by Miranda King
“Well.” She paused and assessed me with her eyes as if I were a chess board. “I suppose not.”
“These dolls are also sculpture,” I said. “Their bodies are molded, not to be looked at naked, but for the display of their artistically designed clothes.”
I reached into the bag at my side and spread on the table the lipstick-colored skirt suit from Red Zinger Dania, the meadow-hued top from Vibrant Dimension with its teeny pearl buttons running down the back, and the georgette-layered dress, with its delicate shades of pink, from She Comes in Colors.
She ran her fingers across the satin of the Red Zinger suit jacket. “The stitching of this is incredible.” She set it in the palm of her hand. “And it’s even lined.” She laid it down and scanned her eyes across the other items. “Makes me want to wear colors again,” she said in a low voice.
Then she sat up straighter in her chair. “Still, I don’t approve of anything that draws attention to women’s bodies, and not their brains.”
“Why can’t we have it all?” I pointed out.
Her lips wobbled a second as if trying to decide whether to curve into a smile or a frown. “Why not, indeed.” She looked me up and down with her lively eyes… and then she smiled.
But this was a matriarch who could bring Mr. Princeton to heel with a well-practiced look from his youth.
Was I convincing enough?
“But, Ms. Wellborn, what about those nipples?” she asked.
I thought not. She might as well have said, “Checkmate.”
“Probably done for their undergarments,” I told her.
Mr. Princeton just had to jump into the conversation right about now. “So these dolls have panties?”
Yep, leave it to him to point that out. Although I thanked my lucky stars that he’d moved us on from the nipple conversation.
“Of course,” I said. “Fashion Royalty dolls all have panties, as far as I know.”
“That pleases me.” Her voice matched the warmth of her eyes. Then she gestured to Princeton. “See if the panties are adequate.”
He arched a brow at her.
She crossed her arms. “You can’t tell me you’re afraid of panties, Princeton?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
I couldn’t help but to add, “And these are only doll panties.”
That did it. He picked up the doll with a challenging glint in his eyes directed at me.
He inclined his head towards me as if he was waiting for my permission. I remembered how he said men don’t look up women’s skirts in Maravista, unless invited. Guess that also extended to dolls.
I inclined my head back to him, and his lips curled like the devil’s tail.
He slipped his finger up Irresistible Dania’s leg and lifted her beige cotton skirt. “Aha.” He belabored his investigation, offering no more elaboration.
Ms. Modesto watched him with dancing, amused eyes. “You don’t have to be that thorough, Princeton.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said. “I’m trying to determine if they’re matching.”
“What’s matching?” I asked.
“You and this doll,” he said. “See.” He lifted up her skirt only enough for us to see a portion of her panties. “Red.”
Hells bells, he was referring to my red panties.
I knew it. He knew it. But, hell if she needed to know it, too.
I sputtered to Ms. Modesto, “I think he’s referring to the color of my dress.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He smiled that devil’s grin of his.
Ms. Modesto’s lips formed a cupid’s bow.
Dear Lord, she knew exactly what he’d meant.
I gulped and fixed a stare, away from both of them, out the window as if the cars passing by in the distance were the most fascinating thing in the world at that exact moment.
It was a better option that climbing under the table.
I heard Ms. Modesto say, “I want to see,” and the sound of rustling and jostling. After a pause, I heard her say, “No, no, hold them up for me.”
Then Mr. Princeton grunted something.
I resisted turning back to them, but the whole situation was like gawking at a car wreck on the side of the road. Despite what you might find, you just had to look.
First thing I noticed, those red panties. They were propped up backwards on the tip of his finger for display. And Ms. Modesto angled his finger this way and that way to examine the panties in the light.
Next thing, Mr. Princeton. In addition to the red panties, he wore this I’d-rather-be-anywhere-else-than-here expression.
Poor man. Despite his earlier comment about my red panties, I did feel for him.
He didn’t look the type to surrender to anything, so perhaps it was time I threw down for him the white flag… which in this case were the red panties.
“Why don’t you keep them,” I suggested to her. I plucked the panties off his finger and handed them to her. “They’re from Glamour to Go Adele and part of a lingerie set.”
“Lingerie?” She examined the panties. “I really don’t want my son handling lingerie.”
“Since panties can be considered lingerie, I can’t guarantee that,” I told her. “Should we try to make arrangements to transfer Pierce out of my class?”
“I don’t want Pierce transferred.” She slipped the panties into her black purse, and then she focused on me. “I just wanted to see for myself.”
“You’re welcome to come back to the classroom and pick out the doll clothes you want him only to work with.”
“No, no,” she explained. “In the interest of full disclosure, as you’d mentioned earlier, I didn’t come for the dolls,” she said. “Although I still believe what I do about the dolls, I know Pierce is eighteen, and I wouldn’t embarrass him by taking him out of your class, nor even picking out his doll clothes.”
“Then what did you come to see?” I asked.
“The woman who made Princeton smile again,” she said. “I saw it today when I helped him pick out that dress you’re wearing.”
It was Mr. Princeton’s turn to look out that window.
She could’ve knocked me over with a feather off her fascinator.
She got up to leave and rounded the table to Mr. Princeton, who stood for her. She tiptoed up and laid a hand on his cheek, like a mother would. “You’ve been at war with yourself for years… don’t let the bitterness win.”
I stood, and instead of a kiss-kiss this time, she embraced me. She then stepped back and looked me over from head to toe. “Beautiful and smart. Yes, a woman can have it all,” she said. “Thanks for teaching me that today.”
Mr. Princeton opened the door for us, and I followed behind, taking an opposite turn down the hallway to leave them alone. There was an emotional bond between them that I had witnessed today, and it seemed too private for me to intrude any longer.
I was halfway back to my classroom when Mr. Princeton came up from behind me.
“Here,” he said, “let me walk you the rest of the way.” This time he placed his hand securely against the small of my back.
My body swayed into him, and he drew me closer. Words weren’t needed, but the unspoken ones lingered between us.
I broke the silence. “Your nanny didn’t seem as bossy as you made her out to be,” I teased him. “At least not to me.”
“She wasn’t your nanny.” He smiled at me, and my heart skipped down the hall with him.
“She looks so young,” I said. “She must’ve been fresh out of school.”
“That’s how my father preferred them.”
My lips formed into an “O”.
“She was my favorite,” he said, “and I hated it when she left.”
“She seems to be doing well now,” I said brightly. “She and Fallon have Pierce.”
“No, she had Pierce. Fallon never married her.”
My lips formed into another “O”.
We were about to make the turn to my hallway, and I said, “I think I
understand why she wears black now.”
“And your opinion is?”
“Do you really want to hear?” I asked, and he did. “I think she’s been used by men for her body and now she tries to cover it up,” I said. “She wants to be loved for herself.”
He stopped, halting me along with him. “God, you really did go to Harvard.”
“If you’d read—”
“Your packet,” he said. “Yes, I know. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you.” That was a statement, not a question. He was already getting to know me.
“And where’d you go?” I asked.
“Maravista University.”
“That explains a lot,” I taunted him.
“And then after a year, I transferred to Oxford.”
My lips formed in an even wider “O” this time, and I repeated, “Oxford. Huh, that’s almost as good as Harvard.” I smiled up at him. “And the military?”
“Right after that, but that’s a story for another time,” he said. “Maybe over dinner?”
“Is that allowed?” I asked. “I mean, you’re my boss and all.”
He laughed. “This isn’t lawsuit-crazed America.”
“I keep forgetting that,” I said. “Things are so similar here, yet so very different.”
“Are you wanting to go home?” He seemed to hold his breath.
“No.”
“Good.” He breathed out.
“But…”
“Yes?”
“I just wished I had Granny here.”
“The one you said would like me.” It was his turn to tease me.
“Don’t get a big head over that,” I said. “Because, if you do, Granny will be sure to point out that she got a bronze Olympic medal in pistol shooting.”
“Good to know.” And he laughed.
He resumed walking me around the corner, and we were no longer alone.
Michael.
Why the hell was he here? And pacing outside my classroom door?
“Sass,” he said, approaching me. “Where’ve you been? You haven’t returned any of my calls.”
Then, as if Michael had just noticed the man beside me, he gave a curt nod.
Mr. Princeton didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Instead, his hand tensed against my back, and then he dropped it away to cross his arms in front of him.
Michael ignored him and kissed the side of my cheek, as he always did, but this time he braced his hands at the tops of my shoulders. He let his fingers slide down my arms, and then when he was done, he gave Mr. Princeton a bragging wink.
My fingers itched to slap Michael, but I remembered the scandal my last slap had caused.
Yet I was pretty sure that was a growl I heard from Mr. Princeton.
Michael looked at his watch. “Listen, I’m just glad you’re safe. Divina said you had some sort of bike accident.”
I’d called her at lunch, and I should’ve known she’d call Michael. She’d called me back to say that Michael had ordered a car delivered to the school and for me just to accept it for my own safety.
“I’m fine now,” I said. “You didn’t have to come down here.”
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Princeton said to him, “I’m taking care of her.” He stepped in between Michael and me.
“She’s here under my protection,” Michael said to him. “I’ve got this.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t see Mr. Princeton’s face, but he flexed his hands into fists, and I did get to see a brilliant display of rippling muscles across his suit at his back and biceps.
Michael added, “For the past year.”
Mr. Princeton inhaled a long breath and then finally released it. “Fine.”
But nothing was fine. He was walking away… he was walking away…
“Mr. Princeton,” I called after him, but he continued to walk away, without looking back.
Michael checked his watch again. “Listen that American delegation is in—”
“Yeah, I heard.” On my garbage truck tour this morning.
He placed a set of keys in my palm and folded my hand around it. “Black Mercedes at the curb out front.”
“But—”
“I don’t care if you keep it or consider it a loan, but promise me you’ll take it or I’ll worry sick over you.” He stared straight into my eyes. “As a friend, Sass, at the very least, promise me.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“Swear?”
“Yes, I swear.”
“That’s my girl.”
I handed him the keys. “I’m not your girl.”
He wouldn’t take the keys back. “Keep them.” He winked. “No strings attached, my friend.”
But there were plenty of loose ends, like Mr. Princeton.
As soon as Michael left out the back entrance for some meeting, I darted through the hallways to see if I could catch up with Mr. Princeton.
Multiple buildings comprised the school, and I was the last classroom at the back of the farthest building. It was a seven-minute walk to the front. I knew that because Ms. Krusher had told Ursula in the front office to dock my pay, not only during my time out in the parking lot with Mr. Princeton, but also those additional walking minutes to my class this morning.
But my time with Mr. Princeton at the bike rack was worth every penny.
There he was ahead, about to go into his office.
“Mr. Princeton, Mr. Princeton,” I called out. No response. “Mr. Princeton.”
I ached everywhere from my heart to my feet.
A girl had to maintain her dignity, even in a foreign country, and that involved not chasing after a man who clearly didn’t want to be chased after. I would not call his name again.
“Mr. Princeton.”
Okay, so his name accidently slipped out.
He stopped.
When I caught up to him, we walked side by side, but the unspoken words between us pushed him several feet away from me.
“I forgot I’d left that doll up in the conference room,” I said. Less risky to offer a half-truth than to spill my guts that my true reason for running through the halls like a hoodlum was to search for him.
Ahead of us, the long windows at the front of the school showcased the stretched shadows of the sun preparing its descent into the secret night.
Even those fancy cars from this morning out in the parking lot had virtually all taken off for the night. However, at the curb were two cars, one red and one black. That black one had to be from Michael.
Mr. Princeton halted and focused on something out the window. “Ms. Wellborn, will you follow me outside for a minute?”
I’d just acquired four blisters—each had a biting sting that shot up my legs—to be near him right now. Yep, you bet I’d follow him, even if I had to limp.
But I gave him a nonchalant, “Um, I guess.”
Outside at the curb, he stopped between the black car at our left and the red car at our right.
“Did Michael give you this black car?” he asked.
It was a Mercedes, and I pressed a button on the key fob. It answered us back with a click-click, and the doors unlocked.
“How’d you know?”
“He wanted everyone to see you driving with the royal crest.” He pointed to an emblem on the front of the car that I hadn’t even noticed until now.
He withdrew a set of keys from his pocket. He did a click-click and the doors on the red Mercedes unlocked.
They appeared to be similar cars, although only one had a royal crest and they were different colors. Don’t ask which model. I wasn’t a Mercedes dealer. Safe to say, they were much better than my flat-tired bike still sitting over in the bike rack.
He extended his hand with the red Mercedes keys for me to take. “Do you want this car or his?”
“What do you mean?” I stared at him and then the keys.
“Consider the red car on loan from the school,” he said. “We don’t often get A
merican teachers with a Harvard degree here.”
“But—”
“Choose one, and let’s be done with it.”
I glanced between the two cars and back at him. His arms were crossed, keys still in hand, and his legs braced in that wide warrior’s stance I’d seen this morning when I’d arrived in a garbage truck, with my rickety bike hitched as a tagalong.
And now, some twist of fate had brought me not one, but two cars. Not just any cars, but two from among the best this world had to offer.
He’d said I had to choose one, but wasn’t I a lucky girl either way? Yet something about his demeanor made me feel like I was picking more than just a car. If this was a test, I’d earlier locked myself into an answer with Michael that I couldn’t erase easily.
Seconds piled up like a traffic jam. I was stuck.
“I’d already promised Michael—”
“Michael it is.” The way he said Michael’s name pierced through me. He veered away without looking at me, but he didn’t go back inside. Instead, he grabbed my bike over at the rack and asked me to pop the trunk so he could set it inside “your and Michael’s car.”
“No, not mine and Michael’s car. Just his,” I said. “I should clarify, Michael and I are—”
“Who you’re seeing is no concern of mine.” He shoved my bike into the trunk.
“I’m not seeing Michael.”
“He might see things differently,” he said. “A man doesn’t let just any woman drive his car.” He slammed down the trunk of Michael’s car. “It lets the world know where he likes to keep his car parked.”
Oh, I picked up on the sexual innuendo of that, all right.
“I have not parked Michael’s car, and as far as I’m concerned, he can park his car wherever the hell he wants,” I snapped. “We’re friends, nothing more.”
“Maybe there’s a time when I would’ve believed that,” he said. “But over the years, Michael’s had too many friends.”
“Like you’ve had Margarita Girls.”
Oh, should I have said that?
A muscle twitched in his cheek.
I thought not.
We were spiraling down a rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland, although ours was lined with barbed wire.
“I didn’t mean to say that.” I bit down on my bottom lip to punish my mouth. I gazed towards the setting sun. Time was slipping away. “Maybe if you’re free tonight, I could take you up on your dinner offer?” I focused back on him. “I wouldn’t mind spending time together as friends.”