Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  By the time I finished making all the rounds, it was late afternoon. There was an accident on the path I usually took to get home, so I found myself rerouted. Within a few minutes, the neighborhood began to look familiar, and I realized I was in the same part of town where I'd been the day I'd seen Oli, the magician.

  My taste buds began to water, remembering the smells of the vendors. I'd been craving another one of those gyros. Why not? I decided. Finally finding a parking place on a side street, I followed my nose until I found the line of carts and the men and women peddling food. I automatically made my way to the same square as last time, my eyes searching for another crowd. Nothing but a few runners and shoppers.

  A lump of disappointment went down with my food. I realized I'd managed to fool myself. Yes, I wanted to retry the sandwich. But I was also looking to recreate the experience; to interact with the one person who'd intrigued me more than others had in a long time. The same man who'd made me forget my troubles for a few minutes.

  That's all it was. Just a distraction.

  Right. I could tell myself that until pigs flew, but not so deep down, I still remembered the attraction I'd felt. It wasn't anything "forbidden," but he was so different from other men I'd known. He didn't appear refined or a professional, at least not in the business world, but there was something raw and honest about him, like what you saw was what you got. No games. No ulterior motive. Yet there was a sense of "smart" about him that wasn't gained from books or schooling. And he might be a street performer, but he was no stranger to working with his hands. I felt their slight roughness when he accepted the money for his final trick. Something about that appealed to me.

  I guessed it would have to remain just a pleasant memory.

  I stifled a yawn. A nearby coffee shop caught my eye, so I treated myself to a large white chocolate mocha. Enjoying the warmth that filled my hands, I started back to find my car, sniffing appreciatively at the alluring scent. I paused to take a sip. So good, and so needed after not getting much sleep last night.

  "Hey, watch out!" Over the edge of my cup, I saw a guy texting on his phone as he hurried toward me, not paying any mind to anything around him. Sure enough, he bumped into me. Hot, caramel-colored liquid splattered as I stumbled into another person.

  I felt hands steady me and started to thank the person, but then I heard, "Watch where you're going," as if I was responsible. He pushed me off him and kept going.

  "Asshole," I called after him. He flipped me the bird. I almost laughed when I saw him run into someone and stumble. Karma, maybe?

  Everyone was in such a hurry. I guessed I was, too. I glanced at my wrist to see if I had time to get another coffee. But my watch was gone. I looked all over the ground, but it wasn't there.

  Oh, good grief. I knew exactly what had happened—a classic case of pickpocketing by diversion. At least I still had my purse. I doublechecked to make sure everything was there. That was when I noticed my mother's bracelet was missing from my other wrist. The stolen watch pissed me off, but tears sprung to my eyes over the bracelet. It was probably worth a fraction of the watch's worth, but the sentimental value was priceless.

  I reached for my phone to report the theft. I knew the authorities would never be able to find him, but maybe they could alert the pawn shops to look for my missing accessories.

  "Did you lose this?"

  My watch dangled in front of me.

  "Oh, my god! Where'd you find it?" I looked up to thank the person. "Oli!"

  While my mouth flopped open, he lifted my wrist and fastened the watch around it. "Mena. It's nice to see you again."

  "Wow. You remember me?"

  "Hard to forget a beautiful face like yours." He sent me one of his swoony winks.

  Flustered, I swallowed hard, my tears forgotten in the moment of surprise. "I looked for you today. I'd hoped you might be performing again."

  His face lit up. "Really? I only go there a couple times a month. People get bored if you show up too often, so I move around."

  "Oh. That makes sense."

  He seemed to notice he was still holding my hand and dropped it quickly.

  "So, you were looking for me?" he said at the same time I blurted, "When do you think you’ll be back here?”

  We both laughed. I glanced at my watch, feeling both relieved to have it back and grateful to see I had over an hour before I needed to be back at my office.

  "Hey, um, can I buy you a coffee or something? It's the least I can do," I offered.

  His gaze dropped to my watch, then to his feet for a second, and I was afraid he was going to say "no." Maybe the attraction was one-sided? But then he looked up again. "Yeah," he said softly, almost shyly. "I'd like that."

  "So, where did you find my watch? I looked all over the ground for it," I asked Oli once we were settled at a table with our coffee. I'd tried to buy him something more, but he refused. He even tried to pay for our coffee, but it didn't take much effort to see he only had a few dollars in his worn wallet. I insisted that I was the one who owed him, and it was true. The watch was worth several hundred cups of coffee.

  "It wasn't on the ground. I happened to be coming out of a shop a couple doors up the street and caught what happened. I know a frame when I see it, so I made sure he happened to bump into me. He's not the only one with quick fingers."

  "You pickpocketed a pickpocket?" I laughed. "I'm not sure if I'm more alarmed or grateful that you knew how to do that."

  "You shouldn't be afraid of me, Mena. I'd never hurt you. Trust me."

  Once again, I found myself mesmerized. He had such a hopeful expression, but there was doubt, too, as if he was used to people not believing in him. I didn't really know him well enough to be certain I could trust him, but I knew I wanted to find out. I was around enough people that I'd learned to read a lot of them pretty well. I sensed there was a lot more to learn about the man sitting with me, but I suspected I’d find everything about him fascinating.

  "I think I do."

  "Good." He settled back in his chair, his fingers spinning his cup around. "I like knowing that you wanted to find me again."

  "Oh." I felt myself blushing. "You're really good. It was fun. But I also wanted to figure out how you do it. I know it's a bunch of misdirection and sleight of hand."

  "I invite you to try." His voice was filled with amusement.

  "Where did you learn how to do magic?"

  He glanced around and then leaned forward as if sharing a secret. I found myself leaning forward, too. "My mother was a witch, and my father was a wizard, so..."

  I burst out laughing. "Funny. What's the real answer?"

  His face clouded over, and I was sorry I pushed. "Sorry. It's not my business."

  "No, it's okay. My childhood wasn't so great. I always wished there was some kind of magic that could just make everything better or to whisk me away to a better place. Obviously, that kind of magic wasn't real, but when I was a kid, I found a novelty shop down the street that sold magic supplies. That’s where I was when the guy ripped you off. Anyway, the owner was an accomplished magician. I wandered inside one day when I was a kid. I think I showed up there every day to read those books. I guess it was obvious I couldn't afford to buy anything, so he offered to teach me in exchange for some odd jobs. I guess it became an escape, and now I can earn some money from it for fun, but it's not a full-time job." A little red crept up his neck. "Sorry. That was the long answer."

  "So why street performances rather than some other venue?"

  He was silent for a moment, and I was worried I'd asked another uncomfortable question.

  "I like being able to play directly with my audience. Even when the trick is the same, it's still somewhat unique because the audience changes. You never know what they're going to say. I love watching the expressions of people up close. Everyone seems to leave a little happier, all because they took just a few minutes out of their day to watch me." He looked down at his coffee, spinning his cup slowly between his
fingers. "I guess that sounds a little conceited."

  "No, not at all." His answer wasn’t what I expected. "I love that answer. You like to use your talent to whisk people away from their troubles just for a little bit, like you’d wished when you were a kid."

  His eyes widened, and their gold center blazed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “I think I’m a little envious. I work for a company that produces products that are pretty much in every single household across the country. Yet, I don't get to see their reactions if something works or if it doesn't. And any satisfaction or complaint goes to another department while I just keep plugging numbers into graphs and mapping out projections."

  "If the products make their life a step easier, then that’s something good. But if you’re unhappy, why don't you make a change? Do something different."

  I pressed my lips together and held flexed my fingers into the Styrofoam cup. "I’m trying. It's not that easy. There’re other factors to consider. Every day I think today's the day I can make changes, but so far, everything is the same. I guess I feel..."

  "Trapped?"

  "Yes! That's it. I mean, I love what I do, but I always feel—"

  "Held back. Like if someone just looked a little deeper, they could see a different potential."

  My hand slapped the table. "Oh, my god, you get it. No one else does. They all see that I have a great job and think I should be satisfied. They never really take the time to see there’s more to me than what they think they see."

  "Believe me," he smiled sadly. "I totally get it."

  "I'm glad I saw your show. I live in this amazing city, but I’ve never taken the time to explore it, to see there are pleasures beyond my work. It makes me wonder what else I’ve been missing."

  "I'm glad I was able to show you something different. Hey, this has gotten too serious. Tell me something about you. Where do you work? What's your favorite color? What's your phone number?"

  "I see what you did there."

  "Did it work?"

  "We'll see." This time I winked at him.

  We chatted for a few more minutes. I told him truths about my work, such as the name of the company and that I was currently working on some contracts, but I didn't share my actual position within the company. For now, I just enjoyed not being an heiress and potential CEO of a large business. I only cared that he made me laugh and smile.

  I wrote my number on a napkin and pushed it across the small table. The next move would be up to him.

  Smirking, he picked it up. To my surprise, he crumpled it. Keeping his eyes on me, he blew on his closed fist, and when he opened his palm, in place of the napkin, there was my mother's bracelet.

  "You found it!" I shrieked, drawing several glares from other customers. I wiggled my fingers as a greeting until they looked away.

  "I was going to keep it to bribe you for your number, but you beat me to it."

  "I could kiss you. This was my mother's."

  "There's no reason you can't."

  In a move entirely unlike me, I stretched across the table to kiss his cheek. But he turned his head at the last moment, and our lips met. It was soft, and our eyes were open to each other. Nothing like a romantic first kiss was supposed to be. And yet, as our lips remained together, and his hand came up to stroke my cheek, I felt sparks.

  It was pure magic.

  Chapter 7

  Oli

  "What have I done?" I asked Abby, but as loyal as she was, she had no answers other than to pant as if she was nervous for me, too.

  "I should cancel. She's going to laugh at me. I never should have asked her out on a date." Abby nudged her head under my hand. My fingers automatically rubbed behind her ears, the familiar habit somewhat calming my nerves.

  Ever since I'd called Mena and asked her if she'd like to have dinner with me, I'd been regretting it. Almost, but not enough to cancel. Not because I didn’t want to see her again. But what was I thinking? She was out of my league. She was beautiful, smart, successful, classy, and did I mention beautiful? That moment I'd seen her when I was performing, I nearly messed up my trick. It was only because of years of doing it that I was able to recover. I'd meant to try to talk to her after the show, but then I was distracted with an offer to do a private party. I wasn't in a position to turn it down, so I'd had to take the time to exchange information. By the time I was done, I couldn't find her.

  I'd been disappointed, but since when was that new? I hadn't known it was her when I lifted the jewelry out of the asshole's pocket. If I had, I'd have given him a taste of my fist. I should have anyway. But then, I'd done some things in my life that weren't much better.

  So, perhaps I owed him a favor since it led me to Mena.

  Don't get me wrong; I'd known several women in the biblical meaning. There were the girls in my classes, the kind who'd coyly get you to come to a party or meet them at a bar. There were the ones who'd hang around after one of my street performances, and we'd find someplace to shuffle off to, usually their apartment since I hadn't had one until recently.

  But asking a girl out on a real date? I'd never done it, nor did I go back to those other girls for seconds. There'd never been a girlfriend. "Hey, how'd you like to come back to my tent" isn't the greatest incentive in a relationship.

  But circumstances had changed. And I'd never met anyone like Mena before. I could tell our backgrounds were different, but there was a connection that I'd never had before with someone my own age. So, for the first time, I was planning a date.

  I figured I knew the basics for a date: dinner and someplace special to hang out. But that was also the problem. Jilly had been full of suggestions: get her flowers, take her to a fancy restaurant, go on a carriage ride...All great ideas, but she had no concept of the expense or my tight bank account. Jack's thoughts had been more forthcoming: you're screwed.

  So, I did what any desperate man does, called a more experienced woman. Since I didn't have a mom who could advise me, the closest thing I had was Carla. Turned out to be a genius move. She suggested I take Mena to the food festival that was happening downtown. She said she just happened to have won tickets but couldn't go. I wasn't sure that was the truth, but when she insisted, I decided not to fight the issue. The admission included samples at the vendors, and there would be free music. I would only have to pay for drinks. Mena said she didn't really experience our city, and this was something I could give to her.

  When I texted her the details, she replied with several smiley face emojis and said she’d meet me there. Smart move on a first date. So, all that was left was for me to go.

  "Guess it's that time." Abby wagged her tail, licked my hand, and went to her blanket in the corner as if to say, "I'll see you later."

  I intentionally arrived early, but I didn't have to wait long before I saw Mena walking up the path to the ticket booth where we were scheduled to meet. I'm glad I saw her first because I needed that extra minute to get my reaction under control. The previous two times I'd seen her, she was in work clothes, a skirt and blouse and gorgeous long legs tucked into killer heels that made her look so classy. Her hair was usually done up in some fancy form, and her makeup looked like she'd taken modeling lessons.

  Today, however, she was in a pair of dark ripped jeans and a lightweight tan sweater that fell off one shoulder. Her hair was in a ponytail that showed off large hoop gold earrings. She still had on makeup, but it was more natural, and in my opinion, more beautiful. Soft leather boots completed her outfit. I had no idea casual could be so stunning. And given the looks she was receiving from other men, they thought so, too. It was all I could do not to pounce and mark her as mine, but she wasn't. Not yet.

  Maybe tight jeans were not the thing to wear today. I shoved my hands in my pockets to try to hide the noticeable bulge and thought of Sloppy Sally, one of the women who used to be part of the tent camp. She obviously had not figured out where to take showers and was, for lack of tact, gross. It worked.

  "H
i." Mena almost bounced up to me, her cheeks flushed. "I've been looking forward to this literally all week."

  I hauled her in for a hug and felt her breasts rub against my chest. Sloppy Sally. Sloppy Sally! I cleared my throat. "I'm glad you said 'yes.'"

  We handed in our tickets, and after helping each other put on a red wristband, she linked her arm through mine. "Let's go!"

  I loved her confidence and didn't mind a bit that she took the lead in holding my arm. We went to every vendor and tried every kind of food, some I'd heard of, many I hadn't. We laughed at each other's expression when we found something we hated and snuck back for seconds on things we loved. There could have been a thousand people there, but I didn't notice anyone but her.

  Pinkened clouds heralded the end of the day, and bands began to set up. We paused to listen to one. Mena rested her head against my shoulder and looked up at me. "Thank you. This has been the best." I could no more have prevented myself from leaning down for a kiss than I could have stopped the sun from its final descent. Her lips were soft and pliant as they moved against mine. It was merely a gentle touch, but the force of longing that blazed through me was searing.

  I didn't want to scare her with my intensity, though, so I pulled back and smiled at her. "I'm glad." I pulled her to stand in front of me, her back to my front, and wrapped my arms around her waist, and rested my chin on top of her head. We swayed with the music for a while, but the crowd was growing significantly, and we started getting jostled around. Reluctantly, we moved toward the exit.

  "I don't want this evening to end." Mena sighed, leaning her head on my arm as we walked.

  "Then let's keep it going. It's still early. Let's just walk a bit."

  Being a Saturday evening, downtown was relatively quiet except in the areas of bars and restaurants. Neither of us spoke much, but it was a comfortable silence, not awkward at all. After a couple of blocks, I paused in front of a locked gate at the entrance to a park.