Reaching across the table, I squeezed Grant’s hand. “You’re sure?” I asked. For everything that the Ball had brought us, including each other, the Ball was also the site of tremendous loss for Grant.
I didn’t have to explain; he knew why I was asking. He nodded. “I need to do this, I think,” he said. “Reclaim it.”
I smiled. “Then we should do it,” I said. “I have some money saved up from the Sinful Sisters tour. I can pitch in.”
The discussion continued throughout the night as we worked out logistics. In the morning, Saul called his lawyer. After that, everything moved much more quickly than I had expected. In a matter of weeks, we were signing the papers that transferred ownership of the Ball to the eight of us.
“This is it?” I asked as I signed my name. “It’s really ours?”
Saul’s lawyer, a middle-aged man named Mr. Owens I had liked immediately, assured me that it was.
Together, the eight of us made whatever repairs we could reasonably handle on our own, until we judged the space was safe enough to hold the fundraising event we would need in order to fully restore the building. We spent each day sweeping, scrubbing, hammering, and fell into our beds each night exhausted and sore . . . but never tired enough that we didn’t have time to explore each others’ bodies. I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love with each passing day.
Finally, we got to work planning our fundraising event. The Prince Charmings would provide entertainment, of course, with me as the lead singer. The Sinful Sisters had officially broken up. Although I had already forgiven Susanna and Liz for their treatment of me, I knew that we could never perform together as we once had: any uneasy trust that had once existed between us was gone now. While I was sad that my first band was over, I felt good about the fact that we had parted on good terms when Susanna and Liz headed back home to West Virginia.
“The guest list is tricky,” Darren said, frowning down at the open notebook in front of him. “We want to invite people with money who can and will donate to the cause, not just our friends.”
An idea came to me. “The Sinful Sisters and I did this charity event last fall,” I said. “There was a retired pro wrestler there. His girlfriend really liked us, and she gave me her card. I think I still have it in my wallet.”
Darren regarded me with interest. “You think he’d come?” he asked. I shrugged.
“No harm in inviting him, at least,” I said.
Slowly but surely, the guest list came together, drinks and catering were sorted out, and the RSVPs began to pour in. Valentina’s little plot had made the news, and everyone wanted to see the secret sex club that had been uncovered during an arson investigation.
Finally, the night we had been planning for so long arrived. I gazed uncertainly at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I had paid a visit to Demi at Pumpkins the day before to ask for a favor. Demi, God bless her, had eagerly agreed, and now here I was: wearing the same PVC ball gown I’d been wearing when I met the band. This time, I had foregone the wig and mask; there was no need to hide my identity tonight. The boots were new, since the ones I’d worn before had been damaged in the fire.
“Ready to go, Ella?” I heard Darren call from the living room. Taking a deep breath, I left the bathroom and made my way to the living room, where I was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath from all seven men.
“Do I look okay?” I asked, turning in a little circle, my heavy skirt flaring around my legs.
Grant was the first to break the silence. “Ella,” he said, stepping forward. “You look—You’re incredible.”
I beamed, flushing a little at his praise. One by one, all seven of my men approached me to kiss me, careful not to smudge my lipstick. “Shall we?” I asked, flushed and pleased. Whatever happened tonight, I knew I had the love of seven incredible men.
As the guests arrived, my nerves returned. I had known from the number of RSVPs that had come in that the event was going to be massive, but it was something else entirely to watch the house, which still bore the marks of smoke damage on its walls, fill to the rafters with guests.
Jason slipped up next to me. “Nervous?” he asked.
Smiling sheepishly, I nodded. Jason took my hand in his. “You’re going to be incredible,” he said. “You always are.” I gave his hand a little squeeze.
Of course, I need not have worried. Together, we were incredible. Grant and I harmonized like we had been performing together our whole lives. Even from the stage, I could tell that we held the audience transfixed. Standing on that stage, under those lights, I felt a delighted chill run up my spine. This place was magic; I could feel it.