I loitered in front of Mémère’s shop, pretending to examine the window display. I could go into The Godfather’s Closet or I could deliver the mail. I wanted to visit the shoes… and check on Reggie, but Mémère had asked me to do this one thing for her.
Maybe I could wear the shoes to the mailbox and back. How the pumps made my insides tingle, and that had been while wearing only one of them. I couldn’t wait to try on both of them.
I had been me… but different. What had happened to me? I wasn’t sure, but I liked it, and I liked it so well that it almost frightened me.
Would Mémère understand about the shoes? How could I explain it to her?
“The right pair of shoes can change your life, Cindi.”
My instructor’s parting words echoed once again. Had she been right? Shoes made a difference. It was as true for Neil Armstrong as it was for Nancy Sinatra. More than landing on the moon or making a hit song, is this what she had meant?
I stepped back from the storefront, but my brain was still glued to the prettiest pair of pumps I’d ever seen, and the way I felt while I was in them. I wasn’t a high-heel kind of girl, but those…
Those made me stare and imagine me doing all sorts of not-like-me things in them.
“Cindi,” Reginald bellowed from the door of his shop. “I didn’t expect to see you so early.”
“I’m glad to see you up and about. You must be feeling better.”
He chuckled. “It isn’t the first time I’ve worked myself into needing an unscheduled rest. Would you like to come in?”
I smoothed my hand over the stack of papers in my pocket, undecided. “I have to get these in today’s mail. For Mémère.”
He took a pocket watch from his apron. “The mail isn’t picked up for another thirty minutes. I have something for you. I wanted to thank you for helping me yesterday.”
“Are you sure about the mail?”
“Positive.”
I rushed inside, my footsteps echoing across the square. In my hurry, I tripped on the threshold and bumped into Reggie. He stopped moving long enough for me to regain my balance. “Sorry about that.”
“Think nothing of it.”
My vision adjusted slowly, but an orange haze filled the room. “Is it smoky in here?”
“I don’t think so.”
I blinked twice and the fuzz disappeared. “I must have imagined it.”
He led me to the counter where the glass shoes rested. They glittered more than they had the day before. Invisible hands pulled me closer.
I couldn’t peel my gaze away from them. The sound of my name came from a distance. Cindi. Cindi.
“We were made for you,” they whispered. The tones ethereal.
Something tapped my shoulder. “Cindi?”
I leapt back, breathing so hard my chest heaved. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you. Would you like to try them on again?”
“Yes… I would…” I drew out the words. “But I have to get to the mailbox… unless…” I scanned the room. “Where is your helper?”
Reggie pursed his lips. “He was a bad employee. I fired him.”
So much for my idea. I started back toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, Cindi. Why don’t you wear them out?”
I whirled toward him. I didn’t want to seem too eager, but that’s exactly what I wanted. “To the mailbox?”
“Of course. They are only shoes. I would love to see them used once more.”
I jogged back to the counter, dancing on my toes. “I would love that.”
He reached for the cube and brushed a hand over it.
A bright red spot caught my eyes. “Have you been painting?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
I gestured toward the red. “I know it’s not blood.”
He froze.
“Right?”
He pulled his sleeve to his palm and rubbed it over the spot, smearing it even more. “Of course not. It’s paint. Something Principe did, I’m sure.”
Worry wormed its way into my thoughts. Something happened. “Where is Principe?”
Reggie shot me a dark look. “I told you. I fired him.”
“But—”
Reggie threw the lid back and a gust of wind careened around the room, stirring the orange haze that had returned. “Principe is of no concern of yours,” Reggie growled. “Put these on.”
I wanted to touch them, wrap myself in them. Shoes make the woman. These would make me into something new. I believed it.
He placed one on the ground next to me. I slipped my foot into the first crystal shoe, expecting the same thrill from yesterday. Yet it didn’t come. I tipped my head to the side and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. I probably need to get the mail to the box, though.”
Reggie raised an eyebrow as though he knew what I had been waiting for. He placed the second shoe next to my feet, and I slipped my other foot inside. Something sharp stabbed my ankle and then disappeared.
From my chest outward, heat surged through me. Colors burned brighter, and pleasure coursed through me. Like the first time I went too high on a swing. Powerful. On the edge of control.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Reggie whispered so close to my ear that it stirred my hair.
I shivered. “So,” I searched for a word that might describe what I felt, “life-changing. What is it?”
“They’re magic shoes that grant special powers to the wearer. They’ve been in my family for generations.”
I danced away from Reggie, twirling to watch my skirt flare around me. “They’re incredible. I love them.”
He drew his watch from the pocket of his apron. “You had best take that mail to the box. They’ll come any time.”
Without another word, I darted out of the building, prancing down the sidewalk. I didn’t want the older man to change his mind about letting me wear them.
When a stranger passed by, I flipped my hair and wiggled my hips. His eyes widened in appreciation. He raised a hand. “Can I—?”
But I had already moved past him too far to hear the remainder of his question.
The mail truck pulled to a stop beside the blue box at the corner.
I waved my arms. “Wait,” I called. “I have something for you.”
The young man sat back in his seat, dragging his gaze over me. His attention warmed me. I slowed and paused long enough to spin, letting him look. I liked the attention.
When I reached the truck, I dragged the stack of mail from my pocket and handed it to him. I crossed my arms and leaned against the mailbox. “Thanks for waiting.”
Without looking, he tossed the envelopes in a box behind him. “Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For brightening my day.”
I giggled.
“What’s your name?” he asked, leaning over the steering wheel of his mail truck.
I tapped my chin. “Ella. My name is Ella. Who are you?”
“My name is Aaron.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you.”
“You have incredible eyes, Ella. Did you know that?”
“I’ve heard that once or twice before.”
“I’ve never seen orange before. Are they contacts?”
No, it’s the shoes. I opened my mouth to tell him.
But the otherworldly voice interrupted. He wouldn’t understand. Don’t tell him.
“A trick of the light,” I said with a wave of my hand.
He didn’t look like he believed me.
“And contacts,” I added.
The admission pacified him, and I turned to leave.
He dove from his truck and caught my arm. “Let me take you out. Tonight.”
“Somewhere nice?”
He paused. “Does that matter?”
“It matters to Ella. To me, I mean. It matters to me.”
He nodded but the space betw
een his eyebrows pinched. “I’ll make a reservation at the nicest place I know. The maître d' is a friend of mine. He owes me a favor.”
“Meet me in front of The Godfather’s Closet. I live there.” It wasn’t the truth, but the shoes lived there, and I wanted to live where the shoes did.
“What time?”
“8 o’clock.”
“I will be there,” he said.
I licked my lips, and he stared at my mouth. I flashed a smile and pulled my arm from his grasp. At that, the mailman climbed back into this truck and motored away.
I hurried back toward my new home.
Reggie ushered me back inside. “Did it go well?”
“They are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn.”
“Naturally,” he said. “Are you ready to return them?”
“I have a date tonight.”
“Good.”
“I have to get back to Mémère. She may have more errands that I need to do before I get ready for my evening out,” I said, backing way as I broke out in a cold sweat. The thought of removing them from my feet sent me into a panic.
Reggie didn’t advance. He only watched me.
The shoes had to come home with me. I spun around and scrambled out the door.
As I bolted into Once Upon a Ballgown and up the stairs to my room, I thought I heard Reggie’s deep baritone laughter echoing on the morning breeze.
Change
Principe
“To wear dreams on one’s feet is to begin to give a reality to one’s dreams.”
– Roger Vivier
I groaned as I shifted on my cot. My muscles screamed from the beating I’d taken. The bars bit into my sore muscles, and I had barely slept at all. But, still, I lived. If I kept interfering, I didn’t know for how much longer.
Cindi would be back today. I glanced at my alarm clock and startled. It was hours past time to open. The beating must have taken more out of me that I thought.
I held my breath to listen. I couldn’t hear Uncle up and about. Had he slept in, too? Perhaps beating me had wearied him. His absence would have been a mercy and might give me a chance to talk to Cindi.
I cried out as I sat up. The beating had been the worst it had ever been. I stumbled from my room, hanging from the wall for support, thankful I didn’t have to traverse the flight of stairs. Each movement sent excruciating pain through me.
As I stepped into the store front, Uncle’s laughter filled the room. “Ah, there you are, Principe. I’m afraid it is too late.”
“Too late for what?” I rasped.
He gestured toward the window.
Outside, Cindi appeared in view. My heart twisted. The shoes sparkled on her feet.
A scruffy-faced construction worker catcalled her. He must have said something disgusting because she turned to glare at him. When she looked up, dark, ugly things flashed in the depths of her eyes. Without losing the pleasant look on her face, she turned and said something to him. Taken aback, his bravado withered, and he returned to his gravel shoveling.
Uncle cackled. He played his part beautifully, but his eyes shone with pleasure. “She has no idea, Principe. She does not know.”
I sagged against the counter. “Know what, Uncle?”
“That the shoes meant for her to steal them. It is the first of many changes.”
The shoes had a hold on her, already twisting the good of her to something else. I could wither into the floor and disappear. She would be another in their list of deaths.
I spied a bag on the floor by the wingback chair. It didn’t belong to either of us, and we hadn’t had a woman in the shop in ages. It had to belong to her.
She’d left her purse. It made the perfect excuse to speak with her out of Uncle’s earshot. Adrenaline propelled me. I scooped it up and bolted out.
Uncle yelled something that the closing door cut off.
“Miss Lass,” I yelled. “Miss Lass, I have your purse.”
She spun toward me. “Oh, that old thing.” She jerked it from my hands and slung it over her shoulders. “I must have left it yesterday. I don’t know why I bother.”
I opened my mouth to ask her another question, but nothing came out.
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as though tabulating the seconds as they ticked by. “Well, what is it?”
Her eyes glittered in the light, dark blue, flecked with silver. As deep as the night skies, I could have gotten lost in them. Every rational thought fled.
Her glare didn’t faze me. “Are you in there, Principe?”
I meant to ask her something, but I couldn’t remember…
She snapped her fingers.
“Oh, yes, I wondered if I might call on you.”
“Call on me? Like a date?” She spat the words.
“Yes, I thought we might have something in common.” I will rip the shoes from your feet and destroy them. A date might be the only way to vanquish them as the midnight clock struck.
She made a face at me. “No. How revolting. Have you looked at yourself lately?”
I sagged against the space between our two shops and dragged my fingers over my face, wincing at each bump, cut, and bruise. My beating marred me. I took a step backward, unexpectedly wounded by her vehemence. Words failed me.
She advanced. Her face twisted in a sneer, and her orange eyes glowed bright. “Well, what did you expect? I would never allow a servant to court me.”
“I’m sorry, Cindi.” I should have protected her. I should have kept her safe.
She shook her head. “You know what? Don’t call me Cindi anymore.”
“What?” The syllable slipped between my teeth before I clamped them shut.
Don’t say it, Cindi. Don’t.
“My name is Ella. I’m not Cindi anymore. Cindi’s dead,” she snarled.
Cindi’s dead. The words impaled my heart and exploded in my chest. She wasn’t who she’d been. The shoes already worked their magic on Cindi Lass.
Ella sauntered away, the click of the heels the only sound on the downtown street.
I slid down the brick wall, grimacing through the roughness. I collapsed on the sidewalk.
The construction worker stopped scraping the pavement. “Hey, bud, you okay? Looks like you had a rough night.”
“I’m fine,” I said. No, I’m not fine. A woman is going to die, and I can’t do anything about it.
He leaned on his shovel. “Need help getting back inside?”
“I’m going to sit here a while.”
“More power to ya,” he said and went back to scraping.
Gradually, I became cognizant of a tapping on my thumb. I scowled and worked to open my eyes. The dull roar of traffic sounds stirred my memory. How long had I been there? The sun had moved, but I couldn’t tell by how much.
The tapping continued.
I glanced down to find Ainsworth at my hand. “Principe. You must come. I know what you can do. You have one more chance to save her.”
I whimpered as my shoulder ground into the brick behind me. “What’s the use, Ainsworth? How can I? I’m too bruised and too broken.”
He shoved his spectacles up his nose and then tugged on my thumb. “A life—any life—is worth it, Principe. You believe this in your heart.”
“Not anymore.”
“She has a date. She will wear the shoes.”
“How do you know where she will go?”
“When you didn’t come to request the daily report, I came looking for you, Principe.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Ainsworth.”
He clasped his hands in front of him, and his little black eyes shone in the sunlight. “You are worth the risk, Principe, just as Cindi is worth it.”
Ainsworth met my gaze without wavering, and my chest swelled. How I wanted to be the man Ainsworth believed me to be.
“A mouse shall lead them,” I muttered.
“You are a prince among men,” my furry friend answered, his snout moved in a quick twi
tch.
I offered my palm, and he climbed into it, seating himself in the space between the lines on my palm. “Tell me what you know.”
“The man Cindi has a date with called the shop, and I overheard Uncle on the phone. They’re going to Tremaine’s. The reservations are at nine o’clock.”
“What will I do? Attack her at the dinner table and steal her shoes?”
Ainsworth squeaked a wheezy laugh. “You’ll be in the paper, Principe.”
He froze at the meow. “What was that?”
“Sounds like a cat,” I whispered.
He ducked behind my thumb when a furry face peered around the corner. Cindi’s cat, Gus, loped to my side, took a seat, and stared at the rodent in my hand. His tail swished back and forth. He wanted Ainsworth.
Ainsworth clutched at his bowtie. “C-c-cat. Good kitty. That’s the cat from next door. Can we go inside now?”
“One moment,” I said.
I scooped Gus into my arms, eliciting a screech from Ainsworth. I deposited the feline inside the shop next door and pushed the pumpkin doorstop aside. The door closed before the cat could escape.
“There,” I said. “Now let’s work out a plan.”
Ella, Interrupted
Cindi
“If your hair is done properly and you’re wearing good shoes,
you can get away with anything.”
– Iris Apfel
The orange tabby rubbed against my legs for the dozenth time as I dried my newly blue-grey tinted hair. I kicked at it, trying to get it to go somewhere else, but it refused to take the hint. It jogged after me and clawed at my ankles.
“Stop it, you stupid cat,” I hissed and threw it out of my bedroom, closing the door behind it.
Smoothing extra pale makeup over my skin, I couldn’t help but admire the goth inspired look. The shoes demanded different, and this wasn’t my normal. It wasn’t average. It screamed Ella.
I jogged back to my closet. I didn’t have much to wear on a date at a fancy restaurant. I crossed my arms as I stared at the limited offerings. I would have to raid the shop. Mémère had to have something in the storeroom. I was sure of it.
Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist Page 5