Authors: Alex Flinn
Cloaked (5 page)
I make sure Ryan sees my lipsticked face when I return his shirt.
“Liar,” he says. “You put it on yourself.”
“Zis is her color,” I say, laughing.
I spend the rest of the afternoon in a daze, not really listening to the sad tale of some guy’s busted loafer because I’m too busy thinking about how I have ten grand in my pocket and I just kissed one of
People
magazine’s most beautiful people. After work, I rush home, despite the heat, and show Mom the money.
Once she examines the bills under the light and uses her counterfeit-detecting pen on them, she says, “Did you steal it?”
“Of course not.”
“Of course not. I know you don’t steal. But where . . . ?”
I explain the whole story, concluding that I’ve decided not to do it.
When I finish, she doesn’t respond for a long time, fanning herself with a magazine. I’m about to tell her to forget about it. We’ll talk later. But then, she says, “I think you should.”
“What?” I was sure she’d agree with me that I couldn’t take advantage of Victoriana like that. Like me, she has scruples. Why is it that only people with no money have scruples? Do we have no money
because
we have scruples? “You actually think I should take the money when I know I’m not going to find the prince?”
Victoriana’s shoe is in my backpack, still on my shoulders, and I feel its heel digging into my back.
“No,” Mom says. “I think you should take the money and look for the prince.”
“There’s a difference? She thinks her brother’s been turned into a frog. She’s nuts.”
“Maybe she’s not that nuts. Maybe she has faith. Maybe she must believe in something even when all hope is gone.”
So I know what this is about: Dad. Mom really thinks he’ll come back someday.
“The girl has her hopes.” Mom glances at the wedding photo on the table. “Who says there’s no magic?”
“Who says? Again, we’re talking frog princes, like the fairy tale.” But even as I argue, the fact is I want to do it, not only for the money—though ten grand would solve a lot of problems. With ten grand, I’d be sitting in air-conditioned comfort right now. We could get a lot of creditors off our back and maybe even agree on a payment plan with the others. But more, there’s the adventure, the getting out of the bowels of the hotel for once and doing something fun. I want to be one of those crazy people who believes in ghosts or the Loch Ness Monster. They have more fun than sane people. Once, I repaired some hiking shoes for a guy who claimed he was looking for a Sasquatch loose in Florida. Sounds more fun than my summer. And Victoriana said I could keep the money even if I don’t find the prince.
But what if I get in trouble for it? I don’t know much about Aloria, other than that they have a really hot princess. What if they still believe in torture there? I remember reading once about some kid who visited a foreign country and got publicly beaten with a stick for some minor crime. Maybe they’d behead you for stealing from the princess.
My neck aches a little, just thinking about it.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, standing up. I know I won’t, though. I got to talk to the princess. That will have to be enough.
“Where are you going?” Mom says.
“Back. To repair shoes, like always.”
“So Ryan says you came back with a face full of lipstick.”
Meg throws the word “lipstick” like it’s a stink bomb, one I know Ryan enjoyed hurling at her. She’s disgusted with me. She thinks I’m another sap under Victoriana’s spell. Maybe I am.
“So is she going to make you her boy toy or something?” Meg’s voice is like when I sliced my finger with a big sewing needle.
“I was just messing with Ryan about the lipstick,” I say, trying to sound cooler than I feel. “It was Marisol’s. I borrowed some.”
A lie can travel halfway ’round the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.
That’s been attributed to Mark Twain, but no one’s sure if he actually said it.
Meg looks pleased with my lie, in any case. We have a joint interest in keeping Ryan’s manatee-size ego in check. “So is she going to wear the shoes?”
I cradle my hand in my chin like I’m thinking, but really, I’m checking for residual lipstick. Part of me wants to tell Meg everything that happened with Victoriana. I know she’d laugh at the idea of a frog prince. She’d say Victoriana’s obviously taken too many drugs. But I promised the princess I’d keep her secret. Besides, another part of me knows Meg wouldn’t approve of the kiss.
So I say, “What do you think? I didn’t even get to talk to her. She was still passed out.”
“Typical.” I can tell Meg’s sort of happy about being right. Still, she says, “Don’t worry. You’ll find some other way to make it. You’ve got talent.”
“Yeah, talent for fixing shoes.”
“I’d wear your designs in a heartbeat.” She reaches over and begins massaging my neck. Her fingers feel strong, and it’s nice to have someone rub my neck, even if it’s just Meg.
“That feels good. My neck gets really sore, leaning over the counter all day.”
“Yeah, mine gets the same way.” She starts using both hands, rubbing my shoulders too. She smells like coffee and a little like the ocean. For a second, I close my eyes. “Ever think things happen for a reason?” she asks.
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You don’t know it at the time, but there’s some bigger purpose. Like maybe it didn’t work out with Victoriana because something else is going to happen.” She leans closer.
“I guess.”
“It’s not so awful being here, is it?”
Yes. Yes, it’s awful.
But I say, “No, it’s just, she’s so beautiful.”
Meg stops rubbing my shoulders.
“Hey, why’d you stop?”
She walks away, not looking at me. “I have work to do. So do you.”
She goes back to her shop and starts rearranging the sandwiches—which already looked perfect—in their glass case. She gets so into what she’s doing that I can’t catch her eye for the rest of the afternoon. A couple of times, I think I see her glancing at me, but she looks right back down, and I wonder if she’s mad at me for saying Victoriana’s beautiful. It’s hardly news, though.
Oh, well. I’ll make it up to her. I have time now.
I start working on Victoriana’s shoe, even though I don’t want to because delivering it means telling her no, telling her I can’t do what she wants. The broken strap is delicate yet strong, and as I repair it, I anticipate seeing her again, slipping it on to her foot.
If only it wasn’t going to be the last time I see her.
It is a wishing cloak. With it, you will find yourself any place you wish to be.
—“The Salad”
When I finish repairing the shoe, I call the princess’s room and ask if I can bring it up.
As expected, his answer is a curt, “
Non.
I will come for it.”
He’s downstairs almost as soon as I put down the phone. I recognize Bruno, the guard Victoriana said was her most trusted, the one who practically sprained a face muscle glaring at us. I hand him the shoe, then stand there, not knowing what to say next.
Bruno breaks the silence. “If you think she has a message for you, she does not. Boys like you are only playthings to Her Highness.” His English is surprisingly good, with much less of an accent than Victoriana’s. “Your dalliance means nothing. Ze princess is already betrothed.”
“Really? She doesn’t think she is.” I regret the words the second they’re out of my mouth. Why argue with him?
He scowls. “Ze princess, she is not so smart. Her head is in all kinds of places. She must be protected.”
I hear the unspoken words,
from you.
I shrug. “I just wanted to give her the shoe. Now I have.”
It’s clear he wants to mess with me some more, but he must decide against it because he leaves. An hour later, one of the chambermaids drops a key card on my counter. I know without asking it’s the key to Penthouse B.
At 1:55 in the morning, I cross the lobby, hearing each squeak of my sneakers on the marble floor. It’s the perfect time. The late-night partiers have mostly come back, and the room service order cards have been picked up, but the
USA Today
s aren’t yet being delivered. The lobby parrot cage is covered, and the swans are asleep. The night clerk is playing an online game, and the morning maids haven’t started vacuuming. I am alone, unnoticed. The elevator rushes to the top. I feel my organs clenching against my chest. Wonder if I’ll have to knock on her door. Will the guard be waiting outside? Will he chase me off?
When the bell rings, I jump as if attacked by a cat. The elevator door begins to close before I recover, but when I push against it, it opens.
Victoriana is waiting for me when I enter. Dressed in one of the hotel’s white terry-cloth robes, her blond hair in braids that almost reach her waist, she looks like an angel from a Christmas card. She presses finger to lips and, with her other hand, takes me by the wrist. Her skin is cold, and I can tell she’s afraid, which makes me afraid too. She pulls me inside the suite. It’s pitch-dark except for one shattered sliver of moon on the oriental rug, revealing the worn, black shoes of her sleeping guard. I stay close, fearing tripping, fearing any sound, fearing everything. My breath seems loud. If they catch me, will they think I snuck in here to hurt the princess? Will they execute me?
Finally, she pulls me through the bathroom door. I stumble a bit and hear her whisper, “Fool!” under her breath. Then, she pulls the door swiftly, but quietly, shut.
The bathroom is bigger than our apartment, with a Roman tub, a bar, and three sinks. There’s even a sofa. The toilet is in a small room of its own. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Victoriana!
“You will help me, yes?” She’s smiling.
I blink and forget being called a fool. She’s beautiful. To talk to her is bliss like no bliss I’ve ever felt. I need to tell her no, but I can’t. I can’t! If I say no, the adventure will end, and I don’t want it to. “Uhhhh . . .” I gesture toward the door. “We won’t get caught?”
She shakes her head. “Do not worry. I take care of him.” She mimes swallowing a pill.
“You drugged the guard?” It’s hot that she’s so ruthless.
“Only one sleeping pill, crushed in his mashed turnips.” At my questioning look, she says, “Mashed turnips, zey are ze national dish of Aloria, very good for hiding. I once put a caterpillar in my governess’s when I was small. And ze pill, it is perfectly safe. I take zem myself, for it is hard to sleep since my bruzzer . . .” She looks down, sad. “But soon, you will find him, and I will sleep soundly once again. We shall sleep soundly togezzer.”
She smiles, and it’s like standing out on the beach, feeling the sun on my face.
The clouds roll in. I can’t help her.
I clear my throat. “Listen, I need to . . .”
“Wait!” She holds up her hand and starts across the floor. She opens the door to the toilet, then reaches behind it and takes out something like earbuds for an iPod. “Zis is ze magical earpiece I told you about, ze one which ze Alorian witch created. It will let you talk wiz ze animals—only ze animals zat once were human.”
“Are there many of those?” I ask in spite of myself. She’s so pretty that it’s easy to forget she’s crazy. I wouldn’t mind being part of her world, with talking animals and enchanted frogs. It sounds pretty there.
“More zan you would believe. Zey will help you find my bruzzer.”
Like Snow White!
“About that. I have to tell you—”
“When you reach ze Keys, you will find ze right animals.”
“How?” I shouldn’t ask. I’m not doing this. I’m not. I’m not.
“If I knew more, I would already have found him!” She crosses the room again, her shoulders a hard line, and I wonder if I’m supposed to follow her. But she goes behind the bar. I figure she wants a drink, but instead, she pulls out a piece of green cloth. She walks back and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” It’s velvet, so heavy I feel myself start to sink under its weight.
“A cloak.”
I’ve read enough books to know that a cloak is sort of a big cape, but needless to say, they’re not popular in Miami. “Why a cloak?”
“Zis is a special cloak zat will transport you anywhere you want. You must only wish it.”
“Wow.” She’s nuts, and she wants to marry me. What does that say about me?
She nods. “It is an heirloom which has been many years in my family. It belonged to my great-grandmuzzer, who was a witch. She bewitched my great-grandfazzer to marry her, and zat is how she became queen from a commoner. From zen on, she did not need ze cloak, for she had means to go where she wished. But as a girl, I played wiz it, so I know it works.”
I examine the cloth. It smells of outdoors, like a place you’ve been before but don’t remember. I wonder if Victoriana used it to get away.
It’s just a piece of cloth.
“Wherever you wish, it will go,” she says. “I only caution: Do not let others use it.”
“Why would I do that?”
She shrugs. “Smarter men zan you have been tricked.”
I decide to play along. “Okay, how does it work?”
“You wrap it around you, and zen—”
There’s a knock on the door. I jump about a foot and come down on the marble floor in a skid. I hear the dull clunk as my head rams into the Roman tub. “Ow!”
“Princess!”
“Merde!”
Victoriana’s waving her arms at me, gesturing toward the tub, whispering, “He is awake! Hide!” She answers the guard sweetly in French, but the pounding continues.
“Princess!” A string of French words.
I climb inside the tub. It’s as deep as a pond, and I lie at the bottom, pulling the cloak around me as if that will keep me from being seen. Victoriana closes the shower curtain.
“Un moment, s’il vous plaît.”
I lie there, hearing Victoriana’s breathing and my own. She flushes the toilet, and then I hear her footsteps toward the door. My heartbeat. I’m a dead man. The door opens.
Victoriana laughs and says something in French.
The guard replies and steps inside. I hear him, walking toward me.
I wish I was home. Oh God, I wish I was home.
And then, I am in darkness.
