There are a couple of men taking leaks in the bathroom, none of whom I recognize. I find an empty stall and sit down on the toilet seat. I don’t really need to take a dump. I just need a quiet place where no one will fawn all over me. I mean, it’s nice to feel the love, but it can get to be too much. And besides, there’s only one person I want to talk to. I pull out my phone from my trouser pocket and text Zoey.
Are u watching?
I hit send and wait impatiently for a reply. Finally.
Yes. I saw u on the red carpet.
:) Are u alone?
For some reason, I’m sorry I asked that question after I hit send. My pulse accelerates waiting for her reply.
No.
My stomach twists.
Who are u with?
It’d better be a girlfriend. Or her mother.
Someone really cute.
My blood runs cold. It’s her fucking boyfriend.
We’re cuddling in bed.
My blood sizzles.
WHO?
Teddy.
Jesus. A new boyfriend?
Teddy who?
Bear. LOL! We’re sharing a quart of Häagen-Dazs.
Relieved, I smile.
What flavor?
Coffee chip.
My fave. :)
I know. I stole it from your freezer.
I laugh.
U better replace it.
I will.
What do u think of the show?
Boooring! But Tina and Amy are funny.
Agree. What’s going on now?
They’re giving the Best Actress in a TV Drama award.
Who won?
Julianna Margulies for The Good Wife.
Oh.
BTW, where are u?
Men’s room.
Taking a dump?
No. Just texting u.
No shit! LOL!
:-D
Shit!
What’s wrong?
They’re about to announce the Best Actor in a Television Series…Drama!!!! They mentioned ur name!
Fuck!
I leap up from the toilet seat and dash out of the bathroom.
Jet-propelling myself back to the ballroom, I dig my hand into my breast pocket to retrieve my acceptance speech should I win. Except it isn’t there. I fucking forgot it!
My heart beats into a frenzy as I speed dial Zoey. Panicked, I shout into the phone. “Email me my speech!”
Silence.
“Zoey, what’s going on?”
“Hmm…can’t find it.”
“What?”
“It must not have saved. Just wing it.”
“Balls!”
“Oh my God! You just won. They’re looking for you! Hurry!”
“I’m almost there!” I end the call and slip the phone back into the pocket.
My heart is practically beating out of my chest as I race into the ballroom and sprint up to the stage. Applause and cheers boom in my ears. I can’t believe it. I won the Golden Globe!
Breathless, I accept the award from my presenter, Kevin Spacey. All eyes are on me. I take a deep, calming breath, but my heart’s still beating a hundred miles a minute. Clutching my award, I manage to get my brain to communicate with my mouth.
“WOW! This is amazing and so unexpected. Thank you members of the Hollywood Foreign Press. Um…uh, I also want to thank Conquest Broadcasting and Blake Burns for believing in Kurt Kussler…my incredible producer, Doug DeMille and his stellar production team…my talented, wonderful co-stars, Kellie Fox and Jewel Starr…my outstanding fellow nominees…my dear parents, Phyllis and Edward, and my mentor, Bella Stadler…and last but not least, I want to thank my beautiful assistant, Zoey Hart, for all you do for me. Love you!”
I triumphantly hold up the award and soak in the audience. Holy shit! A standing ovation! Everyone is applauding and cheering wildly except one person. Katrina. She’s in her seat, seething.
What the hell?
Zoey
Jumping up and down on my bed, I’m literally doing a happy dance. I don’t even care if I break a spring and the mattress crashes to the floor. I can’t believe it! Brandon just won the Golden Globe and thanked me on national television! In front of a gazillion people! Called me beautiful! And then said, “Love you.”
My cell phone rings. The strings of my heart go zing. It must be him. I hop off the bed and make a beeline for my phone. A tinge of disappointment. It’s Jeffrey. We’re on FaceTime.
“Girl, that was so exciting!”
“You’re watching the awards?” My TV’s still on, but I’m not paying attention.
“Of course. You’re practically a household name. You’re already trending on Twitter.”
I laugh and then laugh harder when he tells me about Katrina.
“Did you see the expression on Katrina’s face when Brandon thanked you?”
I tell him I missed that.
“Don’t worry. I recorded everything. There was a camera on her. Everyone in the audience stood up and gave Brandon a standing ovation except her. She was fuming. I thought she was going to throw a plate at the lens.”
My laughter dies down, but a question burns on my tongue. “Jeffrey, I have to ask you something.” I can tell him anything. And you can always count on a gay guy to tell it like it is. Brutal honesty.
“Shoot, Zoester.”
“You know, when he said ‘love you’? What do you think he meant by that?”
“Honey, this man’s going to sweep you off your feet.”
The breath in my throat hitches. In the corner of my eye, I glimpse the Kurt Kussler poster I shattered in a fit of madness. It’s leaning against a wall. I still haven’t fixed it, and now I regret my actions. Before I can get down on myself, Jeffrey’s boyfriend Chaz gets on FaceTime and makes me laugh again. He berates Katrina’s red carpet performance.
“Oh my friggin’ God! I wanted to barf. That bitch was in everyone’s face. I wanted to slap her! And can you believe that dress? It was so vomiticious! Oh and when Brandon blew you a kiss, she practically blew a fuse.”
I’m laughing my head off. I so love Jeffrey and Chaz. They’re my equivalent of Cinderella’s chattering, adorable, supportive mice. We watch the rest of the Golden Globes together, and we all squeal when Kurt Kussler wins for “Best Drama Series” near the very end. The cast and crew rush to the stage and swarm a blown-away Brandon. Executive Producer Doug DeMille speaks for them all. What a night for the show! What a night for Brandon! What a night for me! I only wish I could be there with Brandon to celebrate.
After Tina and Amy congratulate all the winners and thank everyone for watching, I bid Jeffrey and Chaz goodnight. In no time, I’m hugging Teddy, dreaming of my Prince Charming.
The subconscious is a strange place. When I doze off, all of tonight’s events come together in a fantastical dream that plays out in my head like a surreal fairy tale.
It’s the night of the most anticipated event in Lalaland. The Golden Globe Ball. Everyone who’s anyone will be there. A glittering gathering of Hollywood royalty. It’s being given by Prince Brandon, the most eligible and handsome bachelor in the land. Rumor has it he’s seeking the woman of his dreams—his princess bride. He’s my idol. My sigh master. The love of my life. I long to attend, but my chances are nil.
“I’d like to go too,” I plead to my evil stepmother, Enid, already dressed to the nines and hopeful that my stepsister will be the one to marry Prince Brandon.
She rolls her eyes. “Puh-lease. Peasants don’t attend balls.”
Her equally evil and done up daughter Katrina snorts with wicked laughter. “Mommy, she probably couldn’t even find a ball gown to fit her.”
Their words sting me like a hornet. She’s right. I can’t even fit into my beloved late mama’s beautiful vintage dresses. In her haughty voice, Katrina demands that I zip up her coral ball gown. Reluctantly, I do as bid when what I really want to do is rip the dress off her back.
Not even a thank you.
“Now, Zoella, while we’re gone, I want you to mop the floor and polish the furniture,” pouts Enid as she heads toward the front door, arm in arm with her stunning daughter.
I sigh silently. I’m more of servant than a stepdaughter. I’m thanklessly worked to the bone. Expected to tend to their every whim and need. Dear Papa had no clue when he married Enid and left her his two cents.
Their imposing black limo awaits them outside, leaving me behind with Katrina’s sweet little white mutt, Gucci. Weighted with gloom, I sink into the couch. Life’s so not fair. The fluffy pup dances around my feet, licking my ankles in an attempt to cheer me up. With tears in my eyes, I gather him up in my lap.
“Oh, Gooch, it’s futile. They’re right. I’m just a no one.” My tears give way to uncontrollable sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut while my body heaves. I don’t know how long I’ve been crying when Gucci barks madly, hurtling me out of my misery. My eyes blink open and my jaw drops to the floor. Standing before me are two boyishly handsome men dressed alike in flamboyant sequined jumpsuits. Each holds a sparkling wand.
“Who are you?” I gasp.
“We’re your fairy godmothers,” says the slightly taller of the two. “I’m Jeffrey and this is my life partner, Chaz.”
“Wow! I have two fairy godmothers?”
“Double the pleasure. Double the fun,” they reply in unison.
“Now, darling, dry your tears,” says Chaz. “It’s bad for your complexion.”
“And you can’t go to the ball with red eyes,” chimes in Jeffrey.
My eyes grow wide. “I’m going to the ball?”
“That’s the goal here.” Chaz surveys me.
I look down at my sweats and then back at Chaz. “But I have nothing to wear.”
“No worries. I’m a fashion designer by day, a fairy godmother by night.”
Jeffrey glances at his Mickey Mouse watch. “Oh dear, we’re going to have to work fast. Are you ready?”
With a nod, I squeal out an eager “yes.”
“Chaz, do you remember the incantation?” Jeffrey asks his partner.
“Abracadabra?”
Jeffrey rolls his eyes dismissively “No, honey, that’s so last year. It’s bippity-boppity-boo.”
Chaz blushes. “Right.”
I stand as still as a statue while the twosome recite the magic words and wave their glittery wands. On my next breath, I find myself shrouded in a cloud of sparkling fairy dust. And when the dust settles, I’m dressed in the most beautiful ball gown I’ve ever set eyes on. A sexy tulle and lace pouf in a color that’s reminiscent of Prince Brandon’s famous violet eyes. I gasp. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful!” Tears of joy spring to my eyes.
Proud of their handiwork, my two fairy godmothers give me the once over.
“We need to accessorize,” comments Jeffrey.
“Totally.” Reciting another incantation, Chaz waves his magic wand. With a whoosh, he transforms my worn slippers into shimmering glass stilettos and my tears into a breathtaking pair of diamond teardrop earrings.
“Come look at yourself, honey,” says Jeffrey. Taking me by the hand, he leads me to a floor-to-ceiling gold-leaf mirror. I gasp at my reflection. I hardly recognize myself. My hair is done up in a crown of dark curls, and I’m wearing a stunning spaghetti-strap dress that hugs all my curves and compliments my cleavage. I look like a princess! And then my heart sinks.
“Fairy Godmothers, how am I going to get to the ball?” The thought of driving my little Mini-Cooper in this voluminous gown doesn’t sit well. Plus, I’m so anxious I’ll probably get into an accident. Or pee.
“No worries. Where’s your car?” asks Jeffrey. “I’m an event planner by day. I’m a whiz at these things.”
I tell him it’s in the driveway, and on my next inhale, the duo escorts me outside. Wagging his tail, Gooch trails behind us. Jeffrey waves his magic wand over the miniscule white car, and before my stunned eyes, it magically transforms into a majestic Rolls Royce. It’s fit for Hollywood royalty.
“Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath. “It’s outrageous, but there’s no way I can drive that to the ball. I’ll crash it for sure.”
“No worries.” Grinning, Jeffrey recites another incantation over panting Gooch, shrouding him in a pouf of fairy dust. My eyes grow wide again as the little dog magically transforms into an adorable shaggy, white-haired livery.
“Meet your new driver.” Jeffrey beams.
“Shall we, Madame?” says Gooch, gallantly opening the passenger door for me with a sweep of his arm.
Pinch me. This can’t be real. I slip into the car as gracefully as I can while Gooch gets into the driver’s seat.
“Get ready to par-tay,” chants Chaz.
“Enjoy the ball,” chimes in Jeffrey. “But there’s one caveat. At the last stroke of midnight, our spell will be broken. The Rolls will turn back into a Mini, the driver back into a mutt, and you back to a simple servant girl.”
A shiver skitters up my spine, but I’m still grateful for the incredible opportunity they’ve given me. “Fairy Godmothers! How can I ever thank you?”
“Give us hugs and be off. Have fun!” replies Jeffrey with a smile.
“Oh, and give the Prince a kiss from us,” adds in Chaz.
In twenty short magical minutes, we pull up to the entrance of the Prince’s majestic palace. It looks just like the castle at Disneyland. The valets take the car and escort me to the ballroom. For the third time tonight, my eyes grow as wide as spinning saucers. It’s a veritable spectacle filled with the glitterati of Hollywood. All eyes are on me, but my eyes are on only one person. Heart-stoppingly beautiful Prince Brandon. Our eyes connect instantly. He meets me halfway on my walk down the red carpet until we’re a mere breath apart. His violet eyes sparkle while a dazzling smile curls on his lips.
My heart flutters, my body trembles, and my legs go weak.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes against my neck. “What is your name?”
“Zoella. But you can call me Zoey.” I’m tingling all over. Every fiber of my being is sparkling like fairy dust. For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful.
“Zoey, may I please have this dance,” he asks me. It’s more of a command than a question.
Before I can respond, a perturbed Katrina clamors up to us. “Brandon, you promised you’d dance with me!” She shoots me a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here look.
Prince Brandon shoves her away. She lands hard on her bony ass at the feet of her nearby mother and shrieks.
“Mommy, do something!”
Her shrieks fade in the distance as Brandon sweeps me into his arms and waltzes me away.
I’m his. Melting into him, I lose sight of everyone around me. My body follows his as if we’re sewn together. As if we’ve danced this way forever. He draws me in closer to him. His hard body brushes against my chest and his hard length against my center. My heartbeat accelerates and wetness beads between my legs.
“C’mon, let’s blow this pop stand,” he whispers in my ear and then whisks me away.
A few breaths later, we’re in his royal highness’s private chamber. Lit by candlelight, the cavernous room is dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in violet satin and fit for a king. A tall grandfather clock sits in the corner. I can’t make out the time. I’m too distracted. Too caught up in the moment.
Bathed in the glow of the amber light, Brandon holds me tightly in his arms. His soft lips kiss my neck, shoulders, arms, and face, touching every ounce of flesh they can latch onto.
“Oh, Zoey,” he breathes against my neck. “From the minute I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.”
My heart beating a mile a minute, my skin heating with fever, I lift my head and meet his smoldering gaze. Those violet eyes that dance with a glint of lust and love.
“Oh, Brandon. I’ve dreamt about you forever.”
Before I can say another word, his luscious mouth captures mine and he continues our erotic dance wit
h his warm waltzing tongue. Each sensuous sweep takes me further to the edge until we’re entwined on a precipice. Fisting his silky hair, I deepen the kiss. I can’t get enough of him.
Without losing contact with my mouth, he tugs at the back zipper of my gown, and glides the dress down my body until it puddles at my feet. To my shock, I’m totally bare and wonder if my fairy godmothers deliberately left out underwear. Pulling away from me, Brandon beholds me. I feel terribly naked and ashamed under his gaze, but his sincere words ease my discomfort.
“Zoey, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined. A vision of womanly perfection.”
While I tremble with rapture, his mouth repossesses mine with a fierce kiss and his hands coast from my ass to my tits, lingering on all my curves. Moaning into my mouth, he gropes my bare breasts. His thumbs rub my sensitive nipples and send a tingly rush of wetness to my sex. My hands move back to his head, but this time I cradle his gorgeous face between my fingers. Capturing one of my wrists, he places a hand between his thighs. His hot rigid length sears my palm. He’s as aroused as I am. I feel the fiery desire that’s consuming us both.
“Oh, Zoey, you make me feel so good,” he breathes into my mouth, breaking the delicious kiss. His lips return to mine yet again before he rips off his clothes in a fit of passion. My fingernails dig deep into his heated flesh as he scoops me into his arms and lays me down on his regal bed. The sea of satin sheets feels cool against my flaming skin.
He climbs onto the bed. Every inch of his virile magnificence makes my skin prickle. I’ve never set eyes on a man as beautiful as he is. And have never wanted anyone more. Straddling me, his muscled legs pressed against my hips, he trails hot kisses from the ticklish crook of my neck, all over my breasts, and then past my abdomen until his head is buried between my thighs. After an inhale, he kisses my delicate folds with urgency and reverence.
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