by Jo Michaels
He might not have thought it was a big deal, but with the ideas in her head right then, to her, it was the biggest deal in the world. Twenty minutes meant they’d have no time to do anything but get their costumes on once they got back to the apartment. Frustration filled her belly, replacing the desire. “Okay. Fine.”
Once the bakery opened, they went in and inspected the cake. It was a beautiful confection that showcased Princess Snow White lifting her overlong dress to reveal that she was standing on a stack of fairy tale books built up like bricks so she’d be taller.
Simone gasped and leaned in to get a closer look, examining the fine details. Silver sparkles, white roses, and shimmery pearls graced the folds of the gown, and the book titles were prominent on the spines of the tomes at her feet. All but one, the top one. It had no title, but the infinity symbol was clearly embossed on the cover. Elated, she shook the hand of the man who created it, paid him with a generous tip, and helped Tristan carry the cake to the truck. It got to ride on the front seat, and she jumped in the back, eager to see her mother’s face when she laid eyes on it for the first time.
They managed to get the huge confection into the apartment without dropping it, rushing to get ready afterward. Intricate braids were woven into Simone’s hair, and then the strands were coiled and pinned in place on her head to create interesting patterns. She applied base and sparkly powder liberally to her face but went light on the eyeshadow, choosing a light blue rather than her usual black. Black mascara was brushed on in a single stroke so as not to overdo it, and then a baby pink lip gloss that made her lips sparkle like a true princess was smeared on her lips. Last, she put on the diamond-encrusted crown and the huge, blue dress and stepped into her glass slippers.
When she opened the door, she nearly fainted.
Tristan was wearing tights and a tunic that hugged him in all the right places, boots that went up to his knees, a red velvet cape, and a velvet and gold crown, his foam sword strapped onto his belt.
“You look awesome,” she squealed.
“Holy crap. Look who’s talking.” His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open, but he seemed to be stopping himself from touching her.
She knew the feeling. No way would they get out of the bedroom if they got anywhere near one another in that moment. Clearing her throat and stepping out of the bathroom and into the hall, she offered her arm. He took it, and they walked down the hallway together, toward the voices in the living room—one of them clearly her father’s.
“Simone!” Her dad rose to his feet and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “You look so grown up! I almost didn’t recognize you.” Releasing her, he backed up and took her in, and then he noticed Tristan. “And who’s this young man?”
“Hi, Daddy! This is Tristan. My fiancé.” She grinned, waiting for the bomb to fully register its drop.
Slowly, realization seemed to dawn. “Fiancé? What?” Her dad’s face turned a light shade of red, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Since when? Where’s the ring?”
“Since about a month ago, and I don’t have one yet. It’s not officially official.” She leaned toward him. “He wanted to meet you first, and probably ask your permission, you know?”
“Oh.” Dad cleared his throat. “Well then. Nice to meet you, young man.” Extending a hand, he moved the few feet to close the distance.
From the wince on Tristan’s face when their hands clasped, it was a little too hard, but he didn’t mention it. “Nice to meet you, sir. Simone’s told me a lot about you.”
“I just bet she has.” Dad turned. “Where’s your mother?”
“She should be out any minute.”
As though it were a cue, Yvette opened the door to her room and floated down the hall. She was stunningly beautiful in a pink dress that draped over her curves, hugging her in all the right places.
Simone and Tristan doubled over when Waymon came into view. His sparkly blue dress hit him right above the knee, and his blue tights and wings were a shade lighter, but no less sparkly. Giving a twirl, he leapt and landed like a pro, brandishing his wand and grinning. “You like it?”
She couldn’t talk, could barely breathe she was laughing so hard. All she could do was nod.
Tristan was in the same state, and he actually moved to give Waymon a high-five.
It was unexpected, but amazing, and Simone thought again how awesome it would be to have him in their lives forever. He was a lot of fun. Never in a million years did she expect to see him in a Merryweather costume—so much better than a grass skirt.
Waymon was introduced to her father, who was dressed up as the sultan from Aladdin, and then everyone got to meet the new wife, Brandy, who was, obviously, in costume as Jasmine.
Simone wondered why not a sultana, but tossed the idea away when she thought about how the new wife was a lot younger than Daddy Dearest.
Dad never took his eyes off Yvette as she spun around the room with Waymon, and Simone’s heart settled, knowing the guilt was strong. Daddy was probably sitting there wondering why he’d ever left such an amazingly beautiful woman in the first place. It was everything Simone had planned, and she felt like she’d be able to sleep better, knowing she’d made him see what he’d actually done.
Waymon never stopped smiling, and his eyes were glued to Yvette through the whole evening. He brought her punch, food, and helped her cut the cake, cheering her on as though he wasn’t wearing sparkly blue lady tights.
Love for the man crept into Simone’s heart and settled there, sure her mother was in the best hands possible. Finally, Simone would be free to leave if she needed to, and that’s exactly what she had planned. Discussing it with Tristan was the next step. It would happen that very night.
Once everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, everyone but the family left, excluding Waymon and Tristan. Yvette called them into the living room and requested they sit. Only she and Tristan were left standing, and he excused himself for a moment while she thanked everyone for coming. When he returned, he had the book in his hands.
Simone choked, her airway cutting off at her Adam’s apple, bile rising to fill her mouth. What the hell is he doing?
Yvette turned and took the old tome, presenting it to those gathered. “This is why we’re all still here. It seems my daughter thinks this book cured my cancer.”
Everyone eyed Simone, and she sank into the couch, her gaze glued to Tristan, her mind spinning with the level of betrayal she was feeling.
He shot her a small smile before turning back to the family.
Mom continued. “As you’re all aware, there’s no such thing as a magic book that cures cancer. If there were, it would’ve been known before now, and it certainly wouldn’t have been sold to an eighteen-year-old girl.”
Dad rose. “So what? Let her hold onto it if it makes her feel safe.”
“I’m not done, Kennedy, so please, sit down and listen without talking.”
Simone’s eyes panned to Waymon, who was sitting in the chair across from her, looking like he was going to vomit. He obviously didn’t like what was happening, but he probably didn’t feel as though he had the right to intervene.
She withered further. Things were about to get very bad.
“Because of this book, Simone has nearly lost the love of her life, she’s lost her temper on a number of occasions, and she keeps it with her at all times—even in the bathroom. She’s obsessed with it. I told her three weeks ago that I’d give her time to let it go, and she hasn’t, so that’s why we’re all here.” Yvette turned toward her daughter. “I’m going to burn it. You’re going to watch.”
“What? Mom! No!” Simone was on her feet in a flash, making a grab for the book, but Tristan cut her off by jumping in the way. “Tristan?” She shrieked. “Why? You know the book works! You were there!”
His face fell, and he reached for her, ostensibly to hold her in his arms and give comfort, but maybe for restraint.
In a graceful sidestep, she moved out of his re
ach, allowing him to stumble forward. He blushed and glanced around the room.
Mom had an eyebrow up. “What’s she talking about, you were there?”
“I don’t know, Ms. B.” He turned green as he said it, and he couldn’t meet Yvette’s eyes.
“This is what I’m talking about! She’s making things up in order to keep it. You all have to help me take it away from her and do what has to be done.” She spun around, her eyes wide like a madwoman. “Simone! Sit.”
There was no way in hell Simone was about to do anything her mother or Tristan ordered. In an act of open defiance, Simone crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Fuck you.” Then, she turned toward him. “Fuck you, too, you double-crossing piece of shit.”
“Simone! Language!” her father said. “This is all out of hand, Yvette. For God’s sake, it’s a book! If the child wants it, let her have it! I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
“It’s the harbinger of deceit and anger! Don’t you see the way she’s behaving?”
He glanced at his daughter. “I might be acting the same way if you did something like this to me. Calm down and think!”
“Oh, I have. I’ve thought long and hard. When I first came home from the hospital, she’d get so nervous when it was out of the room that she’d be totally distracted or run to check on it every five minutes. Then, later, she screamed at Tristan because she left it behind and he was asking her why he needed to go get it right away, but she hadn’t told him it even existed until that night. Then, she promised me she’d get rid of it within three weeks, yet every time I checked her bag, there it was. Does what I’m doing sound all that unreasonable now that you know the whole story?”
His mouth twisted down. “Not really.”
“So? Do you agree we should burn it?”
“I don’t think we need to go that far.”
“Oh, really? Because I’m telling you, she won’t let it go any other way.”
“You can’t burn it!” Simone screamed, her anger finally reaching its pinnacle. “If you destroy it, I won’t be able to help anyone else.”
“It’s not a magic book, Simone!” Her mother’s face turned red, and spit flew from her mouth.
Waymon got to his feet. “I’m leaving. This is no place for me. I’ll call you, Yvette.” Once he got to the door, he turned back. “Or not.”
Wood on wood sounded like a gunshot as it cut the visual between him and those seated by slamming shut.
Simone planted her hands on her hips. “Way to go, Mom. Show your bitch side to your boyfriend and chase him away already, just when I was beginning to really like him.” She turned toward her dad. “Daddy? You gonna help me out here, or are you on her side?”
“Princess, I think it’s best if we simply get rid of the thing, cut it off cold turkey. It’s harder to wean off something you love than it is something you don’t care for or is hurting you.”
“It is hurting her!” Tristan joined the fray. “Look what the stress has done to her! Have none of you noticed her aging?”
Both Mom and Dad squinted at their daughter. He pulled his eyebrows together so hard they nearly touched, and Yvette’s mouth fell open as though she were seeing Simone for the first time.
Neon green rage boiled in her veins, and she spun on Tristan, her voice so low it was nearly a growl. “Leave. Get the fuck away from me and don’t ever come back. Ever. I trusted you! I can’t believe I trusted you. You’re just like everyone else. Liar. Faker. User.”
He backed up so fast he stumbled and fell onto the couch, eyes wide, mouth turned down.
Next, she rounded on the others in the room. “I hate you all. You’re so fucking close-minded it makes me sick.” Without Tristan being up and able to get in the way, she took three quick steps toward her mother and yanked the book out of her hands. “I’m outta here.”
Simone didn’t bother changing. She went right for her backpack and keys, shoving the book inside, and running out the door, down the sidewalk, and to the car. With nowhere to go besides Lilian’s house, Simone fired off a text and drove that direction. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to pull over after a mile or so and breathe, trying to put the incident in the back of her mind so she could focus on getting where she needed to be. No tears had been shed yet. She was far too pissed off.
Lilian had already opened the gate and was waiting on the porch, so Simone pulled up the drive and cut the engine. When she got out, Lilian wolf-whistled.
“Not bad, Simone! What’s up?” As she walked down the sidewalk, her expression changed from a smile to a scowl. “You look really angry. Everything okay?”
Those were the words that broke the dam of tears, and they flowed out, hot and fast, down Simone’s face, ruining her makeup job and staining the bodice of her dress with splashes of brown, black, and blue.
“Oh my God! Come on in. We’ll talk about it.”
They went to Lilian’s bedroom first, and she handed Simone some sweats to change into, guiding her to the bathroom so she could clean off the makeup, too. She was handed face-cleansing cloths, and then Lilian left, promising coffee near the pool in five minutes.
When the door shut, Simone’s shoulders slumped. It was too much, too many emotional bricks on her shoulders for one day. She felt alone, betrayed, and her heart was broken worse than it ever had been. How Tristan could’ve done what he did was inconceivable. He promised. Her eyes flew to her reflection, and she grimaced. “He’s not the first boy to lie to a girl. Don’t be stupid. Wash your face, and get downstairs so you can talk it out with Lilian.”
Resolve slowly flooded into her, and the anger returned anew. There was no recovering from that level of betrayal. It was so much worse than anything else he could’ve done. She expected that kind of thing from her mother, but never in a million years had Simone imagined it would be Tristan who stabbed her in the back right when she handed him the knife and turned around.
“Dammit!”
Marble vanity and her knuckles collided, and she stuck her fist in her mouth for a second before picking up a cleansing cloth and getting to work. “All I need is to break my stupid hand. Ugh.”
About six minutes or so later, she was walking through the sliding doors that led to the pool.
Lilian was already sitting in one of the chairs, two steaming cups of coffee on the table nearby. She perked up. “Heya. I was beginning to wonder if I needed to come find you.”
“Nah. I just had a moment.” Simone held up her hand and shrugged.
“Wow. That looks bad. Let me get you some ice.”
“I don’t ne—”
But Lilian was already pulling the door closed. She was back in a flash, carrying a tiny bag of frozen peas. “Here, sister.”
“Thanks.” When Simone put the cold pack on her hand, it did help, and the pain ebbed a little more. “Oooooh. Yes. Thanks.”
“See? Your girl’s got your back.”
“I know. You always have.”
“Now, drink that coffee and tell me what the hell happened.” Lilian lifted her own cup and took a sip and then cradled the vessel between her hands, curling one leg underneath her body.
“It’s the longest story ever,” Simone said.
“I have all the time in the world right now.”
After hemming and hawing, she took a deep breath and told the whole story of the book, Tristan, the readings, and the intervention. “And now you know.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lilian screamed, her face red as a beet. “I warned him. If he comes anywhere near this house, I’ll have his dumb ass arrested! The nerve of that guy!” She shook her head and smacked her coffee cup on the table, sloshing the creamy liquid everywhere.
The air filled with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
Up and off the chair, she paced, ranting, until Simone cleared her throat. “Uh, Lilian?”
“Yeah?”
She pointed to the mess on the table. “I’m pretty sure abusing coffee like that is e
nough for a court martial in some countries.”
“Aren’t you pissed off?” Lilian asked. “How can you joke at a time like this?”
“What else can I do? I already cut them all off and told him I never wanted to see him again. It won’t get me anywhere to roam the streets, causing a ruckus.” A lump formed in Simone’s throat, and she blinked back sudden tears. “He betrayed me. Plain and simple.”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry.”
A moment later, Lilian wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders, letting her cry it out.
“I’m both relieved and terrified I’ll never see him again. Despite what he did, I still love him. So much,” Simone said, between snubs.
“I know you do. He was pretty much your first everything. No way do you just get over someone like that.”
“Is it horrifying that all I want is for him to come after me right now and explain?”
“Maybe a little.” Lilian chuffed. “I’m kidding. It’s not horrifying at all. Totally understandable.”
“Thanks.”
They slowly pulled apart, and she smiled. “You’re welcome. But do I have to let him in if he shows up over here?”
“Yeah, but he probably won’t. I was a real bitch.” Simone curled her mouth on one side, her insides crumbling to dust with the knowledge that what she said was true.
A week went by with no word from anyone. Then, early one morning, Lilian poked her head into the room where Simone was sleeping. “Simone?”
“Hmmmm?” She rolled over and sat up, still groggy.
“Someone is here to see you.”
Tristan! It hit her brain so fast, it nearly knocked her backward, and she sprang from the bed, still half-blind with sleep, stumbling for her clothes. “Coming!”
“I’ll have him wait in the living room.”
Softly, the door was closed, and Simone continued rushing around the room, the only thought in her mind how amazing it would feel to be back in his arms. Then, she caught herself and paused. He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness. Not yet. And he better have one hell of a good story. She slowed her pace, figuring he could also wait for as long as it took her to get ready.