2 Unhitched (24 page)

My heart sinks. She’s not going to help me.

“I usually don’t take on cases like this, but I’ll make an exception.”

My heart lifts. Yes! She’ll do it!

“I need a down payment,” she says testily.

Shit! Those pesky imps took all my money! “What about full payment in cash when the job’s done?” I try to negotiate.

“No deal!” She scans me up and down with her dark beady eyes. Her gaze narrows, and she points a grubby finger at me. “What’s that you’re wearing around your neck?”

I look down and grasp Shrink’s mirrored locket. No! I can’t give her this!

“Hand it over,” she says, rubbing her fingertips together, “or say good-bye.”

I take a deep breath and have another coughing fit. Slowly,
very
slowly, I slip the necklace over my head. To my shock, a giant raven sweeps down and snags it in his beak. He flaps over to The Potato Sack Princess. She snatches the necklace from him.

“Good boy, Amigo.” The Potato Sack Princess admires the locket.

The bird squawks loudly and circles around my head. He’s terrifying me. I crouch, protectively folding my arms over my head.

“Don’t be afraid of him,” says The Potato Sack Princess. “He’s a very sweet bird, and you might as well get used to him because he works for me.”

She signals the bird with a double snap of her fingers. “Come here, good boy.”

The bird zooms over to her and sits on her shoulder.

“He’s a rescue bird. I found him in the forest and nursed him back to health. That damn fire-breathing dragon—the one that destroyed my castle—burnt off half his feathers. Some chick named Malevolence posted a sign for his return—she called him Deevil—but there was no way in hell that I was going to give him back.”

She turns her head and looks lovingly at the giant bird still perched on her shoulder. “Finders keepers, right Amigo honey?”

The bird squawks happily and flaps its wide wings. I, on the other hand, am quivering at the mention of Malevolence’s name. I dread the thought of the ride home.

The Potato Sack Princess returns her attention to my locket. Holding it in her palm, she fidgets with the lock.

“Hey, careful with that!” I protest. “That locket means a lot to me.”

“Don’t worry, sister. I’ll give it back to you when you pay me.”

She struggles to open the gold locket with her dirty, ragged fingernails.

Shit! She’s going to break it. My heart pounds with dread. Finally, she snaps it open.

She gazes at herself in the mirror inside it and makes a face. “Do you know someone who will come out this way and give me a haircut?”

Gothel’s name immediately comes to mind. She could work wonders. But I just shake my head “no.”

She slips the locket over her head; it grazes her grungy potato sack. “There’s one other thing you should know about me if we’re going to be working together.”

There are probably hundreds of things I should know about her. But to be truthful, I’ve heard enough.

“I prefer the company of women to men.”

Cripes! Now I’m also going to have to give her sexual favors.

“Don’t worry. I never mix business with pleasure. And besides, you’re not my type. I like them fat. Like my bank account.”

With the way my weight’s been soaring, I might be right up her alley by tomorrow. Another reason to go on a diet. I hope she never hit on Winnie.

We finally get down to business. I fill her in on everything I know about Aurora and Gallant, focusing on the present and not their past.

“Your husband’s an artist? He sounds like a bum, just like my Roland.”

Roland… the handsome prince for whom she risked her life, only to be rejected by him because she didn’t look princessy enough. I detect bitterness in her voice. I have to admit I feel sorry for her. And can even understand her sexual preference. I wonder if I’ll go that way.

“You’ll be very pleased with the results of my investigation.” She smugly snaps the locket shut. “I’ll give you a full detailed report with the evidence.”

All of a sudden, I’m not so sure if I’m doing the right thing. Not so much the spying on my husband part; I’m okay with that. It’s the report that’s making my heart go boom, boom, boom. Truthfully, I don’t know if I can bear hearing what Gallant is like in bed with Aurora. For the first time, a vision of their long, lean, athletic bodies tangled up together floats in my head. The sound of them moaning and groaning with pleasure fills my ears. What if he does things to her that he does to me? And more? And she turns out to be a better lover than I’ve ever been? But the biggest question of all is: Then what? A painful knot forms in my stomach.

The Potato Sack Princess plays with
her
new locket—okay, it’s just a down payment, I assure myself—and shows me out the door. It bolt-locks behind me.

A deal is a deal. I only hope I don’t live to regret it.

Chapter 18

I
GET BACK TO LALALAND SAFELY without a hitch. Just in time for my afternoon appointment with Dr. Grimm.

Truthfully, I thought my last appointment with Dr. Grimm would be my last. But as I headed back to Lalaland, I decided I wanted to personally tell the kind man that I no longer need his services.

His waiting room is packed with pretty princesses with baby bumps, cheerfully exchanging pregnancy stories and baby names and comparing answers to that stupid motherhood quiz. Thank goodness, Dr. Grimm is able to see me right away.

“Well, well, well, my dear. How did you do with the herbs and birthing stones?”

“Um, good,” I mutter. I’m not going to tell him that I threw them away.

“Excellent,” he beams. “Let’s do a pea test.”

A pea test
? I thought that was a princess test for baby girls. Maybe it’s also some kind of genetic test. Mystified, I await twenty elves to parade through the door, each schlepping a mattress and a featherbed. What a waste of time and energy! Trust me, I’m no princess.

Dr. Grimm hands me a flask.

“I’d like you to
pee
in this.”

What? He wants me to pee into a jar? Now, I’m really confused. He leaves the room. I lift up my layers of petticoats and put the jar where it needs to be. Piss vinegar! Nothing comes out. Finally, I relax my muscles and manage to squeeze out a few drops. I don’t need to be doing this. I’m definitely telling Dr. Grimm that this is my last visit. I’ll just tell him that Gallant and I have decided that we don’t want a child. I’ll spare him the gory details. He can read all about the breakup and divorce in the
Fairytale Tattler.

Dr. Grimm teeters back into the room and examines the flask. Using a dropper, he puts of few drops of some strange powder into the pee. I scrunch my nose. It stinks! Turning his back, he heads over to one of his wired up lab stations.

I utter a little attention-getting cough. “Dr. Grimm, I actually came here to tell you that Gallant and I—”

Dr. Grimm cuts me off. “My dear, come here and see this.” He sounds excited.

I slide off the examining table and head over to the gurgling flask. My eyes grow as round as marbles. Worms are growing inside it!

My pulse races. “What’s wrong with me?”

He grins. “Nothing, my dear.”

I breathe a loud sigh of relief.

“Except you’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant?”
I squeak. The words echo in my head, but no matter how many times I hear them, they don’t register.

“And judging by the size of these critters, I’d say you’re well into your eighth month.”

I’m eight months pregnant?
I still can’t register the shock. But the more I think about it, it makes sense. I should have known. The mood swings. The sleeplessness. The maternal instincts. The nausea. And… the weight gain.

“You had us all fooled,” chuckles Dr. Grimm. “You were actually pregnant before you started seeing me six months ago.”

I do the math. He’s right. All his magic—the birthing stones, chants, prayers, herbs, and potions—did not make me pregnant. Gallant did. With
his
magic.

“Why didn’t you this test before?” My voice is in panic mode.

“My dear, it’s a sudden breakthrough in modern medicine.”

“What about the on and off bleeding I’ve had?” With my irregular few and far between periods, I thought I was menstruating.

“I suspect, given how strong your pee test reaction is, you were going to have multiples. I think you lost one early on.”

Two? One is bad enough. Reality plunges into me. I’m losing My Prince! I can’t have this baby. His baby! Not now! Not ever!

“Dr. Grimm, we’ll have to do something about the baby because Gallant and I have decided that we
strongly
don’t want any more children.” Desperation underlies every word, and I practically scream “strongly.”

Grimm shakes his head. Not a good sign. My stomach churns. “My dear, there is nothing we can do. You are way too far along.”

I swallow hard. I’m having a baby. Gallant’s.

I stumble into Dr. Grimm’s waiting room in a trance. I gaze numbly at the mural of baby lambs jumping over the rainbow. My numbness succumbs to glumness as my eyes shift up to the fertility doctor’s motto. “
Where Fairy Tales are Born.”
Believe me, this is no fairy tale hiding out in my body. It’s a horror story!

The bevy of pregnant princesses still sitting in the waiting room is one giant blur. I can’t even hear the sound of their chatter. The deafening chaos in my head overpowers it. I desperately need some fresh air. To clear my head.

I leave my horse behind—I’ll send someone to fetch him later—and just start walking. The unusual late afternoon haze mirrors my mental state. Questions without answers whirl around in my head. What am I going to do with this child? How am I going to raise it alone? How will I ever love it knowing it’s Gallant’s?

Wait! I don’t need any answers. The child will be stillborn. Just like my first baby, the one I had when I was only thirteen-years-old after Snow White’s father’s lustful assault. And this time, I won’t survive the horrific birthing.

A strange spasm rocks my stomach. I place my hand on my swollen belly. Another spasm, but this time I can actually feel a flutter beneath my palm. The baby is kicking. It’s trying to tell me something. Of course, it could hear all my horrible thoughts. It’s upset and getting back at me. Treating my womb like a punching bag. It kicks me hard again as if acknowledging I’ve guessed right. And then out of nowhere, I have something that approaches an outer body experience. An indescribable mixture of wonderment, excitement, determination, and fear fills every fiber of my being. Tears pour from my eyes. Holy shit! This is not supposed to happen. I’m bonding with my baby.

My stomach gurgles. A hunger pang. I’m ravenous, not having eaten a thing all day. The baby jabs me again. Hard. Of course, it’s hungry too.

I’m beginning to think that my baby is very smart and that we’re going to get along just fine. “Come on, kid, let’s get a bite to eat. There’s this really yummy cupcake place at The Trove that’s not too far away. You’re going to love the double fudge chocolate chip cupcakes. They’re my favorite.” And then it hits me. I’m talking out loud to my baby!

The Trove, as usual, is packed with beautiful princesses bustling in and out of stores. My eyes gravitate to several pushing elegant prams. I follow one of them. She pivots around and gives me a dirty look. She must think I’m a stalker and hastily moves away from me. Sheesh. I just want to ask her where she got her carriage.

On the way to Sparkles, I pass Jack and Jill,
the
store for baby royals. I press my nose against the window, ogling the most gorgeous handmade baby clothes I’ve ever seen. I can’t resist going inside.

“Can I help you?” asks a very prim and proper nanny type in a condescending tone. She eyes me up and down. I’m sure she’s checking me out to determine if I’m royalty and can afford the exorbitantly priced merchandise.

I pick up a delicate white dressing gown, trimmed with lace, that would be perfect for either a baby girl or boy. “How much is this?” I ask.

“I don’t think you can afford it,” she scoffs.

I put down the little gown and give her the cold, haughty stare that I perfected in my “magic” mirror.

“And I don’t think
you
can afford to have that attitude,” I say dismissively.