Manhattan Cinderella

by Kate O'Keeffe

  I laugh softly before turning serious. “You know there can’t be any future in it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he lives in Tennessee. I think he’s only here for a week or two, and he’s a musician, even if it’s only part time.”

  “So?”

  “So, that means he’s probably got girls lusting after him all over the place. I’d be just another one.” As the words leave my mouth, I know I don’t really believe them. Cole may be gorgeous, and by the way he kisses, I’m certain he knows his way around a woman, but he doesn’t seem the type to use girls for sex.

  But then maybe I’m just being a hopeless romantic, looking for that elusive fairy-tale ending?

  She waggles her brows. “So what if he does have women lusting after him? Go get yours.”

  I widen my eyes. “You did not just say that.”

  “Look, thanks to Sylvia, you work like a dog and live like a freaking nun.”

  I cross my arms. “I go out on dates.”

  “Yeah, when?” When I don’t reply, she says, “Exactly.”

  “No! There was that guy a while back. You know, whatshisname?”

  She shoots me a condescending look. “You’re not helping your case, here.”

  I throw my hands in the air, giving up. “Okay, sure. I work like a slave and live like a nun. Fair call.”

  “Gabby, I know I’m only fourteen, and you have so much more experience with guys than me, but the way I see it, if you get the chance to be with a great guy, even if it’s just for a while, go for it. I mean, what’s the harm?”

  “What’s the harm? You mean other than the fact my heart could get broken in two?” I chew on my lip as I consider the searing pain of heartbreak. With all the challenges of my life, I’m not sure I could take another blow. I let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Cece. Sure, he’s good looking and—”

  “And hotter than any guy you’ve ever known. Come on, Gabby, he’s swoontastic!”

  “Swoontastic? What are you doing, making up new words now?”

  “It’s a word.”

  “Sure it is.” I shake my head as I let out a puff of air. “The Ellas said he was swoon-worthy last night, too. There’s way more to Cole than just that, though. He’s—” I pause as I search for the words. “He’s sweet, and thoughtful, and talented, and funny, and a whole host of things any woman would want in a man. How can I have a fling with someone like that and not fall for him?”

  “Gabby, you are so overthinking this. I say go for it.” Her eyebrows waggle like they’re doing a Mexican wave. “Just have some fun and forget about everything else.”

  I can do that. I can have some fun with Cole. I don’t need to make this into a big thing. We can be just two people spending some time together while he’s here in the city, getting to know one another, enjoying one another’s company. And if that just so happens to include more of that incredible kissing like last night, then all the better.

  All I’ve got to do is make sure I protect my heart.

  “Hey, I have some news on the plan to get us from Sylvia’s evil grasp,” I say.

  Cece’s face lights up. “Is she finally going to make good on her promise to Dad and let you sing?”

  I arch a brow. “What do you think? No, we should have known she was never going to follow through on that.” When the reality registers, her excitement quickly disappears. “It’s better than that.” I press my lips together and pause for dramatic effect. “Cole has agreed to introduce me to Rex Randall.”

  My announcement doesn’t have the effect I was aiming for. Cece simply wrinkles her brow. “Isn’t Rex Randall, like, really old?” She pulls a face like she smells a bad odor.

  “What’s that got to do with anything? He’s forty-two. Younger than Dad. The point is, if I can showcase my singing to him, he might help me. He’s influential and could get me in front of the right people.”

  “So Cole is hot and useful? Score.”

  “Now, get up and do your chores before they wake up.”

  “It’s early. They won’t get up for hours.”

  “I need to run an errand I forgot to do yesterday and if Sylvia notices—”

  “The Eye of Mordor sees everything!” Cece says mockingly, using one of her many nicknames for our loving stepmother. And yes, I’ve whispered an apology to J.R.R. Tolkien on her behalf more than once.

  I pretend to glare at her, only half meaning it, and then spy the clock. She still hasn’t moved from her bed. “Up!”

  Once Cece finally drags herself from her bed, we complete the morning household chores. And thanks to the fact Sylvia and the girls do nothing around the house, there are a lot of them.

  On our way out, we tread carefully past the master bedroom so as not to wake Sylvia. Cece stifles a giggle when we hear droning snores emanating from her room. I shoot her a warning stare.

  Finally, as the elevator doors swoosh closed, I let out a long, relieved breath.

  “Hey, who were you were hanging out with yesterday?” I ask.

  “Oh, they’re just some kids I know.”

  Not helpful. “You seemed to like one of the boys,” I lead.

  Cece looks down at her fingernails. “Oh, you mean Thaddeus?”

  “Thaddeus? Well, that’s a name for you. Do you call him ‘Thad?’”

  She shakes her head. “No way. He’s a Thaddeus.” She says it like it’s a good thing? “He’s just a friend.”

  “Come on, you were totally flirting with him.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” She smiles as though I can’t see right through her fib.

  I nudge her shoulder with mine. “You like him.”

  She bites back a genuine smile and shakes her head. “Stop! It’s embarrassing.”

  “So, it’s okay for you to rib me about Cole, but I can’t talk about Thaddeus?”

  “You got it.”

  I roll my eyes. Teenagers. “Not gonna happen. Any boy you like is fair game as far as I can see.”

  In the lobby, Jerome greets us with his habitual warm smile. “You’re out early, ladies.”

  “Got places to be, Jerome, places to be.” I shoot him a smile.

  Out on the street, we say a quick hello and goodbye to Clive the doorman then walk to the end of the street to hail a cab.

  Cece gives me a quick hug. “No need to pick me up after school today.”

  A cab pulls up beside us.

  “But I like to.” Seeing Cece’s smiling face after being at the Pop Princesses’ beck and call is the highlight of my day. Plus, there’s that small detail of her recent shoplifting past. Maybe I’m erring on the side of overbearing big sister, but I’d prefer to know she’s out of harm’s way, safe with me.

  “Gabby, I’m fourteen. I can get myself home, you know.”

  Yes, but that’s not the point. I paste a smile on my face. It’s been weeks since Sylvia found those stolen clothes. Maybe it’s time to lighten up? Trust Cece again? “Sure. I’ll probably be busy anyway. You know, band stuff.”

  “And maybe Cole stuff, too?”

  “Maybe.”

  She backs away from me. “See you later!”

  I watch as Cece turns and walks down the street. I flag down a cab and tell the driver where I’m heading. After a crawl through traffic, we pull up outside The Cobbler King. As I push my way through the front door, the overhead bell chimes. I immediately spot Stavros behind the counter. His head is bowed, his half-moon glasses balanced on the tip of his long nose as he examines something in his hands.

  “Good morning, Stavros.”

  He looks over the top of his glasses at me, and his face creases into a smile. “Ah, Gabby. My first customer of the day. You have come for the shoe.”

  “Sorry I didn’t make it yesterday. I got distracted.”

  He sounds happily suspicious when he asks, “By that young man with the nice manners?”

  I press my lips together to stop from smiling. “No, I had things to do.”

  “Of cou
rse you did.” He can see right through me.

  “Stavros.” I give him a warning look.

  “No mind.” He places his hand over his heart. “As long as you are happy, that is all that matters to me.”

  I laugh, my heart warmed by his words. “I’m doing just fine.”

  “Good, good.” He reaches behind himself to collect the shoe. “Right, here it is.” He places the silver high-heeled sandal on the counter, and the wannabe princess inside me lets out a wistful sigh. It really is a stunning shoe—and far too good for the likes of one of the spawn.

  Not for the first time, I wish it was me wearing it to perform at the concert next weekend. Me who will be watched by thousands, feeling like I can accomplish anything. Me with the world at my feet.

  Who knew a simple shoe could elicit so much?

  “I fix here and here, and stitch here.” Stavros’ words pull me back to the present.

  I pick the shoe up in my hands and gaze at it. “It’s perfect. Stavros, thank you. You always do such a great job.”

  “You are one of my best customers, Gabby. Always here with the broken shoes.”

  I roll my eyes as I think of how often I end up in Stavros’s shop. Who knows what they do to their shoes, but it sure keeps Stavros busy. As I reach into my wallet to pull out some cash, the bell over the door chimes. I pay for the repair, and Stavros opens the register with a ping.

  “Anyone seen my tour guide?” a low and familiar voice behind me asks.

  The shoe still in my hand, I turn around. My jaw hits the floor when I see Cole standing in the store. His lips curve into that oh-so-sexy smile of his—the smile I thought about as I drifted off to sleep last night, just like I knew I would. He’s wearing his jeans and boots again and what looks like a fresh T-shirt, showing off his strong, muscled arms. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  He takes a step closer to me and shrugs. “I wanted to see you.”

  Talk about cutting through the BS. Straight to the point, no games.

  “I need my tour guide. I’ve been promised a proper tour of this city, and so far, all I’ve seen is a statue of a dead guy with a duck and an old bridge.”

  I playfully push out my bottom lip and pout. “I thought you liked the bridge.”

  He catches my drift. “I liked it a lot. Maybe we could visit another one today?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Heat pools low in my belly and my lips twist into a smile. We both know we’re not talking about a freaking bridge. “I thought you had a meeting this morning.”

  “It was canceled.” A brief shadow passes across his face before his smile returns, and I wonder what his meeting was about. His eyes drop to my hands. “The shoe’s fixed, huh?”

  “I repair for Gabby. Make it like new,” Stavros says from behind me, reminding me that Cole and I are not alone.

  “Good morning, sir,” Cole says to him. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Hello.” Stavros nods and smiles at Cole then winks at me. “Still has very nice manners.”

  “He’s from Tennessee, remember?”

  Stavros nods. “Ah, yes.”

  The bell above the door chimes and a woman who looks ready to take on Wall Street enters, talking loudly on her cell phone. She bustles past Cole and me to the counter. “Just get it done, Hugo,” she barks into her phone. She presses her screen and dumps a pair of boots onto the counter. “I need these fixed yesterday.”

  Cole leans into me. “Remind you of anyone?”

  Ah, Sylvia. “I’m sure I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I deadpan.

  I shoot Stavros a sympathetic smile and wave.

  He discretely rolls his eyes at me before returning his attention to his demanding new customer.

  Cole opens the door for me, and we walk out onto the busy sidewalk. We amble together, aimless, enjoying being together.

  “I only have about half an hour. I’ve got to get this back.” I hold the shoe up.

  “I bet you’d look amazing in that shoe. Well, if it was part of a matching pair, that is. Otherwise walking would be tough.”

  “Maybe you’ll see me in them someday.” I’m enjoying the flirting, but chances are that won’t happen. Britney would never let me borrow a pair of her shoes, let alone this gorgeous one and its matching partner.

  “I’d like that.” His smile becomes a little lustful. “I’ve been thinking about you. Last night was fun.”

  Fun? It was the best night I’ve had in a long, long time. I don’t tell him that, of course. I need to play it cool. “Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for, you know.”

  “What?”

  “The walk, the bridge.”

  His eyebrows ping up. “You’re thanking me for kissing you?”

  I laugh, embarrassed. “Yes?”

  He wraps his arm around my shoulder as we dodge a particularly focused man who is clearly in major hurry. “Tell me about The Ellas. You’ve been friends a long time, right?”

  “We went to high school together. We met on the first day and became insta-friends.”

  “Is that the school Cece goes to, the one we went to yesterday?”

  “The very same. St. Martha’s.”

  He lets out a whistle. “That place is fancy, right?”

  “I guess it is. It’s a private school. Hard to get into if you don’t know the ‘right’ people. I know Izzy’s family had to sacrifice a lot to send her there. I was lucky. My parents were comfortable.”

  “In my experience ‘comfortable’ is the word rich people use to describe themselves.”

  I laugh. “Maybe? My dad’s a hot-shot property developer in the city. Well, when he’s not off communing with nature or whatever it is he’s doing this month.” Cole gives me a quizzical look, and I feel I need to explain further—despite knowing I’ll be letting him in. “He took off a while back. After a heart attack.”

  Cole stops and turns to me. “That sounds serious.”

  “It was at the time. I freaked out when I got the call that he was in the hospital.”

  He puts his hand on my arm. It feels nice, reassuring, kind—all the things I know I need to do my best to avoid noticing. “But he’s okay now?”

  “Medically, yes. As far as I know.”

  He collects me in a hug, his big arms wrapped around me, the reassuring warmth of his body pressed against mine. “That must have been so hard, especially with your mom gone.”

  A lump rises in my throat, and the sadness I’ve kept locked away inside threatens to spill over. I’ve been strong for so long, endured Sylvia’s harshness, her daughters’ nastiness, forced to try my best to protect Cece from the worst of it. I’ve kept going through it all, hanging on to the hope that things will get better, that I will lead the life I’m destined to live: happy, safe, and loved.

  The kindness in Cole’s eyes drives home just how hard this has all been.

  “When did he have his heart attack?”

  I blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. “It was about a year ago. He wasn’t himself afterwards. It was like he lost his color, you know what I mean?” Cole nods. “His doctor told him he needed to reduce the stress in his life.” I think of Sylvia, a synonym for stress in anyone’s books. “So, he left the city. It was months ago now, and there’s no sign of him coming home any time soon.”

  “Now it’s just you and Cece?”

  “Yup. That’s right. Just me and Cece.” My lie settles like a brick in my belly. I don’t want to tell him about Sylvia and her daughters, how they’ve pushed us up into the attic of our family home, how they treat me like the hired help. I want him to see me as someone else, someone who has her life together. Someone in control.

  The person I want to be.

  I pull away from him and smooth out my ponytail. If he notices the change in atmosphere, he doesn’t mention it. “Shall we go do some sightseeing? Times Square is just around the corner from here.”

  “Times Square?” He looks like an excited puppy. “I’m glad you’ve come
around to my way of thinking.”

  “I figure it’ll keep you quiet for at least a few minutes.”

  Hand in hand, we walk a block and arrive at our destination. Cole looks around and his face lights up. He quickens his pace, his head darting from side to side as he takes it all in. I have to scramble to keep up with his long strides.

  I watch him and my heart squeezes. He’s like an overexcited seven-year-old in a candy store. It’s endearing and sweet.

  “Gabby, this place is a New York icon!”

  We come to a halt in the center. There’s a busker dressed in a pair of jean shorts and not much else singing Achy Breaky Heart with more yelps than a boxful of puppies. The ubiquitous person painted green in a Statue of Liberty costume stands perfectly still, and there are a group of women in bikini bottoms selling something to eager men. All par for the course in Times Square, but through Cole’s eyes, they look exciting, unusual, interesting.

  “Look at that guy.” Cole points at a man dressed as the Mad Hatter, seemingly floating in midair, held up only by a cane in his hand.

  “I could let you know how he does it, but watching you right now, it would feel like telling a kid there’s no Santa.”

  “Wait. There’s no Santa?” he deadpans.

  I laugh. “Oh, there is. I was totally kidding.”

  He pulls me in and kisses me on the forehead. “Well, thank God for that.”

  I beam up at him. After a beat, he spins me around and drapes his arm across my collar bones as he holds my back against his warm body. While I feel his warmth behind me, I stand tingling, looking out at the surroundings, trying to see the world the way he does. He says in my ear, “This place must plow through the electricity.”

  “I bet. Can you believe there are about a million people here on New Year’s?”

  He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Is that another one of your statistics, tour guide?”

  “I told you, I know my stuff.”

  “Except about the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  I spin around in his arms. “Hey, I was right about one thing: it is old.”

  “True. Have you ever been here on New Year’s?”

  “I used to come down with The Ellas when we were teenagers. It’s fun but totally crazy. What do you normally do New Year’s?” I put my hand up. “Actually, don’t tell me: you spend it sitting in some field, chewing on a piece of hay, and talking about your ole horse n’ carriage and how the price of cotton’s doing down at the market.”