Her Own Fairy Godmother

by Marie Higgins

  She extended her neck, releasing the kinks, and then turned back to her computer to get some work done. Through the screen, a shadow appeared behind her. Seconds later, Amanda’s voice made her jump.

  “I have it all planned out.”

  Cyndi swiveled in her chair and faced her co-worker. “What do you have planned?”

  “How I’m going to hook you and Max up at the office party.”

  A nervous fluttering grew in Cyndi’s stomach, and her hands moistened. “Oh, really?”

  Amanda’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Do you want to hear about it?”

  Several months ago, her co-worker had helped with another soon-to-be boyfriend, and although the results were disastrous, it was fun while it lasted. “Sure. This ought to be good for a laugh or two.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “You’ll be thanking me when it’s over. I promise.”

  The more Cyndi listened, the faster the rhythm of her heart became. Amanda was serious. Cyndi was going to speak to Max, and there would be no excuses this time.

  Six

  The party is tonight!

  Cyndi wrung her hands against her stomach. How could she concentrate at work knowing she would have to talk to Max, and possibly ask him out tonight?

  Amanda had given her hope for an enjoyable evening as Cyndi became better acquainted with Max. Her friend even mentioned she had a plan to ruin his date for the party. Apparently, Amanda knew Max’s date and could sabotage his evening. The confident Amanda actually had Cyndi believing it’d happen. This might be her night after all.

  Cyndi’s stomach twisted, and she turned back to her computer. She was supposed to be taking notes on an upcoming news segment, so she should get to it. She’d finish up this project and then go home and get ready for the office Christmas party. Within hours she’d be in a pretty dress and meeting the date-less Max, offering her services as his companion for the evening.

  Another wave of nerves rolled through her stomach. Groaning, she rubbed her belly. No, she couldn’t think of that. She had to finish this project, which was really almost done anyway. She’d wait until after she was dressed and at the party before she started worrying.

  Good luck with that one!

  Trying to put aside her anxiety, she finished typing what was needed for the segment. When she typed the last words, she sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. Finally, she could relax, if only for a second, because she knew her nerves would kick in soon and she’d feel like she was going to throw up again.

  One more hour of work before quitting time. Things were certainly going her way today. Well, so far, anyway.

  “Cynthia!”

  Cyndi snapped to an upright position in her chair and looked toward Fran’s office. The boss stood in her doorway, aiming her glare at Cyndi.

  “Yes?” she asked as sweetly as she could.

  “In my office. Now!”

  Inwardly, Cyndi groaned. What had she done this time?

  She pushed away from her desk and made her way swiftly to Fran’s office and stepped inside. Fran now sat at her desk, looking over two stacks of papers. The woman’s thick, black hair showed no signs of graying. Then again, the woman probably made enough money to have it professionally colored. Even her face held very little wrinkles. Her skin was too tight for a woman in her mid-fifties. Can you say Botox? Maybe Fran used too much of it and that was why she never smiled.

  “I have something important for you to do,” she began without meeting Cyndi’s stare. “I want to have a special segment in tomorrow’s evening news about the upcoming campaign.” She patted one of the smaller stacks. “This pile is information regarding the candidates. However, I was informed earlier today that Donald Cruz is hiding something.” She finally lifted her expressionless eyes to her. “I need you to make some phone calls tonight, and I don’t want you to go home until it’s done.”

  The news sucked the breath out of her and her chest constricted. Yet at the same time, anger threatened to make a debut. “But...tonight is the Christmas party for the daytime news crew.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “What if I don’t get this done before the party?” she asked in a tight voice.

  Fran arched an eyebrow. Cyndi was so tired of seeing this expression on her.

  “Then it looks like you’ll be working here instead of attending the party,” Fran said in her normal condescending way.

  Cyndi fisted her hands in back of her. “But that’s not fair. Why are you making me work? Is anyone else on the morning team working tonight?”

  “No.”

  Slowly, she took another breath, hoping to calm her ire before she voiced her frustration. “Then why are you making me?”

  Fran gave her a smirk as she laced her manicured nails together and rested her linked hands on the desk. “Because you are the only one who doesn’t have a date tonight, so it makes sense to give this assignment to you.”

  There was always a reason with Fran. One of these days Cyndi was going to... No, she couldn’t act on her irritation. She needed this job. She loved her job, just as long as Fran and the evil sisters didn’t bother her. “Forgive me for saying this, but not having a date shouldn’t keep me from attending a Christmas party. After all, bringing a date was not a requirement to attend, if I remember correctly.”

  Fran shrugged her boney shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. I still need this information ASAP, which means if you don’t have it done before the Christmas party, then you cannot attend.” She lifted the stack of papers and handed them to Cyndi, ending their conversation.

  Gritting her teeth from spouting out her thoughts, she snatched the papers from Fran and turned, but before she could leave the room, Drizella met her in the doorway.

  “Oh, there you are,” the evil daughter of the boss snickered.

  “What do you need, dearest?” Fran asked, the tone of her voice practically dripped with honey.

  “I need Cyndi to do something for me.” She sighed dramatically and shook her head. “I need to leave work early to get ready for the party tonight, and I just don’t have time to schedule some appointments. I was hoping Cyndi could do that for me.”

  Cyndi tightened her hold on the stack of papers before she used Drizella’s face as a punching bag. And to think Cyndi has never been a violent person before. “I’m sorry, Drizella, but your mother just gave me a project to do. I won’t have time—”

  “Cynthia!” Fran screeched. “You will add that to your list of things to have accomplished before you leave work tonight.”

  Tears burned behind Cyndi’s eyes and she fought to keep them from showing. Although she wanted to argue, she didn’t dare push her luck. “Fine.” She cleared her throat, hoping not to sound like she wanted to cry. “Email me that list and I’ll get them scheduled for you.”

  Presenting a victorious grin, Drizella swung away and made her way back through the large room toward her desk.

  Cyndi forced her legs to move as she walked to her desk. The closer she got, the more her eyes burned with unshed tears. The minute her bottom hit the chair, Anastasia moved in front of Cyndi’s desk and stood.

  “My mom wanted me to tell you that she wants you to clean off my desk before you go home. The janitors don’t do a very good job.” She shrugged. “And since you’re going to be here tonight, Mom thought you could do it.”

  Cyndi couldn’t speak for fear of crying, so she nodded instead. Once Ana waddled away, Cyndi turned her back on everyone and stared at her cubicle wall. As hard as she tried, a tear slip through and fell down her cheek. She quickly wiped it, and hoped others wouldn’t follow.

  The phone on her desk rang, but she didn’t answer it. She couldn’t. Her strained throat wouldn’t let her. After the phone stopped ringing, she drew in a deep breath and turned toward the stack of papers on her desk. With a shaky hand, she glanced over the first page. Soon tears blocked her vision, and she blinked to dry the liquid. She couldn’t let Fran see how upset she was and especially how
much she hurt. And if the evil sisters saw, they would only rub it in to Cyndi’s already fresh wound...and add vinegar and salt to the injury.

  When her cell started buzzing on her desk, she glanced at the display window to read the caller ID. Damien Giovanni. Her heart leapt, but her throat tightened with emotion. Although she knew she shouldn’t answer it—because she’d cry—her hand automatically picked it up as she swiped her finger across the screen.

  “Hullo,” she said softly.

  “Hi, it’s me. When are you going to be home? I have a surprise for you for the party.”

  A few more tears leaked from the dam she tried to build in her eyes. “I’m not. I have to work.” Her voice broke.

  “Cyndi...what’s wrong?”

  The concern laced in his voice was her undoing, and her tears fell freely. She quickly turned her back toward the office again so nobody could see her cry. “I was given an assignment,” she said brokenly before clearing her throat. “I can’t leave until it’s done. I won’t be going to the party tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me?” His voice raised in anger.

  “I wish I was, but my boss doesn’t like me very well.”

  “That’s no reason to make you stay at work.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s no use in trying to reason with her. She’ll always win.”

  “What is she making you do?” he asked, sorrowfully.

  As she explained to him about the candidates, tears filled her eyes faster and her nose became stuffy. She snatched a Kleenex and tried to wipe her eyes as she finished telling him.

  He growled on the other end of the phone. “Do you know what I’d like to do to your stupid boss right now?”

  She hiccupped a laugh. “Probably the same thing I want to do to her.”

  “She’s not being fair.”

  “She never has been.” She wiped her nose.

  There was a small pause before Damien said, “So all she wants to get is dirt on Donald Cruz, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  A low chuckle came through the phone, growing louder by the second. “Well, mí amore, it’s who you know in this life that will help you make it through, and you just happened to be friends with someone who knows a lot about the mayor candidate, Donald Cruz. Don’t stress and give me fifteen minutes. I’m sure I can get you the information you need.”

  Hope sprang inside her and caused more tears to come. She didn’t dare believe him. Could this incredible man save her hide once again? “Really?” she whispered.

  “Yes. I’ll call you back in fifteen.”

  “Oh, Damien, you just don’t know how much this means—”

  “Save your thanks for when I see you next.” He chuckled. “But let me get on it so that we can get you home from work quickly.”

  “All right. Bye.” She quickly hung up, feeling excited once more.

  After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she turned to her computer and to her email. Drizella had already sent her the names of people who need to be scheduled. Cyndi got on it immediately, and even noticed the lift of excitement in her voice when she called. Remarkably, she had ten people scheduled within ten minutes.

  She glanced at the time, and her smile stretched. She’d give Damien ten more minutes and if she hadn’t heard from him, she’d call him. But during that time, she would go clean Anastasia’s desk. Thankfully, most everyone had left work by now, so Cyndi was able to hurry through her chores. With each minute she cleaned, she grumbled louder. How could one person be so messy? Food was everywhere! And how long had this sandwich been here? Seriously? The crust was showing mildew already. She shivered and quickly threw it in the trash. She’d disinfect her hands later.

  Just as she was finishing, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She jumped and scrambled to get it—even though she still had sticky hands. Glancing at the caller ID, she saw it was Damien. Her heartbeat sped. “Hello?”

  “How much do you love me, mí amore?”

  Her heartbeat kicked up another notch. Love? Why would he say that? And yet, why had her breathing turned ragged? “Damien, quit teasing me. You know you are the best.” What else could she say? She couldn’t tell him she loved him and give him the wrong idea.

  “Yes, I know. But, the reason I ask is because I’m quite proud of myself. I found the information you want.”

  Tears stung her eyes again, but this time from happiness. “Are you serious? Oh, Damien, you really are the greatest friend. Thank you so much.”

  “I’ll fax it to you. What’s your fax number?”

  She quickly told him the number.

  “Okay, I’m sending it now. I’ll see you when I get home from work tonight.”

  “Thank you again.” Her voice broke, but this time she didn’t care if anyone saw her crying. How could she repay him for all the kindness and help he’d been giving her? He was truly turning into the best friend she’d ever had.

  I’M GOING TO PUKE!

  Cyndi stared at her pasty face in the mirror and frowned. Her nervous stomach wasn’t cut out for catching a man—a hunk of a man for that matter. This time she could not mess things up. That’s what worried her. With her track record, she knew it was almost impossible.

  She pinched her cheeks until a raspberry color appeared in stark contrast and made her look like she had a fever. Maybe she did. She placed a hand on her forehead. No. Her skin felt normal. If she wasn’t sick, then why did her body tremble?

  Taking careful steady steps so as not to disturb her stomach, she made her way back into her bedroom and lowered herself face down on the bed. No way could she go to the company party tonight. Perhaps Fran had been right to discourage her from coming tonight.

  And yet, Amanda expected her to show up. But Cyndi just couldn’t. What if she passed out? She’d look like a fool. It’d be high school all over again. Maybe the queasiness had nothing to do with her tense nerves. What if something was seriously wrong with her?

  Yeah, like I have the chicken-out disease.

  Not only that, but the tightness in her head convinced her a sinus cold would be hitting her soon. It was usually about this time of year when she got a cold, and thanks to the stress she’d been in lately—not to mention the extra amount Fran and her idiot daughters put on Cyndi—there was no doubt she’d be getting sick soon. She couldn’t go to the party if she was catching a bug and get everyone else sick. She’d never hear the end of it from Fran if that happened.

  She frowned. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as sick as she tried to believe, but talking to Max frightened her to death. That man was way out of her league. She’d faint if he turned his beautiful blue eyes on her. She couldn’t lose consciousness at a company party. As shy as she was, there’d be no way she’d be able to show up for work after that. Plain and simple, she just wouldn’t go to the party.

  Could she give up so soon? She’d definitely be the joke of the office. Her whole purpose for trying the article’s steps to winning a man like Max was to see if she could keep him longer than three months. Hadn’t she wanted him since high school? Wasn’t it about time that Cyndi went after what she wanted—and actually got it?

  She stared at the ceiling and the churning in her stomach slowly settled. She took deep breaths through her mouth to ease the rolling tension. As her eyelids grew heavy, she closed them, but a knock sounded at the door and yanked her back to awareness. Her heart beat to life, turning her stomach again.

  Who could that be? Amanda wouldn’t come to her townhouse to pick her up.

  “Cyndi? Are you there?”

  Damien. How had she forgotten that he was coming?

  She rolled her weak body off the bed and carefully walked to the front door, her hands splaying over her stomach, hoping to keep it from upsetting again. With shaky fingers, she released the latch and unlocked the door. “Hi.”

  His eyes widened as his gaze slid from the top of her head to her bare feet. “What’s wrong with you? Aren’t you going to the party tonight?”
>
  She groaned and stepped away from the door, weaving her way back to the front room and the couch. She plopped down and sighed. “Not feeling like this.”

  He walked inside and shut the door. “Have you caught something?”

  “Yes.”

  He stopped. “Is it contagious?”

  “Sure, if you’re a chicken.”

  His dark eyebrows rose. “I don’t understand.”

  He came closer until his knees bumped the edge of the couch. She peeked at him from beneath half-closed lids. Once again, he looked as if he’d walked straight from the new clothes rack from a model store. Today he wore sharp-creased gray trousers and a cream-colored shirt that hung looser on him than most of his shirts, and on his wide shoulders fit a gray suit jacket. Three buttons on his shirt were left undone, and she caught a glimpse of his muscled neck. Tucked under one of his arms was a medium sized box.

  She covered her eyes, hoping to ignore his image, but memories from all the things he’d done to help her floated through her mind. He’d been so sweet. So caring. So willing to help. Just thinking about how he went out of his way made her heart warm.

  His hand touched her forehead, and she jumped.

  “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” he told her.

  “I think I’m catching a head-cold.”

  He set the box on the coffee table before leaving her side and hurrying out of her house without closing the front door. Slowly, she watched the door between her parted fingers. Minutes later he returned holding a glass of water and two pills.

  “Take this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a decongestant. It’ll clear your head really fast.”

  Cautiously, she grabbed the pills and water from him and swallowed the pills quickly.

  He took the empty glass from her. “Great, now let’s get you ready for your party.”

  She groaned and shook her head, covering her hands over her eyes again. “You don’t understand, Damien. The reason I’m sick is because I’m scared of going tonight and making a fool out of myself.”