Chad couldn’t believe the crowd as he walked back to the arena. Cynthia had outdone herself with the promotion. He wanted to tell her. To thank her.
To go back in time and undo the things he’d said, to convince her, somehow, that he was better than the petty kid he’d shown himself to be.
Where was she?
He looked all over but the sea of people kept rising around him. DMC Solutions really had created a perfect event. At least, the C portion of it had.
And now, she was hiding.
Chad felt like such a fool. What was wrong with him? He’d been trying to compliment her, to tell her that she meant something to him, that he hadn’t expected it, hell, hadn’t wanted it, but nevertheless, he’d... he’d fallen for her, the girl least likely to attract his attention, now holding him by the short hairs.
God.
Surely he’d been somewhat more eloquent that that.
“Chad.” A woman he couldn’t remember the name of pulled him into an embrace. “What a lovely event. Thank you for inviting us.”
“At two-fifty a plate,” he said, returning the kiss, “the pleasure is all mine.”
She laughed, a bright, tinkling sound. “It’s for a good cause. That’s what matters. Oh and tell your caterer, Chad’s Kiss is my favorite.”
More laughter.
He pushed through the crowd. Damn it, if Cynthia thought she could avoid him all night, she had another think coming.
There!
A glimpse of a blond head, hair piled up high, the way she’d worn it at the awards banquet.
She was stunning.
But he didn’t like it. She looked like what Leda had called her, a sorority sister, a society woman. A princess.
She didn’t look like herself.
“Will you look at that?” said Eric, following his gaze. “She cleans up nice, doesn’t she?”
“Do you mind?” snapped Chad. “You’ve got a woman already. Leave some for the rest of us.”
“Oh ho,” Eric turned to him, a triumphant smirk on his mug. “So that’s how it is.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I owe Leda twenty bucks.”
The jangle of Leda’s boots announced her presence. She sidled up, gave Chad a smack on the cheek and then slipped her arm through Eric’s.
“Did I hear my name?”
“Uh-huh,” said Eric. “Turns out you were right.”
“Course I was.” She looked between them expectantly. “What about?”
“Chad and Cynthia.”
Leda gasped, put both hands in front of her mouth, then jumped up and down. “Oh yay, I knew it! I told Cynthia weeks ago that she was in love with you, but she didn’t believe it. I knew I was right, though. When did you figure it out? Ha-ha, pay up buster. Or I’ll take it in trade.”
Chad moved away from Eric and Leda’s playful banter before it got really nauseating.
His brain was misfiring, stuttering, caught on the casual words Leda had said to them.
Cynthia was in love with him?
“What a wonderful evening,” said someone else. “And such a great cause. Great drinks, too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Chad, brushing her off.
He had to find her again. This wasn’t over. Maybe he was an ass, maybe he’d worded things about as badly as a man possibly could, but he was going to make her know, one way or the other, how he felt.
He loved her.
As unlikely as it was, he loved her.
He was in love.
Chad Anders, playboy extraordinaire, lover of many, committed to none, had found someone he couldn’t part with.
The music changed, the lights fell, and still he couldn’t see her.
Then, suddenly, there she was again. He couldn’t breathe, looking at her. How could he have ever thought her plain? She was exquisite, a vivid butterfly, a swan, a rose, Mona Lisa, come to life.
A lock of hair had come down, and as he made his way through the hordes of people – why on earth had they invited so many? – he saw her raise her arms to pin it back up. She had a scarf or something pinned to that beautiful, shimmery dress and it slipped, revealing creamy shoulders and then, as if in slow motion, her entire back. The dress, so modest in the front, left her back naked from neck to waist.
The sweet curved flesh, muscled, yet soft, invited his eye to drift lower, and made him want to cover her up, lest every man in the place put his gaze on her.
She was the most fantastic creature he’d ever seen, with the same sweet curve to her neck that he’d seen in his dreams. Had he twisted his memory to match reality? A clever trick, one he was grateful he’d accomplished, if it were indeed the case.
He heard someone call her name, just as he was drawing near.
No! He wanted to grab her, to pull her away from the crowd, to show her that he wasn’t the superficial ass she believed him to be.
She turned away, and the scarf or shawl or whatever it was slipped again. She bent down to retrieve it and the lights from the lanterns caught her at just the right angle, and he saw it.
A diamond.
Four moles, in a perfect diamond shape, right at the sweet spot where waist and hip met.
He stopped short. His world slipped sideways. A waiter ducked around him, barely missing him with his tray.
It was true. Cynthia Henley was his dreamgirl.
Stunned, Chad slipped away from the crowd, taking refuge in a dark passage between the arena and the corral beyond. The night air cooled his face and he sucked it deep into his lungs. The music was softer out here, the sounds of the revellers muted, blending with the shifting and shuffling noises that signalled the awakening of the wild nocturnal world.
Chad leaned against the rough wood of the rail fence, trying to get his breathing under control. Cynthia Henley, the girl who never did anything crazy, who was the responsible one, who didn’t flirt and didn’t party and didn’t sleep around...
She was the girl he’d seen, ten years ago.
How could this be? What had happened, to make her do such a thing?
So much time had passed, only the bright spiky details of a few moments stayed with him and who knew how reliable they were? Was this behind Cynthia’s determination to be a “good girl”?
How had she faced him all this time, knowing that he’d seen her? What courage she had, underneath all that pride.
And here she was, the moles on display, the only one who would recognize their significance, him. And what had he done? Convinced her that she wasn’t his type, that she was a consolation prize. He hadn’t meant that, of course, but every time he opened his mouth he only made things worse.
“Mrrt.”
He jumped as something scuttled under the fence near his feet. Squinting into the dark, he saw a small cat, huddled against the fence, its wide eyes reflecting the moonlight.
It looked a lot like Cynthia’s cat, the one she’d been weeping over. How could that be?
Then he recalled the thump he’d heard the other day. On chilly nights, cats often climbed up into the warm spaces on the underside of vehicles, sometimes becoming accidental hitchhikers in the process.
It was Cynthia’s cat. Maybe, he thought, the cat could do the speaking for him.
“Hey, Frohike,” he said softly. “Come here, boy. We’re about to save each other’s lives.”
“So glad you’re enjoying yourself,” said Cynthia to yet another guest. She felt like her face was going to crack. With all the make-up she’d plastered on to cover up the tearstains, it was a distinct possibility.
She didn’t know where Chad was.
She couldn’t see Eric anymore either, but this had always been more of Chad’s event. He should be the one greeting people. He should be eating and drinking and making merry, celebrating the good work of his dear friend. Basking in the glow of his own success in furthering it.
She glanced at her cell phone. It was later than she’d thought. It was time to start the slide show, so Eric could present his speech and then they could get to dancing.
She wanted Chad to be there for the slide show.
Come on, Chad. Where are you?
Just then Melinda Sweet ran up to her, her dark hair tumbling over her pale face.
“Cynthia, there you are.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Hera,” she whispered. “My mom’s looking after both babies tonight. Somehow Hera shoved a pickle up her nose, far enough that they can’t get it out. They’re going to the hospital, just to be safe.”
“Oh,” said Cynthia. “I hope she’s okay.”
“She’ll be fine. They send their apologies. Eric said to give you this.”
She pressed a folded piece of paper into Cynthia’s hand and, after a sympathetic squeeze on the arm, Melinda went back to her seat.
No. No, no, no. Cynthia felt the lazy snake uncoil in her belly, lifting its ugly head, blocking her throat.
The guy handling the audio-visual waved at her from the main table, shrugging his arms widely as if to say, what’s going on, lady?
She glanced at the sheet Melinda had given her. Bullet points, with material she was already familiar with. Then, at the bottom he’d scrawled: fall, embarrassment, humiliation, therapy, starting over. Triumph over adversity.
That part was intensely personal. It was his story, one she knew only the basics of. But it was the part Chad was counting on to get people to donate generously. She couldn’t possibly recreate it.
They’d left a half-hour for Eric’s talk. She had maybe five minutes worth of stuff here.
Unless.
She glanced down at her cell phone again. It was time. And in fact, she had all the material she needed.
Blindly, she started walking toward the front, the paper crinkling in her damp grip. If she didn’t do it right now, she wouldn’t be able to do it at all, she thought, stepping up to the podium. Someone had to speak. There was no one but her.
“Cindy?” said Maddie, limping to her side. “What are you doing? Where’s Eric?”
“Gone,” she whispered. “Something about the baby. I’m guh-guh-giving his s-s-speech.”
“Oh, Cindy.” Maddie grabbed her arm fiercely.
“I nuh-nuh-know. Buh-but I have to.”
“Listen to me, Cynthia.” Fire came from Maddie’s eyes. “You can do this. Do you understand me? You can. I believe in you. Okay?”
Try it, hissed the snake, fangs bared.
Then, like the savior in a horror movie, appearing out of the mist to a swell of music, just when all is lost, she saw Chad. Time slowed and background sounds disappeared, swallowed up by the thump-thump of her heart.
He was at her side, touching her shoulder, courage rolling off him like a wave.
“I just heard. I’m gonna kill him. You don’t have to do this, Cynthia. We don’t need a speech.”
“We do. I can duh-do it, Chad. I, I can.”
Chad looked hard at her. Then softly, he said, “Of course you can. You know why? Because you’re the most amazing person in this entire crowd.”
She swallowed and the snake disappeared.
“Thanks, Chad,” she said.
“Go get ’em, sweetheart,” he said.
She cleared her throat and stepped up to the podium.
“L-ladies and gentlemen,” she began. The lights went to black, the arena illuminated by dancing spotlights alone.
Chad hovered just outside the circle of light, cursing himself for letting her do this. Why hadn’t he insisted on doing it himself? Why hadn’t they just scrapped the speech?
Cynthia was at the mic, and while she smiled bravely into the crowd, he could see the fine lines of anxiety on her face. She fidgeted with the paper in front of her and her hands were trembling.
This was supposed to be Eric’s job. Yet another task that fell to the one girl who could always be counted on, no matter the cost to herself.
“As you nuh-nuh-know,” said Cynthia into the mic, “we owe this night to the generosity of Eric and Chad Anders, of Anders Run and Building Tomorrow.”
She paused and the crowd applauded.
“Eric uh-uh-Anders had to leave early,” she went on. “But during my work putting this nuh-night together, I learned enough that ho-ho-hopefully I can sh-share something with you. Plus,” she waved the paper at them, “he left me his notes.”
The audience chuckled.
As if to send her his strength through the air, Chad reached out, holding his fist in front of him, wishing there was something, anything he could do to spare her from this, her nightmare.
She looked over the crowd, then slowly, brought her gaze to meet his. She smiled slightly and, whether she could see him or not, he smiled back.
“The world is full of vuh-very different people,” she began. “Some divide them into cuh-categories. Rich. Poor. Thin. Fat. Puh-pretty. Plain. Smart. Dumb.” She swallowed. “Some categories are muh-more advantageous than others, or so it might seem. Building Tomorrow was established to buh-benefit those for whom the deck is stacked in such a way so as to make the odds of them succeeding extremely small. We all know such people. In some way, we all are, or have been, such people. Because the categories are not as cut and dried as we might want them to be. Wealth has many currencies. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those who struggle in one area are often uniquely gifted in another.”
She was flying, Chad realized. She was doing it. Triumph surged through him. She wasn’t stuttering at all anymore.
Cynthia looked up, set aside the page and addressed the crowd herself.
“My mother died when I was six years old. That same year, I developed a speech impediment. A stutter. A fairly dramatic one, as some of you might recall.”
A titter ran over the crowd.
“My wonderful father found me a speech therapist but I still suffer anxiety at times and that’s when my ss-ss-stutter, or my snake, as I call it, comes to life.”
What was she doing?
“As part of tonight’s entertainment, I’d like to puh-play a clip of just how buh-bad my stutter can be. Bear with muh-muh-me folks. I promise, there’s a rr-rr-reason.”
She put her cell phone up to the mic and then to his shock, the audio came on of Cynthia’s famous interview with the Marietta paper.
“Puh-please,” said Cynthia, over the sound, “feel free to laugh. Find the humor in this with me.”
Someone had dubbed music into the clip, rejigging it to magnify the stutter and repetitions. The crowd, uncertain at first, followed Cynthia’s lead, and soon, the entire room was rolling in the aisles.
What a sport she was!
She walked back and forth in front of the podium now, holding the mic like a talk show host.
“I had to learn to laugh at myself. It was that or curl up and die. And who of us hasn’t experienced something similar? I was lucky to have resources, a loving father and later, a wonderful second mom and sisters of my very own. They made me develop the cuh-cuh-courage to step out of my comfort zone and take risks. Lately, that comfort zone has been further ch-challenged. But I’ve decided that it’s better to take risks, to push the boundaries, to reach for the stars, than it is to stay safely hidden away.”
At that, she shucked off the shawl, letting it flutter to the ground. As the room cheered, she turned and met Chad’s eyes directly, saw his gaze drop to the diamond of moles on her skin.
“I challenge you, my friends. Shake off the things that bind you. Stretch yourself. Be the person you know you can be, deep inside. And then make the commitment to help others do the same. Building Tomorrow is here to give a hand to kids in our community who need us. I challenge you to open your hearts and your wallets and help us build a better tomorrow, starting right here and now.”
The room went crazy. The DJ hit the music and the spotlight fell off Cynthia’s face.
He held out his hand and grabbed her as she stepped unsteadily off the stage.
“Where did that come from?” he said, taking both her hands in his. “You were fantastic. Incredible! You could be a motivational speaker, you know that?”
Cynthia shuddered. “I need a glass of wine. And suh-suh-some air. I can’t buh-breathe.”
Chad flagged down a passing waiter and snatched a glass of champagne off his tray.
“Come with me. I know where they keep the canapés.”
“Oh thank God,” she said. “Now that it’s all over, I’m suddenly starving.”
He grinned. “I knew it. When’s the last time you ate?”
She leaned against him. “I hate to admit it, but I can’t remember my last proper meal.”
“Good,” he said, feeling his blood rise. “I’m going to enjoy feeding you.”
“Canapés won’t do it though.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, leading her past the kitchen. “You’re going to get the full meal deal. I may even,” he said, thinking of the kitten, “have a surprise for you.”
“I’m done with surprises,” she said. “No more mysteries, no more secrets. Can I just tell you now, while I’m a little high on whatever just happened, that I think I might be in love with you a little bit? I’m sorry about that. I don’t know how it happened. But I’m tired of pretending I don’t like you when I actually really, really do.”
Chad ran his finger down her side, lingering on the four moles near the plunging back of her dress.
“You do, huh?”
Frohike could wait. But he’d find that kitten and save it for her if it was the last thing he did. He’d get her a hundred kittens, if that’s what she wanted.
“I really do,” she said.
A thousand kittens. Hell, he’d start a shelter for her. He had the money, after all.
“I’m happy to hear it. Because I’m done with mysteries too. It seems the magical, mystical fantasy woman I’ve been chasing all these years has been right under my nose. And far better than I could have ever dreamed.”
“Cinderella,” she said, leaning into his arms. “I’m your Cinderella.”
“You can be whoever you want to be,” he said. “As long as you’ll be with me happily ever after. Deal?”
She heaved a deep sigh. “Deal.”