Tackled by the Team

by Sierra Sparks

  “Mom, now is not the time for I told you so’s,” I tell her, frustrated.

  Now is the time to find my princess, I think to myself.

  My mom may have been right about Meredith. And I’m sure you would say I should learn my lesson by now. But I have a completely different feeling about the girl I was with last night. She’s genuine. The real thing. Something very rare these days in a world of fake glitter and glamour.

  There must be something preventing her from coming. Some reason she can’t. Because I know she had wanted to. I know she wouldn’t do this to me on purpose.

  She had mentioned having to get back to an important business matter. I wrack my brain, trying to think if she had said where.

  That’s it. She had mentioned an office on Pearl Street. I’m sure I can find it. I just have to hurry.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell my mom.

  “Where you going?” she screeches.

  I suddenly realize that I don’t even know who I’m looking for. I have no idea what her name is and I might not even recognize her. Sure, we had a great time last night and I’m foolishly thinking she might be the love of my life, but she was in costume. A black mask covered her face and cinder ashes were all over her skin, as was white face paint.

  Like a flash of genius the thought comes to me. I go and grab the shoes that she was so embarrassed about having me have to order.

  At least take the servants, my mom says. Oh please, I think. They’re completely useless.

  But then I realize I need them to drive. Denver doesn’t exactly have the best public transportation.

  “To Pearl Street,” I order Lionel, the driver. He looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “Sir, where on Pearl Street does your Royal Highness wish to go?” he asks me.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just going to go up and down Pearl Street knocking on doors until I find the person who fits these shoes.”

  “That’s crazy,” Deron says, not even bothering to follow up with the Royal Highness crap. But I can’t blame him because for once he’s right. My idea is ridiculous. But it’s the only one I’ve got.

  As we start out on our crazy adventure, I asked myself, why am I really doing this? Just to prove my mother wrong? Is it just to save face?

  Am I as bad as she is in that I cannot call off the wedding because I care what people think? But as we continue down the street I have to admit to myself the reason that I’m doing this is that I can’t live with myself if I don’t try to see this girl again. I have no idea what the future holds for us but I at least want to give us a chance to find out.

  So as soon as we get to Pearl Street I begin my approach to the first house. When an older lady opens the door I ask, “Hello, ma’am, do you have any daughters?” but she looks at me like I’m crazy and slams the door in my face.

  I can’t blame her. I’m acting pretty crazy and nobody can trust a random guy showing up on their doorstep anymore.

  But I’m determined and so I go to the next house and ask the same thing. Anyone willing to talk to me, I talk to and I ask if any eligible young women will try on the shoe.

  I’m not crazy enough to think that people won’t talk. A prince going up and down Pearl Street asking people to try on shoes is insane. I’m hoping it will help my cause. Maybe someone knows where the stranger from last night lives. Maybe somehow word will get to her.

  On the other hand, I bet there are plenty of opportunistic young women out there who will pretend to be the princess I’m looking for. I don’t want to be fooled so no matter who she says she is, I’m going to make sure she fits in the shoe.

  Part of me is asking, what if you never find her? But I try to focus on the part of me that is reassuring myself that I will find her. And this fancy glass slipper I had made especially for her odd sized foot will be the perfect fit only for her.

  Chapter 13 – Ella

  I’m trying to be an obedient step daughter, sweeping the dusty floor and keeping my head down as I do it. But I can’t help feeling completely brokenhearted.

  And I’m also wondering if somehow something magical will happen to save me from the destiny my step mother is robbing me of. Even if that destiny is just standing in as a fake princess and then losing my virginity to the Prince, it’s what I want, dammit.

  As I sweep I can hear my step sisters talking in the kitchen.

  “Did you hear the news?” Sheila asks Gloria. “I can’t believe it.”

  “No. What are you talking about?” Gloria asks. She’s never as much in the know as Sheila.

  “The prince’s bride has run off or something and so he’s trying to find her,” Sheila says. “Or maybe it’s that he’s looking for a new princess. No one really knows for sure.”

  I stand straight up, almost unable to believe my ears. Am I dreaming? He’s trying to find me?

  “They say he’s going house to house looking for her, on our very street,” Sheila says. “I bet you he will make his way here soon.”

  Suddenly I hear my step mother pop into their conversation like she always does, uninvited.

  “Girls, I think he’s looking for another girl,” she says. “Not his fiancée. And that’s exactly why I wanted to keep a close eye on Ella today.”

  She says it as if I’m not even here.

  “Ella?” Sheila says, and as I peer into the kitchen I can see her crinkling up her perfect if not slightly upturned nose. “What would he want with Ella?”

  “No one can answer that,” my mom says. “But I’ve heard rumblings. People talk. So, just in case I thought I’d keep a close eye on her.”

  “Good thinking, I guess,” says Gloria and shrugs.

  They move their conversation into the living room. I can’t hear what they’re saying anymore. But I’m infuriated. How dare my step mother not let me have my own life? I try everything I can to get along with her and she insists on mistreating me. And my step sisters, of course, are no better.

  I’m so sick of this. And even more so, I’m determined to fight for what I want. If the prince is looking for me, well, then I’m going to go look for him. But first I have to make sure my dad’s business is okay.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I cry out, although no one’s really paying any attention to me.

  My step mother is so lazy she can’t even do a good job at the one thing she said was her goal today— keeping an eye on me. I go into the bathroom and lock the door and take out my phone from my bra.

  I had emailed myself a copy of the document on my dad’s computer. I also have his estate attorney’s phone number. I’ve known Bill Spiegel for a long time, but only as Dad’s attorney. I don’t really expect an answer but I feel that I have to try. I can feel my heart quickening in my chest.

  To my surprise he picks up right away.

  “Ella,” he says, “I was expecting your call.”

  “You were?” I ask, confused.

  “Why yes your aunt Ashley called me,” he says. “She told me to be expecting your call and to be on standby.”

  Before I can say anything else he continues. “…so that I can explain to you that there appears to be some confusion or misunderstanding about your dad’s Will.”

  My heart races even faster.

  “Really?” I ask, trying not to be too loud.

  “Well she says you’re under the impression that you have to always run the business with you stepmother correct?”

  “Yes that’s what I thought but then I saw a document that says something different.”

  “Well the document you most recently saw is probably correct,” the attorney says. “As you know, I closely advised your dad for many years and I don’t mean to be mean but I had a feeling about the second wife of his. There are such people as…”

  He trails off so I decide to help him.

  “Money grabbing bitches?” I ask.

  “Well yes,” he says with a chuckle. “I wasn’t going to use those exact words. But I told him to structure it in
such a way so that his wishes might be honored when it comes to you guys trying to get along but that if that didn’t work out you would have some outs because I know how much he loved and cared about you.”

  “Thank you so much Mr. Spiegel,” I say practically jumping up and down. “So you have an actual executed copy of his will, right?”

  “I do,” he says. “I was meaning to contact you after he passed away but some people don’t want to be bothered with the details right away and I figured I’d let you come to me. He told me that you knew that I was the lawyer handling his estate so I figured you’d come talk to me when you were ready. So I was happy to receive your call.”

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  Now I’m kicking myself for not contacting him sooner. How could I be so blind and stupid? But at least I have time to fix it.

  “I’ll come meet with you on Monday to go over things,” I tell him. “But the way I understand, and I’m sorry to be in a rush but I just want to clarify something… is that if I can buy out my stepmother’s share of the business then it is mine to do with as I please, correct?”

  “It certainly is Ella.”

  “Yes!” I practically call out.

  “Is everything okay in there?” I hear my stepmother coming towards the door. “Gotta go,” I whisper to Mr. Spiegel.

  “The money grabber cometh?” he guesses correctly.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “She cometh for us all.”

  He laughs and says, “Take care Ella and see you on Monday,” and I thank him again before we hang up.

  “Almost done,” I say innocently to my stepmother. I make a big fake show out of flushing the toilet and fake washing my hands. By the time I get back to my spot with my broom, she’s doing a better job of keeping an eye on me. She is perched in the corner scowling at me.

  “Were you talking to someone in there?” she accuses me.

  “No one, it was just me and I was just singing a song to myself,” I tell her.

  “One of those stupid Broadway songs you like?” she guesses.

  “No, it was from a Disney movie,” I lie.

  You’d make a perfect wicked witch, I think to myself.

  Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. I had been planning to make a break for it as soon as I could but I hadn’t gotten the chance.

  I rush towards the door.

  “Oh no you don’t,” my stepmother stops me. Then she says, “Girls come help me.”

  To my bewilderment my stepsisters rush out and they push me into the broom closet. They must push a chair up or something up on the other side because I can’t get out.

  Oh my God these bitches are so bad they’re headed into kidnapping territory I think.

  They open the door and I hear gushing and fawning. It’s definitely the prince. My Prince. And then I hear his familiar low voice. Despite my compromising position squatting in the closet like an idiot, I feel myself getting wet for him. I can’t help it. He just has the most amazing effect on me.

  “Hello there, hello there,” says my stepmother. “Come right on in. I hear you’re looking for a princess.”

  I can hear him say, “I’m looking for my Princess, yes.”

  I’m right here in the closet, I want to say, but I don’t want to mess things up yet. The timing has to be just right.

  Just like it was yesterday when I completely ran into him. This is my Prince charming and I’m going to get him as soon as I can.

  Chapter 14 – Gregory

  The next house I carry my Princess’s shoes to is quaint and unassuming. It has brick and siding and blue awnings. I knock on the door still thinking about how ridiculous I fucking look, carrying two mismatched size shoes around with me everywhere. To perfect strangers’ houses.

  The woman who opens the door to this house looks positively thrilled to see me.

  “Come in, come in, hello there, hello there,” she crackles. There are two young women behind her smiling and saying “Oh so good to see you,” “hello, come in.”

  Word has definitely gotten out. Everybody wants to be my new princess. But these ladies seem particularly overeager in a way that’s off putting. I almost just turn around and leave. The girls are cute enough but not as cute as they think they are. Plus, they have boring personalities to match her flat asses.

  I know that neither of them is my princess. But something makes me pause. “Is there anyone else who lives here?” I ask. “Or anyone else here at all right now?”

  “Nope, no one,” they all say, shaking their heads, but they look suspicious. I peer around but I don’t see anything. I need a reason to continue being in this house.

  “I’m looking for a certain someone who fits these shoes,” I say, kneeling down and holding them up. “Would it perchance be you?”

  I look at one of them— the brunette one— and give her my best flirty smile. She practically melts, I can tell. I bet she wants me so bad. But there’s only one woman that I want and I’m not stopping until I fake marry her.

  “Oh let me try it on and see,” she says, moving over to a chair in the corner. She sits down and I put the shoe on her left foot and it actually kind of fits. It’s a little snug but she wiggles around in it acting as if it fits her perfectly. But I know the next shoe will be the test.

  “Okay and what about this one?” I say, holding up the odd size shoe.

  “Of course,” she says and tries to put her foot into it. No, her foot is way too big.

  “It fits just fine,” she says hobbling around the living room looking ridiculous.

  She looks down and seems to realize this.

  “I think it does, don’t you mother?” she insists, continuing the charade.

  “I do,” her mother says. Of course.

  “I don’t really think it does,” says the other one.

  “I have to agree with you,” I say. “Should we see if they fit you?”

  “Oh yes,” says the second one, sitting down where the first one had just been and holding out her foot for me. I take it gingerly because I don’t really want to touch it and I put the first shoe on her foot. It’s actually a little big on her and she stretches her toes to try to act like it fits better.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her but then for shits and giggles I decide to see how she pretends to fit the other one.

  “Here you go try this one.”

  I put the other one on her and it’s also too big. She nearly falls and breaks her ankle as she stands up.

  “I can do this; it’s just fine,” she says.

  She slides as the shoes around her as she drags her feet across the floor to make sure they don’t fall off.

  “I think that one definitely fits,” the mother says but the other sister starts bursting out laughing.

  “Oh mommy don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “They don’t fit her at all. They fit me better. I’m the one you’re looking for,” she tells me. “Let’s go get married.”

  Geez, women in America are fucking forward. Or maybe it’s just these women. They seem to have a screw or two loose.

  All of a sudden I hear a ruffling and a crash from what looks to be a pantry or broom closet to the left of the chair.

  “What’s that?” I ask them all.

  “Nothing,” says the mother.

  She comes over and puts her hand on my back, which is not a welcome gesture. I move away.

  “Well, are you going to marry one of my daughters or should you be getting out of my house now?” the stepmother demands.

  “No need to rush him,” says the one whose feet were too big for the shoes, sashaying up beside me barefoot, and batting her eyelashes at me. “You can really have me if you want.”

  She shakes her boobs in my direction as if that’s going to convince me.

  “I’d like to see what’s going on in that closet in there,” I say, ignoring her. “I thought you said nobody else was here.”

  “We did say that. She’s just our cat,” the mother says.

  I hear b
anging and a muffled sound, as if someone is saying, “It’s me.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a cat,” I say, walking towards the closet door. “Unless you have a magical cat who can talk.”

  I take another look at them and realize that might be entirely possible with these crazy people.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave or I will call the police,” the mother says.

  I hear the sound of breaking wood and the door opens just a crack. A small but strong voice shouts, “I’ll try on the shoes.”

  “Fuck,” says the older lady under her breath and I gasp, surprised at her foul language. It takes a lot to surprise me when it comes to foul language but she manages to do it. I wasn’t expecting it out of someone her age.

  “Hello,” I say and pull open the door.

  Here is my Gothic Cinderella. I’m sure of it.

  But she takes the slippers from my hand which I had retrieved from the one with the feet that were too small for them, and she places them on her feet perfectly.

  “Look,” she says with a laugh. “I told you my shoes are two different sizes. How embarrassing.”

  “There’s nothing embarrassing about it,” I tell her, grabbing her to me and kissing her. We kiss for as long as we can before the mean lady who had her trapped in the closet comes up and practically pulls us apart.

  “I knew you had deceived me,” the woman says. “I knew you went to the Ball last night and someone helped you pull it off. Probably your father’s awful sister.”

  “You leave dad out of this,” my Gothic Princess says. “And Aunt Ashley too. I don’t have to worry about you anymore. Or at least I won’t, very soon.”

  “What does that mean?” the old lady says and I can tell she’s very upset by this. I can also tell that my princess is not used to standing up to her but she is right now for me or maybe for her father or both of us. Either way I’m proud of her

  “Nothing,” she says. “I have a royal marriage to attend. My own.”

  She smiles at me and I take her hand.

  “If you leave then say goodbye to the business,” the lady says, making a grab for her as I try to pull her out the door. Something falls to the floor with a clink and my princess looks down and gasps.