Cinder & Ella

by Kelly Oram

  “There is a whole room full of people out there. Any one of them could have heard you.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  I pulled the last AWOL strawberry from beneath the fridge and stood up. After chucking the container in the garbage, I noticed Kaylee was still standing there, waiting for an answer. The only one I could think of was “Good.” She’d hated that response so much when I gave it to her at the club in front of all her friends that I’d adopted it as my number-one reply lately.

  “Why do you insist on being difficult?”

  Snorting, I pinned her with an obstinate look. “Maybe because I’m being blackmailed into a fake engagement with the Wicked Witch of Hollywood?”

  Kaylee glared again and then stomped her foot as she huffed in annoyance. “Your father’s here, and he brought Zachary Goldberg with him,” she said, storming out of the room.

  No way. I followed her out of the kitchen and, sure enough, there was my father and one of the most prestigious film directors in LA standing behind the sofa with beers in their hands, cheering on the Green Bay Packers.

  “Hey, Dad. What are you doing here?”

  Even more shocking than my father’s presence was the huge, happy smile he greeted me with. “There’s the man of the hour!” I tried to hide my shock as he jovially clasped his arm around my shoulders. “Son, you know Zachary Goldberg, don’t you?”

  Still stunned, I shook hands with my idol. “We’ve never met, but it’s an honor. I’ve followed your work since I was a kid.”

  A hand slipped around my waist and forced my smile to stay up as I introduced Kaylee. “Ah, yes,” Zachary said, leaning in to kiss Kaylee’s cheek—the customary LA greeting for someone of the opposite sex. “My congratulations to the happy couple. Between the surprise engagement and your upcoming movie together, the two of you are the talk of the town right now.”

  Kaylee subtly squeezed the arm she had around me in a very “I told you so” manner. “All good, I hope,” she said, as if she were the first person to ever come up with that oh-so-clever response.

  I tried not to roll my eyes at the cliché. If Kaylee could be half as smart as she was evil, she’d be a genius.

  Zachary was polite enough to laugh with her. “It’s all very good,” he promised, shifting his eyes to me. “Especially in regards to you, Brian. I’ve heard all sorts of buzz about your performance in The Druid Price. Your father was just showing me some of the footage this afternoon. Very impressive.”

  I tried to contain my surprise, but my head was spinning. Zachary Goldberg was one of my all-time favorite directors. He had a true talent for drama and had been nominated for more Academy Awards than Steven Spielberg. Praise from him was hard earned. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Zachary, Brian. Please.”

  “Okay, Zachary. Well, welcome. Make yourself at home. I hope you like the Packers, because any Patriots fans have to watch the game from outside, and they only get the cheap beer.”

  Zachary laughed heartily as he shook his head. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve got the wife at home waiting for me. You know how it is.” Zachary glanced between Kaylee and me, grinning. “Well, maybe not yet, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

  Forcing a laugh, I pushed my acting skills to the limit. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Zachary believed the lie. “I just wanted to stop by and meet you in person. I’d love to set up a meeting with you sometime soon. I’ve got my hands on a brilliant adaptation of The Scarlet Pimpernel, and I think if I had you attached, I could get the green light.”

  My jaw nearly dropped to the ground, but this time I didn’t bother to try to hide my excitement. “You’re doing The Scarlet Pimpernel?”

  Zachary’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “You’re familiar with the story?”

  Was I familiar with it? “I love the story. I’ve read all the books. I would kill to play the part of Sir Percy.”

  Zachary chuckled. “I knew you were the man I wanted to talk to. Are you available to meet sometime this week?”

  “I—hold on.” I turned to where my friends were all still engrossed in the game. “Hey, Scotty!”

  I’d invited my assistant, and the poor guy was so Boy Scout that the few Playmates present kept mauling him. He hadn’t stopped blushing since he arrived, and he looked really relieved to be needed at the moment. “What’s up, Brian?”

  “Do we have time to meet with Mr. Goldberg this week?”

  “We’ll make time.”

  “I’ll come, too!” Kaylee jumped in. “I can bring my father,” she told Zachary. “He’s a big fan of Brian’s, you know. I’ll bet the three of us could talk him into signing on.”

  Zachary licked his lips and gave Kaylee the biggest smile I’d ever seen on a grown man. “That would be fantastic, Kaylee.”

  From the way Zachary’s eyes lit up, I wondered if that hadn’t been part of his intent all along. Everything in Hollywood was always a power play. Getting the millions upon millions of dollars needed to fund a major motion picture was never easy no matter who you were, and getting the green light for a classic period piece like The Scarlet Pimpernel was damn near impossible.

  “I’m not familiar with the story,” Kaylee said, “but it sounds pretty exciting.”

  “Oh, it is. And you would look stunning in an eighteenth-century costume. I’m sure we could find a place for you in the film somewhere, if you were interested.”

  “What a generous offer, Zachary. Thank you.”

  I watched the two of them schmooze each other with a sense of astonishment. I may have hated Kaylee, but even I had to admit the power that I, as Hollywood’s hottest up-and-coming actor, and Kaylee, the heiress of the city’s largest motion picture studio, had together.

  Kaylee was right. We could own this town together if we really wanted to. The problem was: I didn’t want to. Not if Kaylee and I had to be a couple to do it. As flattered and excited as I was about possibly working with my favorite director playing another of my favorite characters, I was worried that Kaylee was going to like the power we had a little too much and not want to let me go after the awards season was over. Somehow, I was just getting sucked in deeper and deeper.

  My little heart-to-heart with Juliette didn’t change anything between us, but I was eternally grateful to her for introducing me to Vivian. Vivian and I didn’t have a lot in common—she was a prima ballerina and obsessed with anything fashion related, while I was content reading books and hadn’t been to a mall in over a year—but we still got along like sisters who’d been suddenly reunited after being separated at birth.

  She ate lunch with me again the next day and insisted I come home with her after school and do my homework at her house. Knowing what was waiting for me at home, I was grateful for the offer.

  She lived in a smallish apartment in West Hollywood. It was old, cramped, a little disorganized—actually, it looked like Jo-Ann Fabric had exploded inside—but it felt more like home after being there for three seconds than my dad’s house probably ever would.

  “Ignore the chaos,” Vivian said as she picked up a pile of hot pink tools out of the entryway and hung it over the back of a chair. “I’ve tried to explain to my dads that gay men are supposed to be neat freaks, but they refuse to listen.”

  Her dads were in the dining room, lost in a sea of brightly-colored fabrics, sequins, lace, and feathers. One was sitting behind a sewing machine while the other was standing, pinning a sleeve to a gorgeous dress on a sewing mannequin. They both looked up and grinned when we walked in, their smiles as bright as the dress they were working on.

  The one standing pulled a pin out of his mouth and said, “Honey, if we wanted to be stereotypes, we would have become hairdressers.”

  “Says the man wearing a teal boa.” Vivian laughed and, waving a hand at the man, said, “Stefan Euling—aka Dad. Dad, this is Ella.” Next, she gestured to the man at the sewing machine. “And that’s Glen Euling.
He also answers to Dad.”

  After saying hello, I watched Stefan work for a moment. The strand of feathers around his neck matched the sequins on the dress. “It’s for the hem of the dress, right?” I asked. “You’re making a ballroom dancing dress?”

  The man grinned at me as though he’d never been prouder of anyone in his life. “Good eye!”

  “My mother dated a professional salsa dancer once. I was never graceful enough for the sport, but I loved the dresses.”

  “They’re the main costume designers for that reality TV show Celebrity Dance Off,” Vivian explained. “As you can see, they like to bring their work home with them.”

  “No way!” I squealed. “I love you guys! The dresses are the only reason I watch that show! Is that dress for one of the dancers? Is it for Aria? It looks like an Aria dress.”

  Vivian rolled her eyes at me. “You’ve just made two new friends for life.”

  “It is for Aria,” Stefan said. “You really are a fan, aren’t you?” His eyes roamed over me from head to toe with a critical eye, and then he said, “Dress size 1-2, right?”

  I looked down at my school uniform, a little startled that he’d guessed right. The outfit wasn’t really form-fitting to begin with, and I’d untucked the shirt the minute I climbed in Vivian’s car. “To my dietician’s dismay,” I answered, nodding. “He’s always trying to get me to gain more weight. How did you know?”

  Glen laughed. “He always knows. The man has a gift for sizing people up. If the majority of our clientele weren’t women, I’d be insane with jealousy.”

  “A little jealousy is healthy for a man,” Stefan teased. “Keeps you in line.” Before Glen had the chance to argue, Stefan smiled at me and said, “Would you like to try the dress on? I need to make a few adjustments, and you’re almost exactly Aria’s size. You’d be the perfect stand-in.”

  A surge of excitement rushed through me at the thought of putting on the dress, but it was soon replaced with horror as I pictured myself in the sleeveless, backless gown.

  “I promise not to poke you,” Stefan urged.

  “Oh, it’s not that.” I gulped and it felt as if I’d swallowed one of the pins he promised not to stick me with. “It’s just, um, I was in a car accident and I…um…”

  “Ella, nobody here is going to care about your scars, I promise,” Vivian interrupted. She sounded firm but kind, and the look in her eyes said she wasn’t going to let me say no.

  “But it’s such a beautiful dress. I’d just spoil the effect.”

  “Hogwash!” Glen looked up from his stitching with a disapproving frown. “You have the face of an angel. Those eyes are stunning. If anything, that dress doesn’t deserve to wear you.”

  I blushed at the smile he flashed me.

  “Ella,” Vivian said softly, “true beauty comes from inside a person. If you feel beautiful, then you’ll look beautiful to others no matter what’s on the surface.” She pointed at the dress hanging on the mannequin. “That dress would make anyone feel beautiful. Just try it on, please? For me? Because if you don’t stand in for them, they’re going to make me do it, and I have a much more important task to deal with right now.”

  “What task?” I asked, distracted from my panic attack.

  She held up a handful of fabric scraps and something that looked suspiciously like a bejeweling gun, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I’m going to give your cane a little cosmetic surgery.”

  Ten minutes later, I stepped out from behind a changing screen in a dress made for a queen. The skirt flowed to the floor, covering my legs, but my entire back, shoulder, and right arm were exposed. I cleared my throat to get everyone’s attention, then held my breath and tried not to shake too much as they appraised me.

  They all took in the sight of my scars—I couldn’t blame them; it would have been impossible for anyone not to look—but none of them stared too long before moving their eyes to the rest of me.

  Glen rose from his seat at the dining-slash-sewing table and came to stand in front of me with his arms folded across his chest. Stefan joined him, and the two of them began slowly circling me like a couple of lions stalking a gazelle.

  “Oh, we are good,” Glen finally said, breaking into a wide grin.

  Glen twirled his finger as if he wanted me to turn around. I did, and came face to face with a full-length mirror. I gasped at what I saw in the reflection. Glen scooped my hair up and twisted it up on my head, pulling a few of my curly black ringlets down around my face. “What did I tell you?” he asked. “An angel.”

  He was right. I looked amazing, and I wasn’t even wearing any makeup. The dress, along with the way Glen and Stefan stood behind me, smiling almost reverently at the girl in the mirror, made me feel beautiful for the first time since my accident.

  My eyes glistened and I turned around, grinning at Vivian for all I was worth. “I love your dads.”

  “You won’t be saying that hours from now when your feet are aching and you have to pee and can’t because you’re covered in pins,” she teased, but the smile on her face betrayed how much she loved and was proud of her parents.

  “Hours?” I asked as Stefan helped me up onto a stool.

  Stefan waved us off as if we were being ridiculous. “A small price to pay for such a work of art,” he said, shoving a handful of pins in his mouth.

  He and Glen both got down on their knees at my feet. While Glen held out the bottom of the dress and pulled the material tight, Stefan unwrapped the strand of teal feathers from his neck and reached for a pin. He took particular care in finding just the right placement before carefully attaching the feathers to the hem of the dress. They were like a couple of surgeons operating on a patient. I really could be standing here for hours.

  “You’re not related to my physical therapist, are you?” I asked. “He likes to find unique ways to torture me, too.”

  That set all three of them into peals of laughter. Glen looked up at me with sparkling eyes and pointed at Stefan. “I wouldn’t get him laughing like that, if I were you. He was lying about his ability to not poke you.”

  We all laughed again, but despite Glen’s warning I felt no stabs of pain. After that, Stefan and Glen went to work on the dress while Vivian began hot-gluing pieces of fabric to the metal shaft of my cane. It was either going to look like a beautiful patchwork quilt or something out of a Tim Burton film. After a minute of comfortable silence, Vivian said, “So, I sit next to Rob Loxley in seventh period…”

  I blushed, recognizing the name as the guy Juliette said had a crush on me. Vivian didn’t notice. Her concentration was solely focused on the project in front of her.

  “Really nice guy,” she said. “Cute, too. Quiet, though. He hasn’t said much to me all year and then, suddenly, out of the blue, yesterday and today he became Mr. Chatty.”

  My face was really heating up now. “Hmm, weird.”

  Vivian glanced up at me for a second, then went straight back to work cutting and gluing. “I tried to think what could possibly have happened in the last two days that he would suddenly take an interest in me, but nothing has changed. Nothing, except that I’ve become friends with you.”

  She finally stopped what she was doing and gave me a look that said we both knew what she meant. There was no point in denying it. “Juliette said he likes me. She offered to give him my number. I told her I’d think about it.”

  “You’d think about it? Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s a decent guy, Ella. He wouldn’t care about the scars or the cane. Especially after I make it look so cute.”

  “Maybe, but that’s not the only problem. I’m not in the best place mentally right now. I don’t know that a relationship would be a good idea.”

  Vivian frowned. “That sounds suspiciously like an excuse. Are you sure you’re not just scared?”

  “I’m terrified,” I admitted.

  Vivian considered this and then shook her head. “Well, who says you’d have to ge
t into a relationship? Maybe you could just be friends. You’re the one who told me you’re under doctor’s orders to make more friends.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Maybe.”

  “You could invite him over here for a movie night this Friday along with some of the kids from your dance studio,” Glen suggested. My face turned an even deeper scarlet as I realized he was trying to help play matchmaker. “It would force your father and me to have to finally clean up around here.”

  Vivian jumped up as if she could snatch the idea out of the air and make it happen. “Ooh! I like it!” I wasn’t sure if she was more excited at setting me up with Rob or the idea of her dads cleaning up a bit. “What do you think?” she asked me.

  I was saved from having to give an immediate answer—even though I knew she would eventually get her way—because my phone rang.

  “I’ll get it!” Vivian chirped, happily reaching for my backpack.

  “That’s okay; I’m sure it’s just Cinder. He can leave a message.”

  “Cinder? That’s the guy who’s not your boyfriend, but texts you like a twelve-year-old girl experiencing her first crush?”

  I laughed. It was a fair comparison. “I’ve recommended he seek help for his phone addiction many times, but he never listens to me about anything.”

  “Well, we can’t let him go to voicemail, then, because he’ll just keep calling back until you answer.”

  “Vivian!” I warned, but she’d already scooped up my phone.

  “Relax. I’ll put it on speaker. You can cut me off at any time.” She answered the phone, doing her best imitation of a perky secretary. “Thank you for calling Ellamara’s phone. I’m afraid the priestess is currently busy lending her body to a couple of ruggedly handsome men right now, and is unable to take your call. Would you care to leave a message with her ever-so-helpful assistant slash best friend?”

  I choked back a laugh, but Cinder didn’t miss a beat. “Great voice inflection and enunciation, but there were two things very wrong with that little speech. First of all, I am Ellamara’s best friend. Me. Not you, whoever you are. Me, me, me.”