The Best Friend's Magical Billionaire

Sarah Electric. That’s what it was. The jolt, the frisson of energy when two souls destined to be together touched for the very first time. Sparks, sizzles. Absolute bliss. I’d read about that thrilling sensation so often in romance novels, I should have been ready for it when it finally happened to me. The shock, the rush, the flash— Huh. None of those books had mentioned a blue flash of light. Shivers racing down my spine though the gourmet grocery was warm, I glanced around at the other shoppers languishing in the stalled checkout line. No one seemed to have noticed. All of their attention was either on the harried cashier or their phones, their faces sagging with boredom or pinched with the frustration of a delay on the first Friday in December. You’re just imagining things again, Sarah, I decided. Until a furtive peek at the man responsible for that sizzling spark showed me a narrowed gaze and clenched jaw. I knew it. He’d felt it, too. So why did he seem so angry about it? I’d only meant to be kind, gently touching his shoulder when a moment ago he’d cut our friendly chat to scowl at the latest issue of Hey! as though personally offended. I glanced in the same direction. Oh, of course. Avery. My best friend’s photograph was dead-centre on the front page. ORPHANED AND ALONE: Reeling from her mother’s death and her recent breakup, what will Canada’s Sweetheart do now? The picture was a bad one, snapped by paparazzi at the funeral last week. A tear-streaked Avery stood alone before the lowering casket, the singer at her most beautiful and most heartbreaking. Of course they focused the camera on her, blurring out those of us who’d stood beside her to amp up the drama. Not that Avery hadn’t been hurting, badly, but to be exploited like that at her lowest moment? Damn piranhas. No one had expected Elaine Mack’s heart attack. We thought she was pretty healthy for a sixty-year-old, yet the down-to-earth woman who’d been a foundation of strength and encouragement for her daughter—and to be honest, me as well—had died in an instant. The tabloid had it right: Avery was still in shock. Truth be told, so was I. When cancer took my own mother in the last year of high school, Elaine had stepped in and made me feel a part of their family. That’s another reason tonight had to be a success. The fundraiser gala happening this evening had been scheduled for months, but now it meant something more. Avery needed to get her mind off things. Raising money for disadvantaged kids always brought a smile to her face the way her success in the music industry didn’t. And as her best friend and charity coordinator, it was my job to make that happen. Which I was currently failing at, miserably. Serves me right for going with the cheapest caterer in Vancouver. Super-Ready-Qwik Event Cuisine definitely wasn’t super, definitely wasn’t ready, and sure as heck wasn’t quick. The delivery early this afternoon arrived hours late and missing half of what I’d ordered. Hence why I was stuck in the fancy, overpriced supermarket less than four hours before the gala began, trying to rectify my mistake while there was still time. At least there was a hot guy to chat with. Or there had been, until we touched and he chose to ghost me while still standing two feet away. I pushed through my confusion to fill the suddenly-awkward silence. “Awful, isn’t it?” I remarked. “The things some tabloids will print, just for more sales.” I still didn’t know why that article would upset this stranger of all people—in worn jeans, heavy steel toes, and a long-sleeved flannel shirt; his aroma a heady one of fresh soil, sawdust, and sweat, he sure didn’t look like the sort to care about a pop star. His messy blond hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck as though he’d been slack about cutting it, and that three-day stubble on his square jaw spoke of a man in a rush. The kind of man I wouldn’t mind getting to know better, if things weren’t how they were. He sure didn’t seem like someone who had any interest in Avery Mack, whose soulful songs had shot her to the top of the charts the summer after high school and kept her there in the seven years since. Our lives changed a lot after graduation, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” the man grunted at last, his grip tightening on the things in his hands. Wow. That was a far cry from his light teasing of less than a minute before. He’d noticed my cart piled high with finger foods, joked about the party he thought I was throwing, and then I’d had to gently dodge his flirtatious hints at gaining an invitation. Cute he may have been, but even if tickets hadn’t sold out, I seriously doubted a tradesman like him could afford to attend. As if you look any better. In black yoga pants and a t-shirt, I’d been in my own rush. Stupid unreliable caterers. I’d stuffed my feet into my Sketchers and tossed on a hoodie before rushing out the door. I hadn’t even bothered with makeup, barely taking time to pull back my silky black hair with a scrunchie. For an emergency grocery run, my honey-brown eyes and dark complexion would have to do their own work. Damn, Sarah. I glanced away and took a breath. This is not the time to find a man. Assuming he’d even been interested. Assuming he wanted a woman with my generous curves. Assuming it would work in the first place. What can I say? My best friend was a superstar. Finding someone interested in me and not as a shortcut to Avery’s fame was practically impossible. Still, it didn’t hurt to look. Yet when I flicked my gaze back to him, all I saw in his eyes was sadness. Before I could consider it further, the line began to move. Another glance at the things in his hands, and I did a double-take. A case of soda. A sandwich from the deli—and a bouquet of pink roses. Dangit, he was taken. Well, there was an instant cold shower. Stupid me. Should have been paying better attention. So either he was the world’s biggest jerk for hitting on me, or I’d only imagined he’d been flirting in the first place. Maybe both. Was I really that desperate? And why wasn’t he in the express line? After what felt like an eternity, the cart in front of me was nearly checked out. The cashier shot me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. The debit machine’s been acting up all afternoon.” I nodded in sympathy, then glanced again at the stranger’s scant armful. “Listen, I’ve got a lot of stuff here. Do you want to go in front of me?” Might as well be kind—and get the too hot and way too unavailable man out of my presence, fast. He glanced at his things, then gave a shrug. “I’ve waited this long. You get to your party.” “Please.” I lay one hand on his arm, motioning with the other for him to go ahead of me. “I insist.” Then I withdrew my hand quickly, blushing. Maybe Avery was right. Maybe I did need to start dating again. Considering the draftiness of the supermarket, that momentary electric contact once again left me feeling way warmer than it should. Once again, I saw a flash of blue light. Once again, I knew I was just imagining things. The man smiled weakly at me, but he looked like he’d been hit by a semi. “Thanks,” he muttered, though he seemed like he wanted to say more. He didn’t. After paying for his things, he made a quick escape. My heart went out to him. Whoever he was, whatever had happened to drain his joy, I hoped he’d recover soon. Even if he was taken. In the meantime, I had my own problems to fix. *-*-* Greg In the far corner of the grocery’s underground parking lot, I tossed my purchases into the back seat of the rented Lexus, only remembering as they were midair that I hadn’t meant to mistreat the bouquet. With a flick of my wrist, I slowed its descent. The roses were no longer alive, but they were of earth, which put them in my domain. They landed softly on the leather upholstery, unharmed. I slammed the door shut. Why now? The woman in the checkout line. She had the spark. Like me, she had powers, yet unless she had the right training, she’d never know about it. Without a teacher to help her break out properly, she’d spend her entire life feeling a sense of loss and never understanding why. Not now. I didn’t have time to show her how her magic worked, even if I wasn’t just visiting. Not when I had more pressing business. Yes, it meant I was breaking the code my own teacher had instilled in me, but what choice did I have? I was only back in Vancouver for one reason: the sister I hadn’t seen in a decade needed me more. I climbed into the driver’s seat and stuck my keys in the ignition. The radio popped on, a familiar voice belting out her cover of, “All I Want for Christmas is You”. Avery. I cussed aloud. Was the universe mocking me now? Bad enough that word of our mother’s death hadn’t reached me in the Berganese jungles until it was too late. Building schools in remote villages without power, let alone Internet, had that disadvantage. I’d only just arrived back in Canada, rushing here on the first flight out of Urni. So stunned at the news, I hadn’t even stopped at home in Nongok or phoned Arthur to let him know my plans. My assistant Asha met me at the airport with a plane ticket and suitcase of sundries ready to go. I also definitely needed a shower before I went to see my sister, and that meant checking in to the hotel Asha booked for me first, but buying the bouquet took the edge off my gnawing fear that Avery wouldn’t care. Which was when I’d first laid eyes on her. I noticed the black woman the moment I joined the checkout line, but I’d found myself speechless. Likely from the stress over Avery. Only when I’d taken a look at the contents of her cart could I think of what to say to her. Not bad; I knew I was a little rusty at the game. She’d even seemed receptive to my flirting, though when I tried to tease an invite I wouldn’t be able to accept, she still shut me down. And when she’d touched my shoulder as though she’d sensed my distress at seeing that photo of Avery, then again to offer me her place in line, for the briefest moment, I’d felt oddly at peace. Just as I felt the small zap of power. She was Alé, just like me. Or she could be. No more stalling. I’d already made my choice. No matter how much I wished I could have stayed longer, I had to get to my sister. Shoving the guilt to the back of my mind, I drove out of the parking lot and headed for my hotel. *-*-* Sarah Half an hour later, I finally pulled up around the back entrance to Avery’s grand mansion. I’ve gotta hand it to my best friend; when she bought this place back in September, it wasn’t for the solarium or swimming pool, but for the ballroom that seated over a hundred so she could throw parties whenever she liked. Tonight’s gala would be her first event, with the food and drink brought around by servers. Yeah, having the building attached to the rest of the house meant her charity coordinator—me—had to make sure security around the personal quarters was extra tight, and that alone had been a headache and a half. But that was Avery. She cared more about what she could do to help others than she did for her own welfare. In the large kitchen that adjoined the ballroom I found charity volunteers willing to help unload the groceries, sort them out, and ready them for serving later that night. Occupied with organizing the arrangement of the cold food and the preparation of the hot, and directing the volunteers to do the same, I didn’t notice Avery’s arrival in the kitchen until the other volunteers showered her in a chorus of greetings. “Sare-Bear!” I looked up and met my friend’s pleading gaze. The blonde singer was already dressed for tonight’s gathering in a vibrant green cocktail dress that matched her eyes and swirled about her knees. “Sare-Bear, come on,” she said. “You’ve got to get ready.” I rolled my eyes at Avery’s endearment for me. “One second.” I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, wiped them on a towel hanging by the oven, then followed my friend out into the main foyer. Unlike the supermarket, the mansion had been bedecked with ribbons and garlands. Even a giant Christmas tree stood in the corner by the front door blanketed in gold ornaments and fairy lights. “You know, calling me names like that is exactly why skeevy rags like The Sizzler think we’re a couple,” I teased. To my relief, Avery turned on one heel at the base of the stairs, and stopped. Her famously angelic face hovered on the precipice of humour and pain. Good humour won out, and she burst into a smile. “You’re the one who still lives with me,” she pointed out. I shrugged, straight-faced. “I could move out.” “Please don’t,” said Avery, eyes wide as saucers. The slight quaver in her lips betrayed her deadpan. “Do you know how expensive moving is?” That made me laugh, given how much the mansion had cost Avery. “Besides,” Avery continued, voice catching again, “we’re practically sisters, right?” That had been the running joke between us and our parents ever since we were fifteen. Back in high school, together with our other friend Cecily—Silly—we’d been thick as thieves. That was where the nicknames had come from. Cecily was now the busy single mother of twins and was understandably occupied, but all three of us took every chance we could to reunite. Me and Avery, though, had been inseparable, and we’d remained so when Avery’s career took off “Oh, Big Mack,” Spying the tears that still threatened, I breathed Avery’s own nickname. I crossed the floor and wrapped my grieving friend in a hug. “It’s going to be okay. You just have to be strong tonight.” Avery sniffed. “I can handle this,” she said, though the quaver in her voice made it sound like she was still trying to convince herself. Then, with a determined scrunch of her face, said, “I know I can. That’s what Mom would have wanted, right?” “You know she would.” I patted Avery’s back, thinking soothing thoughts. This was Avery’s first public outing since the funeral. Naturally she was fretting. How dare she be allowed to simply grieve! “Time to show those nosy busybodies you’re fine.”