1 Dewitched (25 page)

Winnie takes over. “So, Elz started to design fashion forward shoes and worked with John to perfect the fit. He developed a new concept--half sizes--for those in-between feet.”

Elz continues. “I begged the owner to let me give the store a makeover and stock it with our chic, comfy shoes. I came up with a new name--The Glass Slipper--and John came up with the catchy motto ‘
For the Perfect Fit Shoe.’
Within twenty-four hours, we were sold out.” 

“John is now Elz’s business partner,” adds Winnie, proudly. “He also thought of the see-through glass boxes. It makes it a lot easier to find your shoes, especially when you have hundreds of them. And they help preserve them.”

Little glass coffins. Like the glass coffin the dwarfs built to watch over Snow White. I shudder and take another swig of beer. 

 “You’ll never guess who came in!” exclaims Elz.

My heart stands still. I bet she’s going to say Snow White!

“Cinderella!”

“No way!” I say, relieved.

 “See, Jane, it’s all meant to be,” says Winnie.

“I told her how sorry I was about being so mean to her. She couldn’t have been nicer. She was even sorry to hear about my mother.” 

Her story is getting better by the minute.

“And guess what, she was so wowed by my collection of hard-to-find Size 4 1/2 heels that she loaned me money to buy the store.” 

“And her old coach,” adds Winnie.

Too bad she didn’t throw in driving lessons.

 Elz pauses to slurp her beer, then tells us she has some other news. Her face lights up.

“I’m seeing Hook; we’re kind of a couple.”

I have mixed feelings about the news. Hook’s such a pompous asshole. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe.

“What’s Hook up to?” I ask.

“Oh, he’s working at an orphanage,” beams Elz. “He’s like a mother to all these poor lost boys.”

It must be that orphanage built by that Midas megalomaniac.

“What about Sasperilla?” 

Elz’s face loses its glow. “I’m not sure she ever got out of Faraway. It’s weird, but I miss her.” 

“Because she’s still family,” says Winnie.

Ah! Winnie’s words of wisdom.

Elz brightens and signals for another round of beers.

I guzzle mine. Elz and Winnie are so happy. Their post-rehab stints are perfect for them. Elz is using her artistic talent and has finally become her own boss, and Winnie has managed to control her eating and improve her marriage. Mine, however, in a word, sucks.

I fill Elz and Winnie in on everything I’ve had to put up with as Marcella’s personal assistant. “She’s a total nightmare!”

Elz, having met the skank, vouches for me. “With all you’re doing, that’s so mean of her not to invite you to the ball,” she singsongs.

I seriously want to shake her. 

 “Don’t worry about Calla’s birthday party,” says Winnie. “I’ll take care of everything. It’ll be a piece of cake.” 

That’s a relief! At least, another thing on my To-Do List will get done. Thank goodness for best friends.

 “Shrink promised I could go back to my castle once I complete this rotten gig,” I go on, “but I’m not going to survive Marcella.”

“Hang in there,” says Winnie. “Trust me, everything’s happening for a reason.”

Trust me,
I can’t think of a single good reason to be slaving for Her Royal Skankiness. I’m supposed to be finding some meaning and light, but I don’t even have the time to find my way to the bathroom.

 “I should poison the bitch!” I say, rage rising inside me.

Winnie and Elz shoot me a don’t-go-there look.

 “I don’t understand what The Prince sees in her.”

 “She’s blond, busty, and brazen,” says Winnie, the relationship guru.

And I, former Miss Fairest of All, am overworked, rundown, and as flat as an unbaked loaf of bread.

“What’s Gallant like?” asks Elz.

The mere mention of his name makes my stomach flutter and temperature rise. What’s wrong with me? It must be the beer. It has to be.

Elz’s attention suddenly turns to someone else.

Hook. He pushes through the crowd toward the bar. Elz’s bespectacled eyes sparkle. 

 “Yo, Ho, Ho,” Hook says to the bartender. “Give these fine ladies another round and throw in a bottle of rum for me.” 

 The swashbuckler chugs his rum and sets the bottle down hard. So much for Faraway’s cure.

 “Whatch’ya been up to, babe?” Hook leans in close to me, pressing his thigh against mine. Something hard digs into me. I glance down and gasp. A massive ivory- handled sword is lodged inside his belt.

I take a gulp of beer and edge away. With a flick of his hook, the swine yanks me back to him. Elz frowns. Shit! I wish he’d leave me alone. Or that a one-eyed ogre would come up to me and start a conversation.  

 My rescue-me prayers are answered.  

“Give everyone another one on me!”

All eyes turn toward a dashing, long-legged man who has burst through the front door with such force the room quiets. He’s dressed in formal military attire and wielding an intimidating sword. My heart drops to my stomach. It’s The Prince!

 My pulse goes into overdrive. I can’t let him see me here of all places. I quickly hide my face behind my mug, but it’s too late. Recognition flickers in his eyes. Sliding his sword into his belt, he heads in my direction. I chug my entire mug of beer in one gulp. I feel sick. Very sick.

 “Jane, what brings you here?” he asks, brushing up against me.

A giant lump forms in my throat. Swallowing hard, I ask him the same question.

“Just letting off a little steam.” He orders a beer and downs it. “I had another argument with my father; he does not understand me. I always stop by here after seeing him. It is quite refreshing to be with real people instead of a bunch of headstrong royals.”

“Introduce us to your friend,” insists Winnie.

My lips quiver. “This is Prince Gallant.”

All Winnie and Elz can say is “Oh.”

Oh is right. I’d better get out of here. Fast! 

Gallant grabs me by the elbow, holding me back. “Please don’t leave, Jane. I need someone to talk to.”

He gazes at me. His blue eyes are glazed over. He’s drunk. Really drunk. I struggle to break free from his tight grip.

“Leave the lady alone!” says Hook, slurring his words.

“Who is she to you?” asks Gallant.

 “None of your bilge sucking business!”

And then the unthinkable happens. Hook takes a whack at The Prince, and The Prince whacks him right back. Holy crap! They’ve begun a bar room brawl!

“Remember what they say,” says Gallant. “The wise man hits first; the better man hits last.”

“Well, I’ll show you who’s better,” responds Hook. He packs a powerful punch that sends The Prince to his knees, gasping for air.

 “You like pain? I’ll you show you pain,” says Gallant, getting back on his feet. At full force, he charges at Hook and knocks him down. Pinning his opponent to the sawdust-covered floor, The Prince delivers a series of hard blows, one right after the other.

 Poor Elz winces with every blow and, finally unable to stomach it any more, buries her head in her arms. My heart hammers. Gallant’s going to do the pirate in!

 Suddenly, Hook whips out his sword with his good hand and slices Gallant across his neck. The Prince recoils, freeing Hook. Oh my God. Blood is trickling down his neck. I’m going to be sick.

Undeterred, Gallant staggers to his feet and draws his sword. “I challenge you to a duel for the fair maiden’s heart!”

 I can’t believe this is happening! The Prince must be drunk out of his mind.

“My pleasure,” says Hook. Without wasting a second, he lunges at The Prince, who ducks his assault.

 
Clinkity-Clink
. Our Girls’ Night Out has now turned into a life-or-death jousting match minus the horses. The pub-goers crowd around the dueling duo and cheer them on. They’re even placing wagers.

 “Round 2 goes to the challenger,” someone shouts out. Gallant gives a nod of acknowledgement as he holds off Hook.

 Elz peeks up at the fight and bites her lip. “It’s all my fault,” she says tearfully. “I should have never brought you guys here.” 

Winnie consoles her with a hug. “Life happens.”

“But Winnie, what if death happens?” asks Elz, her voice shaking.

“Good question.” Winnie ponders. “Let’s think on the bright side.” 

Forget it, Winnie! There is
no
bright side! If Gallant kills Hook, Elz will never forgive me. And if Hook kills Gallant? Oh, God! I can’t even begin to imagine the consequences. And then, there’s the third scenario: they kill each other…

A loud gasp from the crowd stops my thoughts cold. Gallant has knocked Hook’s sword out of his hand, sending it flying across the room.

 “You think you’ve got me?” says Hook, red with rage. “Well, you’re wrong!”

The Prince doesn’t see it coming. Neither do I. In the blink-of-an-eye move, the pirate whacks Gallant in the head with his heavy metal hook. The blow is more than The Prince can bear. He crumples to the floor as I gasp. 

Hook retrieves his sword with his good hand and brandishes it victoriously above his head. “This time, drinks all around on
me
!” he shouts boastfully.

The crowd charges to the bar as I race over to the unconscious Prince.

“Hook! You’ve killed him!” screams Elz, in hysterics. 

“He’s alive!” I yell on the top of my lungs. “Help me get him out of here!”

Winnie and Elz rush to my aid. Elz calls out to Hook for help. He ignores her. He’s too busy drowning himself in another bottle of rum.

 Elz fights back tears. The poor girl! I despise the swine more than ever. 

“Come on, Elz. Let’s get The Prince into your coach and take him home,” I say, surprised I can still think straight. Or think at all.

Winnie and Elz each take a leg while I take his arms. On Winnie’s count of three, we lift him up. 

 “He must weigh a ton!” grunts Winnie.

 “He doesn’t look like he weighs that much,” says Elz. “What do you think, Jane?

I want to smack her. Who cares! All I care about is getting him home.

Somehow, we manage to carry him out the door. There’s only one “little” problem: Elz’s coach is no longer parked outside the tavern. It’s gone!

 “Read that!” says Winnie, pointing straight ahead at a road sign.

TOW AWAY ZONE

PARK AT YOUR OWN RISK!

We silently read it together. Winnie and I shoot Elz a scathing look that reads something like: We’re going to kill you even if you’re our best friend.

Elz shrivels with guilt. “That sign must be brand new,” she squeaks meekly. “I’ve parked here dozens of times.” 

We are so screwed. Now what are we going to do? Maybe we should toss The Prince’s body into the gutter and make a run for it.

 And then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a handsome white horse parked just outside the tow-away zone. I recognize the animal instantly. It’s Gallant’s steed. What good luck! We’ll get him on the horse and send them both home.

Using all the strength we have left, we hoist up The Prince and slide him over the saddle. His arms and legs dangle lifelessly over the beast’s flanks. The horse doesn’t  mind.

 “Beat it, horsey!” I give the animal a slap on his rear. “Go home!” I don’t think the horse understands me. He doesn’t budge. Damn it! I wish I knew the horse’s name. Maybe that would help.

There’s only one solution. I’m going to have to ride the horse and take The Prince home. While I’ve ridden a few times, I’m not what you would call an experienced equestrian. Coupled with the fact that I’ve had a couple of beers or three or four or more, this is
not
going to be fun. Oh, and did I mention, I have no idea where we are? Let’s hope the horse will know the way back to the castle since Gallant mentioned he’s been here before.

“What about you guys?” I ask Winnie and Elz.

“Don’t worry about us,” says Winnie with her usual optimism. “We’ll figure out a way home.” 

“Maybe I can get someone to take us to the local impound,” chimes in Elz. “It’ll be easy to spot my coach.” 

Winnie and I roll our eyes. Remind me never to come back here.

***

Except for the fact that my inner thighs are killing me, the ride back to the castle goes smoothly. Lucky for me, the steed indeed knows his way and gallops confidently across the dark countryside. I’m just nervous that The Prince, who’s draped over the saddle in front of me, will fall off. Or that I will in my tipsy state. 

I let out a big sigh of relief (and so do my thighs) when we at last reach the gated castle. Gallant is still out cold. The guardsmen let us in without saying a word. It’s as though they’ve seen The Prince like this before.

I lead the horse to the front entrance. So far, so good. Suddenly, something spooks the animal. A snake! Hissing, it slithers across the cobblestone path. The steed rears up, catapulting us to the ground.

It takes me a minute to come to my senses. I’m straddled on top of The Prince, his torso rising and falling beneath me. With every breath he takes, his taut chest presses deeper into my ribs. Even in this lifeless state, he’s so strong. So powerful. I gaze at his moonlit face. The blow he received from Hook is beginning to swell, but other than that, he looks so peaceful. And so handsome. I resist the urge to run my fingers over his fine features.

In the distant meadow, the horse is grazing. “Get your ass back here, horsey!” I shout, staggering to my feet.

The animal trots off. It doesn’t really matter because there’s no way I could have gotten The Prince back up on it by myself.

 Okay. So, now what am I going to do? I can’t leave him here. I mean, a wild beast could come along and eat him alive. Or a storm could erupt, and he could drown or get struck by lightning. Or that snake could come back and bite him. Poor Calla would never get over it if he died just like her mother.

Think!
Think!
The problem is I’m exhausted and have had way too much to drink. I can’t think. Luckily, the obvious comes to me. I take hold of The Prince’s muscular arms and drag him face up to the castle entrance. Cripes! He
is
heavy!