hell of a smile. And great eyes. And a terrific body. And... The list went on for quite a while.

  “So I guess this is good night,” Johnny said.

  “I guess so.”

  I stared into Johnny’s eyes. Then, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He put his arms around me and pulled me closer. This kiss wasn’t like the others. Oh, it was still hot and passionate. But there was a gentle sweetness to it, a sense of letting down our cool, guarded, society façades. The rich, charming playboy and the bitchy fashion designer were getting to know each other, faults and all. The Ferris wheel jerked and began to drift downward. We kissed until the ride stopped.

  *

  I had Johnny drop me off outside my store to keep up appearances. I waited until the limo’s taillights disappeared, hailed a cab, and went back to my apartment to get my convertible.

  Twenty minutes later, I got off the interstate and turned onto a pothole-filled dirt road that seemed to end in the middle of the woods. I kept my foot on the gas, plunging the car into a dark stand of pine trees. My tires fell into a well-worn track, and my headlights bounced off a rock wall up ahead. I flicked them on and off five times in rapid succession. The wall slid aside, and I drove into a lighted tunnel, which stretched out for another mile before expanding into an underground garage.

  The garage, like the rest of the underground Fearless Five compound, was hollowed out of the extensive network of caverns beneath Sublime. Wrenches, screwdrivers, and other tools lined the garage walls, along with cans of oil, wires, and other automotive parts. Five black vans huddled together inside the open space. They were our preferred mode of transportation when we went out into the city at night to fight crime and help with natural disasters. The vans resembled the one from the old A-Team television show, only the F5 vehicles had more computer equipment and electronic gizmos stuffed inside them than collagen in Erica Songe’s pouty lips. Thanks to Sam’s money and Henry’s technological genius, the vans were also bullet-, bomb-, and ubervillainproof.