Saved By The Glass Slipper

by Markee Anderson

  Just as I forced myself up to a sitting position and put my foot on the floor, Mark walked into the room. When I turned toward him, I fell off the bed with my face landing in the thick, soft carpet.

  Mark lifted me and put me back in the bed. “How do you feel?”

  I closed my eyes. “I think I want to die. What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “Ten? In the morning? I have to get to work! I’m late.” Even though I tried to sit up, he pushed me back on the bed, hovering over me as he sat down beside me. Now I knew why I was here. He was a nice guy and protected me from the thug following me at the beach the day before, and even bought me lunch and dinner...I think. The whole day was kind of a haze in my mind.

  “You called in sick today,” he said.

  “I did? I don’t remember that.” Oh man. That was some wine.

  “I did it for you.”

  “The bank manager isn’t going to like that. The nasty one’s on duty today.”

  He stroked my hair. “I think you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  I held my head and ears. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you quit yelling? You’ve been so nice to me and I hate to ask you, but my head is killing me.”

  Mark tried not to laugh as he moved off the bed and knelt in front of me. “Is this better?” he whispered.

  “It’s still loud,” I whispered back. “But I bet that’s as quiet as you can get, huh?”

  “Yeah. Is the room still spinning like it was a few hours ago?”

  “Not really, but don’t tempt it. It might start. Rooms are tricky things and you never know.”

  Mark stroked my hair while chuckling.

  “Did I say anything I’d regret last night?” I asked. “Wait, don’t answer that, because I really don’t want to know, do I?”

  “Are you talking about before or after you pulled me onto the bed?” he whispered.

  “You’re kidding!” Holding my head, I tried to lessen the pain from the noise I made with my voice. I really hoped I didn’t do anything I’d regret, because I hardly knew the guy.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I will worry about it. You probably hate me and want me to leave right now. I can’t blame you.” I tried to get out of bed, but he stood and pushed me back to the pillow, then leaned over and kissed my cheek.

  “I’d rather be nowhere else but right here with you. I really enjoyed our date.”

  “Date? I thought we were going out for a celebration after you showed me your job and we went up the coast?”

  “Well, after you hugged me, I figured—”

  “I hugged you? I don’t really remember much of any of that.”

  “You hugged me in the restaurant, then saluted me. Don’t you remember that?”

  “Not really. What else did I do?” I could only imagine.

  His smile was adorable. “I’ll tell you some time. Would you like something to eat?”

  “I don’t think so. I really need to get home.” As I looked downward, panic filled my thoughts. “What happened to my clothes?” I was wearing someone else’s tee shirt and sweatpants and they definitely weren’t the skirt and blouse I’d worn the day before.

  “You kind of vomited on your clothes, so I helped you out.”

  My face paled while staring at him, imagining the worst. I yanked out the front of the tee shirt and stared down my top. “What happened to my bra?” My hands flew to my ears and I winced from the sound of my own voice.

  Mark shot me a sheepish grin. “You kind of tore it off and swung it around the room,” he whispered.

  I kept my hands on my ears. “I what?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I laughed, because it was funny.”

  “Not funny. You must think I’m a floozy or something!” I had to run away from this adorable man and never show my face in public again. Considering he knew the cops, I was doomed.

  He grinned and held my hand, then leaned down and gave me a gentle, probing kiss. Backing away, he stroked my cheek. “You’re not a floozy, but you’re fun when you’re drunk.”

  I touched my lips from the heat, trying to remember anything. “Did I…”

  “Kiss me?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Or anything else?”

  “Before or after you tried to undress me?”

  My hand flew up, covering my eyes. “I’m not like that. I’m a good girl.”

  “Nothing happened, but I did enjoy it.”

  I had to face him and I knew it. Removing my hand from my eyes, I returned my gaze to his beautiful smile. “I just bet you enjoyed it. I need to go home to get my own clothes and a shower. I’m too embarrassed right now.”

  He nodded down to my chest. “You can stay here in that if you want. I don’t mind. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.” He glanced at my outfit. “You’re really cute in my clothes.”

  “Oh, very funny.”

  “I was being serious. But I’ll take you home if you want, on one condition.”

  I faced him with one eye shut while holding my head from the pain. “What’s that?”

  “I get to stay with you. I don’t want you being alone like this.”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  “But I want to. Since you were being followed at the beach yesterday, I want to make sure you’re safe.” His smile and dimples were just getting annoying. “You’re also a lot of fun, especially when you’re drunk.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I whispered. “My head really hurts. What’s good for a hangover?”

  “I have something ready for you, whenever you’re ready to take it. I found the best cure on the Internet.”

  “Bring it on.”

  He left the room with a chuckle. After returning with a big glass of something reddish orange, he handed me the drink and some aspirin.

  “Bottom’s up.” After sitting up and popping the aspirin, I downed the huge drink with a gulp and a smile, then wiped my lips with my arm. “Oh, that was fun. Have any more?”

  “No, but I have ice for your head.”

  “Really? Think that’ll work?”

  “I know it will.” He left the room with my empty glass and returned with a bag of ice, plopping it onto my head.

  “That’s really cold,” I said with my eyes closed.

  “I think that’s part of the definition of ice.”

  I put my head in my hands. “Can I go home now?”

  “Sure. Need help getting out of bed?”

  “I’m fine.” I put my foot down on the floor and held onto the ice. As soon as I stood up, my knees buckled and I started to fall, but not before Mark caught me.

  “Yep. Thought so.” He lifted me up and carried me out into the hallway while I held the ice on my head.

  “You really don’t have to carry me.”

  He carried me down the stairs while I watched his face. “Yes, I do,” he said. “I’m the one who made you drink the wine.”

  “So this is a guilt release? Take care of me and you won’t feel guilty?”

  He began to laugh, almost dropping me. “No.” He took me out the garage door then put me into the passenger’s side of the car, buckling my seat belt. “When a woman tells me she loves me and wants to have my children on the first date, then begins to even name the children—”

  “I what?” I held my head and closed my eyes. Everything hurt.

  He laughed as he closed my door with a loud bang and walked around the car to the driver’s seat. After he got inside, he reached over and touched my arm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

  “Can you close the car door quietly?”

  He yanked it shut—but it was still loud—then opened the garage door with a remote, the sound of the gears grinding in my ears.

  “I’m so sorry for saying I wanted to have your children,” I said. “Are you sure it was me?”

  “Absolutely sure, and I liked some of the names you picked out, t
oo.” He chuckled, then started the car and backed out of the garage, lowering the garage door. “I find it interesting that you didn’t apologize for telling me you love me. Does that mean you love me?”

  “I hardly know you,” I whispered. “Don’t confuse me with the facts.”

  Mark tried not to laugh, but it wasn’t working. “Do you think you can drive now?” he asked me.

  “I have no idea.” The sun was killing me, but I forced my eyes open, making them water from the bright light.

  He glanced over at me then looked back at the road. “I was going to get your car, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Where do you live?”

  I directed him to my apartment and he parked in the front. He helped me out of the car then grabbed my purse. “Are your keys in here?”

  “Yes.” I pulled them from inside my purse, fiddled with them for a minute, then held one key in my hand. He took them from me with a smile, then carried me to the door, because I was wearing no shoes, while I held the bag of ice on my head.

  After Mark put me down at the front door, he unlocked it then helped me up the old stairs to my apartment on the third floor. He unlocked my door with a second key while I checked the hallway all around us.

  “Looking for someone?” he asked.

  “Just checking.” It was routine for me to look for bad people, but he’d never understand. No normal person would.

  We entered the tiny apartment and I locked the door behind him, flipping the deadbolt as well. The apartment had an open floor plan with a small living room beside a kitchenette with a center island and space for a table beside that. The bedroom was down a hallway off the living room, across the hall from a small bathroom.

  “Are you scared in here?” he asked, watching me.

  “No, not at all.” I threw my purse on the island and the ice in the kitchen sink, then picked up a baseball bat leaning by the front door. Lifting the bat, I slung it onto my right shoulder, then went into the bedroom and bathroom, flipping on lights as I went. As soon as I entered the living room again, I put the bat back by the door.

  Mark shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure you’re not scared?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  He pointed to my weapon of choice. “The baseball bat, maybe?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay with you.”

  “No problem.” Mark looked around the apartment. “You don’t have much furniture, do you?”

  “I have what I need, and that’s enough.”

  “But you have two folding chairs, a TV on plastic boxes, and what else?”

  “I have a bed. It’s enough.” I hated people looking down on me. They didn’t get it.

  “You don’t have a table in this place? No couch, no dresser?”

  He must not have been a minimalist. “Don’t need them.”

  “Or is it that you can’t afford them?” he said. “You know, Madcap would love to talk to you with that background of yours. Those people yesterday enjoyed our conversation about their programming, because you understood what they did and even had more ideas for them they hadn’t considered.”

  I faced him, ignoring his attempt at pleasantries. “How do you know about my background and what I can afford?”

  He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “You told me last night when you were drunk. You said you’d taken a course in cryptology and I told you to put your name in with Madcap. You said—”

  “Madcap just programs games! I’m not a games programmer. I told them that yesterday, too.”

  He grinned. “So you remember the conversation.”

  “Not really, but it’s the truth. My master’s degree will be in Mathematics and Business Computing, not games programming. Why would the best gaming company want to talk to me, anyway?”

  “You’re smart? You had some great ideas for them yesterday, and when we drove up the coast, you gave me some more fantastic innovations that’ll keep my bosses happy for years.”

  He was making a mountain out of a molehill. “I’m not what Madcap wants and you know it.”

  With his hand on my arm, he stopped me from going to take a shower. “I really want you to put your résumé in with Madcap, please? You’d be able to live in a more secure place and actually have furniture.”

  “I do have furniture.” I waved my hand toward a folding chair. “Make yourself at home.” Walking toward the bedroom, I ignored his comment, grabbed some clothes from my closet then went into the bathroom. After I undressed and warmed up the water for the shower, I stepped inside and let the trickle pour over my head. I had the worst headache, but at least it was starting to feel better. Mark’s cure might just work.

  I poured shampoo on my hair and worked it into the long strands, wondering about his company. Granted, the programmers were nice enough, but they certainly wouldn’t want me with my background.

  Suddenly, the door to the bathroom creaked open.

  “Amy?”

  I kept my voice calm. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  I closed my eyes and let the water pour over my hair. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “No, you don’t need to see me naked.” What was he thinking?

  “I already saw that after you stripped and danced naked for me last night.”

  “I…what?” I covered myself and could only think the worst.

  “Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  “No thanks. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Just wait for me in the living room.”

  “I can’t. I’m worried that you might fall over.”

  “I’ll be fine, I promise.” Facing forward, I leaned against the wall of the shower with my eyes shut. I didn’t feel very well. Never again would I drink a drop of alcohol.

  “You don’t look fine to me.” The voice came from behind me inside the shower. I jumped, turning my head to see him.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, covering myself with my arms. “I’ll be out in a minute, and I promise.”

  “Nice body, by the way.” He chuckled, closed the shower curtain and left me alone.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  I heard him walk out of the bathroom, then took a deep breath and finished my shower. He was either a psycho or he really cared about me. Considering I was still alive after whatever happened the night before, I was leaning toward the latter.

  I turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, then dried my hair inside the shower, squeezing out the water from the ends. Mark kept going through my thoughts. What really happened the night before? Bits and pieces came back to me, the more I thought about it. We’d spent time together at Madcap, then took a trip up and down the coast, hunting for seashells and walking on different beaches. After spending a wonderful afternoon, we walked into the restaurant and sat down at a table filled with red roses. He poured us some wine, and that was all I remembered until I woke up.

  I dried myself off and inched back the shower curtain, checking to make sure I was alone. The door to the bathroom was shut, so I opened the curtain farther, stepped out and got dressed. After I combed my hair, I brushed my teeth, then applied some makeup over my pasty, hangover-looking skin. Alcohol was not my friend and I decided that was my new mantra.

  The phone rang as I applied some makeup. “Can you get that?” I yelled into the living room.

  “Sure.”

  I heard a ‘hello’, then ‘yes, this is her apartment’. I didn’t hear much more, because I decided to dry my hair, since it was dripping. Whoever it was could wait, because the only people who ever called me were my brothers, telemarketers and…Connor. Uh-oh.

  I flipped off the hair dryer and ran into the kitchen, where Mark was in a heated discussion on the phone.

  “No, she’s with me today.”

  Uh-oh, just as I thought—Connor. I held out my hand for
the phone while Mark smiled and shook his head.

  “Sorry, buddy, it’s over and you lost.” He hung up the phone and grinned.

  “Connor?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  He nodded, his hands flying to his waist. “How long has he been playing psychological games with you, anyway?”

  “Two years, and I’m not sure if they’re psychological games either.”

  “Oh, yes they are. He even has you doubting his technique. I’m really glad he’s gone and you were at the beach yesterday.”

  “Yeah?” I asked with a grin. “I vaguely remember that. Hot dogs, right?”

  “Yep. You’re better off without that psycho. He was even trying to get into my head.”

  “He’ll be here soon. He lives about a mile away, and I don’t keep that bat at the door just for security purposes.”

  “I say we leave right now.”

  “But I was going to eat breakfast.” I pulled a bowl out of the cabinet, then opened a drawer for a spoon.

  “You don’t have anything to eat in the fridge anyway.” He put the bowl away then grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he said. “I’m paying.”

  I stopped him before he opened the door. “You think of me as a charity case, don’t you?”

  “No. I think of you as very strong, very bright, and independent.” He looked around the living room. “Anyone who has the tenacity to stay here by themselves is a force to be reckoned with.”

  I put Mark’s clothes that I’d been wearing into a bag and we left the apartment. Just as Mark opened the passenger’s car door for me, an older four-door lime green car pulled into the parking lot.

  “Who’s that?” Mark asked.

  “Connor. Let’s get out of here.” I hopped into my seat.

  Before Mark could run around to his side, Connor—a small wiry man with thick glasses and a black beard—got out of his car and stormed over toward us. I looked at Connor—Mr. Negative Seventeen—then at Mark—a definite twenty, who was muscular and much cuter than Connor could ever be. What was I ever thinking when I went out with the psycho idiot? Even Mark’s red sports car was a lot cooler than Connor’s lime green clunker.