Chapter Eleven

“Yes, I’ll take another drink,” I said, hanging over the bar, slurring to the cute bartender. “And every guy in this place, cute or ugly, is paying for it. Got it?”

“Anything for you, Miss Tremaine.” The bartender winked and handed me a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates.

I smiled and turned to the room. All gazes were on me. I gulped down the margarita in my hand, then opened my mouth to speak.

A redheaded woman in the front started to laugh, then a dark-haired guy to her left laughed, too. Then, one by one everyone else laughed.

“What are you all laughing at?” I snapped.

They all pointed at my chest. I glanced down. I wore a gray maid’s outfit covered in pink bubble gum. I reached to pull the gum off the front, and it stuck to my fingers. I tugged and somehow got it in my hair. The more I pulled, the more it seemed to attach itself like spider webs to my body. I yanked and scraped, and the laughing got louder and louder and—

I opened my eyes, gasping and panting. Where was I? I peered around the dark room. The shapes and outlines were unfamiliar. Fumbling for the lamp on the nightstand, I found the button, clicked it on, and cringed. Even with my eyes open, the nightmare persisted. The tiny maid’s quarters still remained and with me in them.

I flopped dramatically onto my back and checked the digital clock. Only five a.m., which was way too early to get up. I switched off the light and tossed to my side, facing the wall. I had just started to drift off again when the overhead light shot on.

“Rise and shine,” Eunice sang from the doorway.

I moaned and pulled the scratchy blanket over my head.

“Rosa wants you to peel potatoes. Up and at ’em.” She exited down the hall.

But I knew she’d be back if I didn’t get up. Besides, today I didn’t want to miss breakfast. I wanted to eat. With a roll of my body, I knocked my feet to the floor, and then inched to a stand. The morning air nipped icy and uncomfortable, and goose bumps prickled my skin. Geez! Don’t they believe in a heater down here? I shuffled down the hall, endured my claustrophobic shower, and donned my pauper’s uniform. I could do this. I would do this. Until I didn’t have to anymore, then, Lord help all these people who hurt me, because it would get nasty.

I walked into the kitchen.

The staff buzzed around cleaning, prepping, and cooking.

“Just in time for your first chore of the day,” the cook said. She placed a pot of potatoes on the counter and slicer next to it.

“Can I at least have a cup of coffee first?”

Rosa glared at me, then nodded. “Go ahead. You might even have a scone, as long as you can work and eat at the same time. We’re on a tight schedule today.”

I offered a grin that I was pretty sure did not match the annoyance in my eyes and reached for a mug from the cupboard. As I poured, I watched the sable liquid cascade with steam and bubbles in its wake. The smoky aroma smelled heavenly. I added a splash of hazelnut creamer and sugar, then brought it to my lips. The warmth blanketed my insides. I closed my eyes and imagined sitting on the couch in the den, drinking coffee with Dad. The same sounds and smells I had grown up with still lingered in the house, and for a moment, I was me again.

“I said you could get a cup of coffee, not take a break. Get to the potatoes.”

The cook’s voice scratched through my reprieve.

A plate of cranberry and orange scones sat on the stove.

I folded a napkin around one and walked it over to the bowl and peeler. Never in my life had I peeled a potato. I had never seen it done either. If I had my phone, I could look it up. But I didn’t, so now what? Did I admit this? They had been ruthless since second one. The crew loved to order me around. Super ridiculous. No matter what happened, no one wanted to help me. The more I protested, the angrier they got. Of course, so did my snark. I didn’t take the insolence well. Rude comments should come from me first. So, I might have been a little bad-mannered, but can anyone blame me? They started it.

But I would try to be nicer today. Hopefully, it would change how they treated me. Since they were hell-bent on making my life miserable, I doubted it. That I was sure of. And the more they did, the more I wanted to fight.

I twirled the kitchen tool in my hand. The peeler consisted of a plastic handle on one end, and on the other, a metal blade with a slot in the middle. Keeping the potato on the counter, I brought the blade to the spud and swiped down. Nothing happened. I turned it over and tried again. Again, nothing. I flipped it up, over, down, around, only a single sliver of peel came off. I tried for the umpteen time, and the potato catapulted off the counter and rolled across the floor.

Eunice and Rosa peered up from a pile of vegetables, shook their heads, and laughed.

Rosa leaned toward Eunice’s ear, whispered, and they both giggled.

“What?” I snapped.

Rosa clicked through her teeth. “You’ve got to be the worst maid ever.”

“Ya think?” I rolled my eyes. Simply put, I wasn’t a maid. Obviously, it was not my calling. I bit the side of my cheek, so I didn’t cuss her out or tell her off.

“Why are you still here?” Rosa’s contempt dripped from her lips.

“Trust me, if I could be anywhere but slumming it with you gals, yeah, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“I’m over being a charity home for wayward dogs. You want to leave, don’t let the door hit your patootie on the way out.” She pointed at the exit with her knife.

“Rosa!” Eunice gasped.

“Sorry, but it’s true. I don’t understand why everyone keeps protecting her. She can’t do anything. She’s complete trash. Did you see what she did to the crystal yesterday? Full of streaks. I had redo all of them. What’s the point of having her here if we have to fix everything she does?”

A struggle boiled within me. Heat radiated through my face, neck, and limbs. I could have easily retorted. Oh, how I wanted to—so badly—to put the cow in her place. But somewhere deep, very deep, I found the strength to stop myself. I knew any negative action would only cause this to become worse. She would send me packing. I breathed deep, swallowing what pride I had left. “I know I’m not the best servant, but I am trying to change. If you will just have patience, I’ll get there eventually.”

The woman scowled for a moment, then whispered something to Eunice, and returned to her project without another word.

I attempted, however, without any assistance, to peel that darn potato. Again, and again, the evil vegetable slipped out of my palm and spun onto the floor. At one point, I lifted my hand to chuck the vile gadget across the room, when a strong fist reached for the peeler. I glanced up to see Henry.

He retrieved the lost potato, cupped it in his hand against the counter, then pressed the blade side down against the skin, and a peel slid off.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“Here.” He placed the peeler back in my hand but didn’t let go.

His presence sent tingles up my spine. I tried to block them out and pay attention to his demonstration.

He led my other hand to hold the potato and glided my hand alongside to display the action. “You have to hold the potato like this and push hard with the peeler like so.”

My heart continued to pound faster in my chest at his touch.

He stepped back and waved. “Now you try.”

I stared a moment, then took both in my hands, and mimicked his movements. Amazingly, it worked. The peel slid off, revealing the white meat below. “Oh my gosh. Thank you.”

He nodded, crossed to the coffee pot, poured a cup to go, and then sauntered out the back door, as if he had never been there.

Again, Henry to the rescue. I hope being my hero didn’t go to his head. Though he was kind and crazy attractive, he was still a working man. Still beneath me. Maid or not, I ruled this place—or would. I could not bend to his level. I shook my head to release any delusions that whispered otherwise.

Someday, I would get back to my reality. January first, right? New Year’s Eve was only two months away. I could endure anything for that long. I would also find a way to see Dad. I hope that once I talked to him in person, he would remember me, and this would be over. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember Dad’s cell number. But soon, he’d show up here at the house. I hoped once he saw me, he would remember his own daughter, then everything could return to normal.

Next, they had me buff the silver, tidy the living room, and clean the toilets. Apparently, Meredith had guests coming over this afternoon. Finally released, I claimed my lame supper—two pieces of white bread, mashed potatoes, and some unidentifiable pressed meat—and shuffled back to my hovel. I was too hungry not to eat it, but I gagged a little every time I swallowed. Once the hunger subsided, I rejected the rest. I leaned against the wall in my room and sighed. Fresh tears burned my eyes, so I let them fall.

“You want to talk about it?”

I glanced up to see Henry leaning in my doorway. “What do you want?” I wiped my eyes.

He walked in and squatted in front of me. “Just making sure you’re okay. You seem to be struggling lately.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, more than I meant to.

“Okay then.” He held up his hands and moved to go.

“I’m sorry.” I touched his elbow. “I’m just stressed. Thanks for checking up on me.”

He shrugged, then half-smiled. “Sometimes you can be cool.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m a very truthful guy.”

“I see that.”

“But lately, you’ve been, I don’t know, different.”

“Is that good or bad?”

He lifted an eyebrow.

I had my answer. I nodded, understanding, bad. I toyed with honesty myself. No one, including Henry, had really listened to what I had to say. I prattled on about being someone else, but they saw it as some insane aspiration or spoiled fantasy. Despite the impending response, I chose to try again—to be candid. “I’m different, because my ‘truth’ is not the same as yours. I think I’ve somehow stepped into an alternate reality. A real-life nightmare.” I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. For me, anyway.”

“More declarations of dreams?”

“It’s not a dream.” His attitude annoyed me. Of course, I could understand why he wouldn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either, but I needed him to. “Can I tell you how I see this, without you making fun of me or blowing me off?”

He stared a moment, then folded his arms across his chest and shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”

“I am not lying when I say that three days ago, I owned all of this.” I spanned my arms as if to encompass the house. “A real-life fairy godmother came to see me, and poof, all of sudden, no one knows the real me anymore.”

“A fairy godmother?” His tone wavered on sarcasm.

“You promised not to tease me.”

“So, I did.”

“And since that’s what I remember, it’s been super hard. Everyone is treating me like a slave, and my own dad doesn’t seem to care or remember me.”

Henry crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “No one is treating you like a slave.”

I held up a callous on my pinky. “Does this look like the hand of anyone else?”

He drew my finger into his palm to get a better look.

His touch, warm and inviting, drew me to him. Normally, I would recoil, but I didn’t, which surprised me.

“You’ve had that dream before, you know. Where you’re rich. We all have. It’s what we all want; it just isn’t obtainable yet.”

“No!” I jerked back my hand and faced him. “See, that’s not it. It’s not some lofty thing I want or dream about. It’s something I had and lost.” I pointed around the room, landing on the ugliest watercolor flower painting ever made. “This is the nightmare.”

“This is pretty hideous.” He laughed. “Who decorated in here?”

I was not amused. “Look, what you’re saying is your reality. I desire more than anything to wake up, but no amount of pinching seems to work.” I held out my purple-and-black wrist, which was bruised with hours of squeezing.

He rolled his hand under my bruised limb. “You’re a mess.”

“You think?”

He smiled.

His thumb lightly grazed the base of my hand, sending butterflies through my body. “Do you like me?” I asked, surprising myself that I spoke.

He let go of my arm and didn’t respond.

“It’s fine. I get it. I’m not easy to like.” I sighed. “I just wonder why you keep helping me if you loathe me like the rest of them.”

“You can be a bit harsh sometimes, but I’m pretty convinced, somewhere deep inside you, there’s something worth liking.”

We locked gazes, and for a second, a thick tension formed between us, but then, we both laughed.

“Fair enough.” I glanced down at my shoe and noticed a small rip in the top seam between the cloth and the rubber. “Great. Now my one and only pair of shoes is torn.”

“I’ll see if I can find some duct tape or something.”

I giggled. “Yes, because duct tape fixes everything.”

“Exactly.” He walked back to the door. “Night.”

I smiled. “Night.”

He closed the door.

I laid back and dropped my stare to the scratchy green blanket beneath my leg. How I wished I would wake up. I flipped off the light. Shadows cast on the walls from perimeter lights coming through the small window above my bed. I watched them dance, and it took me back. I visualized lying on Mom’s bed when I was five. We spent hours there, imagining animals, monsters, cars, angels… Man, I miss her. Alone, in the dark, the infuriating emotions inundated me again. Depressed, I rolled over and moaned into my pillow. First, I lost my mother, then all my friends, now my dad, and all my worldly possessions. I had nothing left but a life of servitude. I closed my eyes and wept into the folds of cotton.

The fairy godmother said something about my “being good” would help me get everything back. But how did I do that? Be good. What did that even mean? Did it mean being nice to people? I cringed a little. Did it mean helping the poor, feeding the homeless, or donating a kidney? I gave to the less fortunate already. I didn’t fully get what the fairy godmother wanted. Maybe I should have asked Henry. He seemed like a good person. Always coming to my rescue, even when I didn’t want or ask for it. My stomach flipped as he drifted through my thoughts.

Perhaps being his friend wouldn’t be so bad. I could use a friend about now. Normally, with money and power, friendship came at a price, but now, without both, I needed the support. It wasn’t like he wanted anything from me or that I had any of value to give him.

Beyond Henry, what did “good” look like? What good person did I know? A sweet girl from high school flashed in my mind. Her name was Sheila. No, wait, Shelly? Or was it Stella? I frowned. Who cares? Some “S” name. Geez. I rolled back onto my back, hitting the bed with my arms. Focus. So, what made her good? To start with, she used to say “please” and “thank you” all the time. Completely hilarious, they voted her most likely to be a nun. A perfect brownnoser—teachers loved her, and, of course, I hated her. But she was a decent human being.

Surely, the fairy godmother wanted an “S” girl. Maybe that’s what I needed to be, more like Ms. S. Tomorrow, I would attempt the impossible and try to be a perfect angel. Actually, be nice to people, say “please” and “thank you,” and smile and encourage. I might even attempt to make friends. At the thought, I winced and threw up in my mouth a little. But inside, I knew I had this. In truth, I needed this to take steps to crawl out of this gaping hole before it swallowed me permanently. And maybe, just maybe, succeed in having this psycho pixie come back, flick her wand to get me the heck out of the dungeon, and back to my real life.