1 Dewitched (35 page)

 My tears puddle on the floor. Heaving, I tell myself I must leave.
I must.
I take a deep breath, and finally, I head toward the front door for the very last time.
Good-bye, My Prince. Good-bye!

 “Dahling, do you need another hankie?”

 Startled to hear a familiar voice behind me, I spin around before I have a foot out the door. Standing before me is Emperor Armando, in a long white sparkly robe and a matching cone-shaped hat. A hankie is one hand and a shopping bag in the other.

 My teary eyes are as round as marbles. “What are you doing here?” I sniffle.

He gives me his signature double cheek kiss. “Fashion guru by day; Fairy godmother by night!”

He’s a fairy godmother?
Okay. Whatever. So happy to see him, I throw my arms around his bear of a body and bury my face in his cushy chest.

 “Careful, dahling, don’t ruin my new outfit with your tears. It took weeks to make!”

I take his hankie and blow my nose. After one giant honk, my tears subside.

 The Emperor looks me over. “My little muse, we’re going to have to work quickly to get you to the ball on time!”

The ball? I’m
going to the ball? Huh!?

“Dahling, I hope you like it.” Like
what?
What is he talking about?

I’m even more mystified when The Emperor pulls out a shiny sewing needle from a pocket. “Say hello to my magic wand.”

He must be kidding.

He waves the needle over me. Just as I expected, nothing happens.

“I don’t get it.” He frowns. “I can work magic with a sewing needle at my emporium.”

“Maybe you have to say an incantation. Or it’s not big enough,” I murmur, skeptical of his powers.

 “Good thinking, dahling.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “Ippity-bippity-boppity-boo. Make this needle as big as can be.” 

“I thought incantations had to rhyme.” 

The Emperor opens his eyes. “Cut me some slack, dahling. This is the first time I’ve come out as a fairy godmother. I haven’t gotten the rhyming part down.” 

It doesn’t matter. The two-inch needle morphs into a two-foot glow stick! I gasp.

“Dahling, let’s try this again.” The Emperor waves the sparkling wand over me.

Nothing happens. I shrug my shoulders. Suddenly, a shower of fairy dust pours over me.

It
is
a magic wand! Before my eyes, my plain black dress transforms into a ball gown. An incredible ball gown! 

“Whoever said ‘it’s not the size of the wand but the power of the magician that counts’ should have his head examined,” says The Emperor.

I gaze down at the gown. Two little spaghetti straps hold up a form-fitting bodice that gives way to cascading layers of silky black satin and tulle. Sparkles coat the top layer of tulle as if it’s been dipped in fairy dust. It’s the most magnificent dress I’ve ever seen.

“I call it my LBD--my Luscious Black Dress,” the Emperor gushes. “I designed it especially for you.” 

“Can I really wear black to the ball?” 

“Trust me, dahling,” says the Emperor. “Black is the new pink. When all those frou-frou princesses see you in it, it’ll be all the rage. I can’t bear to think of how busy I’ll be tomorrow!”

Tears of joy trickle down my cheeks. I expect the Emperor to brush them away, but instead he waves his magic wand over me one more time. I gasp again. My tears have turned into a magnificent pair of diamond teardrop earrings! They’re floating before my eyes.

 “FAAAbulous!” Armando clips them onto my earlobes. “They go perfectly with your bling.” 

I almost forgot about Shrink’s locket. Still around my neck, it grazes my beautiful gown.

The Emperor glances down at my feet. “Sugarplum fairies! I almost forgot…these are from Elzmerelda. She says you’ve
got
to have them!” He reaches into the shopping bag.

 Oh my God! It’s the killer stilettos with the pointy toes and little bows. The wickedly beautiful, shiny black shoes I coveted! The Emperor places them by my feet. Holding onto his shoulder, I step into them. Instantly, I’m six inches taller.

“How do I look?” I ask.

“Let’s face it, dahling. Everyone looks better with six more inches. Everywhere.”

I would kill to see myself in a full-length mirror.

“Dahling, you don’t need a mirror-shmirror on the wall to tell you that you’ll be the chicest at the ball!”

 How did he read my mind? And know what I used to imagine my “magic” mirror to say? Well, not exactly, but more or less. I suppose it’s just another one of his magical powers. What’s next?

“Now, let me see you walk,” says The Emperor.

I’ve never walked in such high heels--or in such an extravagant dress. I teeter; I totter. My ankles wobble.

“There’s no way I can do this!” Seriously, how does he expect me to walk in these shoes when I can barely balance in them?

 “Dahling, come on now. Get in the moment. You can do it.” 

I try again and almost topple over. Forget it! I can’t walk in them.

 “Dahling, don’t give up.”

I force myself to take another step and then another. Yes! I’m doing it! I’m strutting in my killer heels and my LBD! In no time, I’m prancing like a cat.

The Emperor claps his hands with childlike glee. “I think I’m having a Cinderella moment.” 

I’m not quite sure what he means, but who cares. I’m ready to go the ball!

But wait! There’s one little problem: how am I going to get there? The coach that took The Prince, Marcella, and Calla is long gone. I wish I had a pumpkin and a couple of mice handy so The Emperor could do some more Cinderella magic. My heart sinks. I guess I won’t be going to the ball after all.

“Dahling, stop worrying. They don’t call me a clothes horse for nothing.”

With one little jab of his magic wand, he magically transforms into a white stallion. My mouth drops. This is no ordinary horse. It’s a sparkling unicorn with wings. And it can talk!

Straight from the horse’s mouth come the words, “Dahling, time to PAR-tay!”

The equine emperor lies down, allowing me to mount him easily. Spreading his wings, Armando leaps to all fours and charges through an open window. I cling to his silky mane.

Holy crap! We’re flying!

So much for my not-so-fairy-tale life. I’m going to The Prince’s ball! As we eclipse the grinning moon, King Midas’s palace, the crown jewel of Lalaland, comes into view. That’s when reality throws a spear my way. I’m not going to your everyday fairy-tale ball. It’s going to be the wedding of all times. Generations will read about it. Forever and forever.

My sky-high joy takes a nosedive. The Prince is marrying Marcella! 

So much for
my
fairy-tale life

CHAPTER 35

“I can’t do this!” I tell Armando. The Emperor has transformed back to himself, and we’re about to make our grand entrance into Midas’s palace.

“I’m not even invited,” I add, my blood pounding in my veins.

“Dahling, stop worrying. I’m on the A-list. And you’re my guest.” 

***

The ball is in full swing. It’s a glittering spectacle with everyone who’s anyone in Lalaland. I marvel at how it’s all come together, thanks in large part to me. Searching the crowd, I spot the Queen of Hearts mingling with King Midas; Cinderella sharing champagne with Prince Charming; and Calla frolicking with Lady Jane. Missing in action are Marcella and The Prince.

 “Seriously, I can’t do this,” I whisper to Armando as we step onto the red carpet.

“Dahling, relax. Just stay in the zone. Head high and tummy in.” 

The Emperor interlocks his arm with mine. In my six-inch heels, I tower over him. I nervously play with my mirrored locket with my other hand.

A chorus of trumpets blows announcing our arrival. My stomach muscles clench.

“Royal Ladies and Gentlemen, the distinguished fashion designer Emperor Armando and his guest…”

“The faaabulous Jane Yvel,” bellows The Emperor. 

The crowd gasps. I smile halfway. My confidence soars when I see Calla jumping up and down and waving at me. She blows me a magical kiss. A big smile spreads across my face. I
can
do this!

All eyes are on me as we do the walk. The Emperor, loving every minute of this spectacle, blows kisses to his adoring fans. He was right. They’re all buzzing about my dress.

 Without warning, my heart skips a beat, and I almost trip. Straight ahead of me is a vision in red. Marcella! And beside her, The Prince.

Gallant’s eyes connect instantly with mine. He jerks his arm free from Marcella’s grip and steps away. “Where do you think you’re going?” shrieks the PIW.

Ignoring her, Gallant strides up to me. My heart flutters; my body trembles; my legs wobble. Thank goodness, The Emperor is holding me up.

The Prince clasps my hands and gently draws me close to him. In my six-inch heels, we’re face to face. He gazes at me with his blue eyes, more vibrant than ever, and breaks into that dazzling smile.

 “Jane, you look beautiful.” 

I’m tingling all over. For the first time in my life, I
feel
beautiful.

 “Thank you, My Lord.” I curtsey before him, one hand still in his.

He lifts my hand to his lips and tenderly kisses the back of it. My heart leaps to my throat.

And then it sinks to my stomach as Marcella lurches toward us in her three sizes too small shoes. Her twenty-foot train trails behind her, collecting dust along the way.

 “What the hell is
she
doing here?” she asks Gallant.

 “Language, language,” scolds The Emperor. He inspects Marcella’s ill-fitting gown and shakes his head side to side. “Dahling, you should have gotten the Size 12.” 

Marcella’s jaw drops to her cleavage and doesn’t move as The King makes an announcement.

“I want to thank all you all for being here tonight for this very special evening. Instead of gifts, my son, Prince Gallant, has requested you make a donation to a special cause that is close to my wife’s heart and mine…”

 Aghast, Marcella elbows The Prince. “But I registered for a palace full of stuff! You know how much I wanted that monogrammed silver chalice for my Liquid Diet….”

“Faraway!” The King says proudly.

Faraway?

Midas continues. “By supporting this venerable institution, you will make a difference in someone’s life.”

Actually, I do remember Midas mentioning something about Faraway and a fundraiser at that disastrous dinner last week. And so did Urma, my masseuse. I don’t get it, but this is hardly the time for a little Q&A session.

The crowd applauds wildly and breaks into “Go, Faraway” cheers.

The King takes a humble bow. “Thank you all, my friends. Now let’s get this party started!”

The orchestra begins to play. Marcella yanks Gallant onto the dance floor. My heart tanks.

 “Dahling, shall we dance?” asks The Emperor. Not waiting for my response, he whisks me onto the dance floor and swirls me around to the flow of the music. I follow him with ease though I’ve never danced like this before. My eyes all the while stay glued on Gallant.

And across the expansive ballroom, his eyes stay locked on me. Noticing what’s going on, Marcella’s eyes shoot poison darts my way. Except they keep missing.

The music stops. Armando and I find ourselves brushed up against the soon-to-be newlyweds. Venom pours out of Marcella’s eyes as Gallant’s stay fixated only on me. My heart is slamming against my chest. Any second, it may actually spill out.

The music starts up again.

“Your Royal Highness, may I have the pleasure of dancing with your lovely Princess-in-Waiting?” asks Armando.

“The pleasure is mine,” says Gallant brightly.

Marcella gapes. Before she can get out a single word, The Emperor waltzes her away. Crippled by her shoes, she can barely keep up with him. Her face contorts with agony. And if that’s not enough, everyone keeps stepping on her long train.

Alone, Gallant and I gaze at one another, each afraid to make a move. My heart is throbbing. My knees are buckling. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. Minutes feel like eternity. Finally, My Prince sweeps me away…

And I’m his Princess. Melting in his arms, I lose sight of everyone around me. My body follows his as if we’re sewn together. As if we’ve danced this way forever somewhere in another world. A world where he’s now taking me. I’m no longer in this ballroom, and my feet no longer touch the ground. I’m in heaven, floating with him across the clouds. Just like in my dream. Only this isn’t a dream; it’s really happening. And in place of a mask, I see the face of The Prince. My beautiful Prince.

 The music stops and sends me crashing back to reality. The King has another announcement. Gallant grips my hands in his. His pulse is racing.

 “My beloved royal friends, it is my pleasure to announce that tonight you will witness the marriage of my son, Prince Gallant, to his lovely princess to be, Miss Marcella Méchante.”

My heart has just been tossed off a cliff. It plunges into darkness as Marcella hobbles up to Gallant. She shoves me aside. Everything inside me is dying. 

Marcella grabs Gallant’s hand. “Come, my love. It’s time.”

The Prince stands there motionless. And then he turns to look at me one last time. With such longing, I’m brought back to life.

“Do you, Marcella, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” asks The King.

“You bet your royal…I mean, I do,” says Marcella.

I’m dying again. How am I still standing?

“And do you, my son, take this woman to be your wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or--”

“Hold it right there,” butts in Marcella. “Your Majesty, can’t we just cut to the chase!”

The Prince turns to face Marcella.

My heart is about to implode. It takes all I have to stay on my feet.

“Father, I d…”

 Suddenly, a voice screams out from the crowd.

“Papa, you can’t!” It’s Calla! In tears, she runs up to her father and flings her arms around him.