Two Weeks Later...
Fast forward two weeks and April’s bright, beautiful New Year with all its aligning stars and brilliant plans? Fizzle, pop, thud. She wondered which gods she’d pissed off and how. And what kind of sacrifices it might take to get them back on side.
Which was how she found herself nibbling the inside of her lip, tapping a foot, fiddling with the end of her scarf. She scanned the lobby of the Hotel Rouen for the woman she’d organised to meet. The woman she hoped would help her disentangle the knots of her new year and get it back on track.
The place was seriously fancy, even by Sydney standards. Potted palms the size of elephants shaded chintz couches and gold-trimmed claw-footed coffee tables. A gigantic art deco skylight sent shards of fractured sunlight over a stunning fountain that rivalled the Trevi.
The thing was huge. Bigger than her apartment. It had once upon a time been an attic—her apartment, not the fountain—so that wasn’t saying much. But still. She was more than a little surprised at how many people walked around the thing without gawking.
Neptune, or Triton, or whomever the Norse god of the sea might be stood majestically in the centre of the thing – all effortlessly curling hair and slanting cheekbones, barrel chest and serious muscles, his face contorted in a look of dark vengeance as he commanded the giant spray of water bursting from the rocks at his feet. And he was naked. Utterly. His boy bits were covered by the timely crossing of a leg, but April had no doubt they’d be as impressive as the rest of him.
Not her type at all. Too alpha. Too much testosterone. He looked like he had everything well under control. Where was the fun in that? And yet...
She looked around. Didn’t anyone else in the place feel the urge to kick off their shoes, lift their skirts, and splash about in his shallow pool?
Maybe not. Heels were high here, jewels shiny and real. While April was a girl on a budget, more so now than ever—her broderie anglaise dress was more boho than Balenciaga, her knee-high boots faux suede, her impossible waves already starting to spring from their topknot.
Or maybe wallet-size had nothing to do with it. It was probable she was the only one in the place who’d secretly skipped out of work early to have a cloak-and-dagger rendezvous after clicking on one of those clever—insidious—little internet ads that had popped up in her sidebar at three in the morning...
Under a picture of a gorgeous couple – rugged guy, kooky girl – with a love heart scrawled around them it had said, Feeling unsettled? Harbouring frustrations you just can’t shake? Ever imagined a real life, fairy godmother who’d grant you your deepest wish?
Yes, yes, and hell to the yes!
Then the Cinderella Project is the answer to all your wildest dreams.
Lo and behold, serendipity—hope’s favourite cousin—had come to her rescue!
God, how she hoped that was true.
At the incongruous clatter of tiny feet on tile, April looked right to find a tiny, rust-coloured Pomeranian prancing towards her on a lead so bright it looked like it had been dipped in diamond dust.
At the other end of the lead tottered a teenaged blonde in a hot pink shift dress and rainbow wedges, her long ponytail swinging cheerfully behind her.
But it was the woman behind the teenager who had April transfixed.
Perfect platinum hair waved to just below the jewels glinting at her ears. And the curves of a cheesecake model a third her age had been poured into a dress covered in enough glitter to choke a small animal. If anyone could pull it off, this woman could. She oozed so much charisma it was as if a shaft of sunlight had pierced a cloud just so it might light her way.
The younger blonde curled the dog’s lead into her hand before leaning into the reception counter with a rainbow wedge lifted behind her. The girl behind the desk pointed to April.
April uncurled the scarf from its tight loops around her nervous fingers and lifted her hand in a wave.
The dog got to her first, sniffing the air about her ankles, no doubt catching the lingering scent of Prince – April’s one-eyed, lactose-intolerant cocker spaniel.
The younger blonde smiled. “April Swanson?”
“That’s me!” Her voice caught. She must have been more tense than she realised.
“That’s Hazel.” She jabbed an elbow towards the walking disco ball. “I’m Marcy. We spoke on the phone? Sorry we’re late. Hazel was being interviewed for a TV thing in one of the suites upstairs and it ran long.”
“Television, Marcy, darling,” said Hazel in the wonderfully husky voice of a forties lounge singer. “TV makes it sound so gauche.”
Marcy performed what amounted to a sarcastic curtsy. Hazel’s mouth twitched.
If April had wanted the chance to reflect upon her three-in-the-morning decision-making capabilities it was too late now.
When Hazel’s gaze slid to April, Marcy stage whispered, “April Swanson – actual client.”
Hmmm? What now?
Hazel’s eyes lit up and she grabbed April by the hands. Her fingers were so chilly April jumped.
“Of course! I’ve never seen anyone so ready to voyage on a journey of self-improvement.”
April smiled, then frowned; not sure if she’d just been dissed. She shrugged it off. She was here now. She was doing this. She’d forked out a small fortune for the honour. And Erica always scoffed that her middle name might as well have been Pollyanna. No choice but to make the most of it. “I am so ready.”
“Then welcome to the Cinderella Project!”
Hazel’s voice seemed to echo throughout the large lobby – heads turned, eyebrows raised, April winced. Even for a girl with her high degree of hope, the “Cinderella Project” felt twee. April had to make sure her sister never found out.
Which would take some doing because, “Funny thing. I’m actually a friend of Juliana Jones.”
Which was where the serendipity part came in.
“JJ? You know my JJ? Oh, how is that darling girl?”
“Good. Great in fact. My sister Erica was the one who accidentally booked JJ onto the cruise where you guys met. JJ calls you her fairy godmother.”
April left out the part where JJ also called Hazel a “meddler” who “doesn’t know the meaning of the word no”. But JJ was a tough sell. And there had been a kind of begrudging warmth beneath her words, which was as good a testimonial as April could hope to get.
Hazel gripped April all the tighter, her eyes sparkling. “Did you know that JJ and Kane were the catalyst for my realising that it was my duty to take my facilitating skills seriously.”
She did not.
“Now I am doubly intent on giving you everything you ever wanted.”
Okay. April breathed out fully for the first time since Hazel had caught her eye. For how could a girl possibly say no to an offer like that?
With relief, April’s fountain-splashing urges faded away.
“Can I leave you to it?” Marcy asked.
Hazel hooked a hand through April’s elbow. “Marcy, you act as though dear April needs a chaperone. We are about to have a lovely time getting to know one another, I can feel it.”
Marcy cocked her head, said, “Good luck to you then, Miss Swanson.” She then wrapped the lead tighter around her hand and departed with prancing Pomeranian in tow.
“Now, kitten,” Hazel said, “let’s go find you the man of your dreams!”
Caught up in Hazel’s infectious enthusiasm, April tipped up onto her toes, said, “Let’s!” Then landed flat on her feet. “Wait. What?”
“Hmm?”
“Sorry. But there’s been a misunderstanding. I didn’t sign up for your”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“matchmaking service.”
There had been that option on the Cinderella Project website, sure. But April didn’t need a date. For all the areas of her life where she could do with a little fairy dust, meeting men wasn’t one of them. Men were easy. The good majority were in dire need of her ability to organise them. Which she did, before moving on, knowing she’d left them better off.
“No?” Hazel’s disappointment was palpable.
April shook her head. Hard enough the topknot holding her riotous waves into place slipped a tad to the side. She gave it a quick yank, expertly anchoring a bobby pin into place.
All the while, Hazel gave her a brisk once-over, then a twice.
A smile bloomed around her mouth; her forehead remained disconcertingly still. “Silly me. You’re clearly after the pre-matchmaking makeover. With a few small improvements, April, I can turn you into a woman fit for a prince.”
April swallowed. Her enthusiasm beginning to unravel.
So they’d yet to find their groove. That was all. It would be fine.
She deliberately kept her gaze away from the fountain and said, “Actually, I’m not after the makeover, either.”
Hazel’s hands flew out sideways. “Kitten, you’re going to have to point me in the right direction.”
Where to start? The promotion calamity? Apartment woes? Crazy family? Suddenly New Years didn’t seem far enough back.
“Okay. Here’s the thing. I’m a nice person. I pay my rent on time. I never forget a birthday. I’m a model employee. A promotion is coming up at work. The promotion. The job I was born to hold. Head of the Human Resources at Halcyon Whole Foods Wholesale. I think – no I know, I’d be great at it. Yet, a couple of weeks ago, I discovered there’s a near certain chance it’s going to someone else.”
Not just anyone else. Jase. The sweet, hapless, new guy she’d had on her list of things to do in the New Year. Not do, but... Well, okay, “do” pretty much covered it.
Turned out the entire office was smitten with the adorable dope and, in the democratic way of touchy, feely, happy, smiley Halcyon Whole Foods Wholesale, two days earlier they’d voted on their preference for the next head of Human Resources accordingly, which would go a long way to the big boss’s final decision. Meaning the pay raise she’d been counting on... gone.
So, no promotion.
No balloon payment on her apartment.
No hapless cutie.
All her big plans for her beautiful, fresh new year evaporated in the blink of an eye.
If there’d been a fountain nearby the moment April had heard the news, she’d not only have danced naked in the thing, she’d probably have kicked it down, piece by piece.
She pressed her boots into the fancy floor and took a long slow breath through her nose, reconnecting with calm April, good April, the April who was not a slave to her endocrine glands.
“So, this is about a job?” Hazel asked, clearly not as excited by the prospect as she was about finding April a guy, or a new hairdo for that matter.
“It is. But it’s more than that.”
The dissatisfaction that had been nudging her for the past few months, encouraging the impulses to indulge in “little rebellions”—as her mother was so fond of calling the times when April gave into her rare crazy whims—ran deeper than she’d admitted to herself. But how to put her naked-fountain-dancing-urge into normal-person words?
“The promotion hiccup made me realise that I’ve been taken for granted. Not only at work but with friends, with family. April will bring make a hundred cupcakes for such and such event. April will work overtime to get that finished. April will give up her seat at the table, no worries.” As the words bubbled and boiled and spilled from her mouth, April realised how true they were.
And how much that truth hurt.
With a puff of breath she said, “I’ve had enough.”
After a few loaded beats, Hazel said, “Well, well, well. It seems the kitten is looking to stretch her claws.”
“Yes,” she said. Then, “I mean no.” That was the opposite of what she wanted. She’d signed up with the Cinderella Project in an effort to get what she wanted, while curbing the wilder impulses that always got her into trouble. Hadn’t she?
Hazel once again took April by the hands, pinning her to the spot with a glare. “Did you or did you not sign up to change your life?”
Change her life seemed a little drastic. Her life was nice, actually; comfortable, safe, pretty much exactly as she’d planned for it to be. It had just jumped off track a little.
That said, it was hard not to be caught up in Hazel’s gusto, especially now they were on the same page. She hoped.
April breathed out hard. Rolled her shoulders. Feeling more than a little like Rocky before a big prize fight – she could all but hear the bells chiming in the back of her head – she said, “I did.”
Hazel’s smile was resolute. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
It seemed April was going to change her life in a bar.
True, it was a classy bar. The Chaser was an oval-shaped wonder, scooped out of the lower floor of the Hotel Rouen in order to take advantage of the sweeping views out of its huge curved windows. Sydney’s famous harbour twinkled back, a bright sunny juxtaposition against the deeply masculine burnished golds and muted browns of the decor inside.
Hazel led the way to a vacant cocktail table smack bang in the middle of the room. Once seated she ordered an exorbitantly expensive bottle of bubbly then waved the waiter away.
Hazel said, “It would be remiss of me not to point out that this place is a veritable smorgasbord of eligible men. With my help, you could be living happily ever after before you know it.”
Despite the cringe factor that accompanied Hazel’s words, April found herself flicking a glance towards the bar.
She’d noticed the giant in the white button-down shirt the moment they’d walked through the door. Who wouldn’t? Slick suit jacket haphazardly thrown over the back of a bar stool, long fingers wrapped tightly around an empty tumbler, huge shoulders lifting and falling as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, the back of his shirt stretching out till it looked in danger of splitting at the seams. The guy was all glowering, swirly, enigmatic vibes.
He moved, rolling one broad shoulder and cricking his neck so she caught a hint of the kind of profile that’d give the David a run for his money, and – heat rushing to her cheeks – she quickly looked away, making a show of stowing her satchel over the back of her stool. “I’ve never been all that fussed about ‘happily ever after’. It seems like such a big ask to plan that far ahead. I prefer to focus on happy right now.”
The edge of Hazel’s mouth twitched. “Poor darling. Who burned you?”
“What? Me? No. Never. I like men. They like me. I’m a champion at relationships. No bad break-ups in my past. Men and I are hunky dory.”
It was the truth. The whole truth. Though perhaps not quite “nothing but the truth”.
April hadn’t been burned. That dubious honour went to her mother. Finding out her husband of fifteen years had been seeing another woman for a decade of that time was about as burny as that kind of thing got. Learning from her mother’s mistake was part of April’s all candour, all the time, eyes-wide-open policy. Seemed only smart.
“Then what if the man of your dreams was here, in this room, right now?”
April gave Hazel a flat stare.
Time to put this line of questioning to bed. “The only man I dream about with any consistency is my high school health teacher as he berates me for not remembering to wear my sports uniform. If he was in this room right now, I’d probably find a way to kick him in the shin.”
Hazel’s mouth stretched into an all out smile. “Perhaps our kitten’s claws are sharp enough.”
April held out both hands, supplicating. “I’m harmless. Honestly. The only thing I’m interested in right now is that promotion. Everything else will settle into place once I have it in my hand.”
And yet the urge to get another look at Mr. Dark and Swirly in the white shirt was suddenly quite something.
“Now, this job you are so gung ho for—”
April breathed out with relief. Okay. Finally.
“Tell me; how have you gone about making yourself irresistible thus far?”
“Irresistible?”
“To your boss.”
April blinked. “He’s sixty. And married. And my boss.”
By Hazel’s slow smile, it appeared those concerns were April’s alone.
“I mean, how have you made it clear that not promoting you is not an option?”
Oh. Well, phew. “Well, I’ve been with the same company since I was fifteen, so I am loyal. I’ve worked in every section of the company, so I know the place inside and out. And...” So this wasn’t one of her finer moments. “After the vote went against me, I cornered Stan – my boss – in the break room and pretty much told him he should have given me the job because I deserve it more.”
“You’re not the most subtle person, are you, dear?”
April shook her head. For a moment she considered quoting her mother’s famous book. There was a whole chapter in The Truth Will Set You Free entitled “Subtlety = Subterfuge”. A chapter April happened to believe in.
That said, there were also three chapters dedicated to her mother’s efforts at building a completely honest child she named “May”. The older sister character, “Becca”, had been dedicated one chapter in which it was made clear “Becca’s” rebellious nature did not lend itself to parental moulding and so she was a lost cause. Names had been changed to “protect the innocent”.
“Alright,” said Hazel. “I see now what we need to do. Your situation requires a deep deconstruction. Far deeper than most. Do you believe you can go there with me?”
April believed so hard she was literally on the edge of her seat.
Hazel waved her hand around the bar like the hostess on a game show and said, “Pick one.”
“Pick one what?”
“A man, darling.”
April deflated so fast she could practically hear the air hissing out of her ears.
Suddenly it hit her – what if Hazel was a one trick pony? What if matchmaking was all she could do? That was how she’d helped JJ after all.
April wasn’t after tricks. This was her reality. And right now it was a hot mess. Which was why the ensuing panic at the amount of money and hope she’d put into this endeavour sparked against her struggle to stay cold and bled into her words. “What exactly am I meant to do with him after I pick him? Ask him for advice on how to get the promotion?”
April bit her tongue, but it was too late. The “little rebel” had come out to play.
Thankfully Hazel wasn’t taken aback. In fact she smiled so wide wrinkles almost appeared around her eyes. “We will work on subtlety later, kitten. Right now we need to work on your game. Stop panicking, I can see it in your eyes. I’m not asking you to marry him. Walk up to a man. Talk to a man. Recommend yourself to a man.”
“But that’s not my problem. I’ve got game.” She did.
If she saw potential in a guy, she’d make a play. And they rarely, if ever, turned her down. If “Girlfriend of the Year” was a thing, she’d have been in with a good chance tonnes of times.
Hazel raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow blowing April’s Botox theory right out of the water. “What you have, darling, is a delightful naïveté and what I can only hope is a deliberate misunderstanding of the physical advantages God has given you.”
Ouch.
“I have no doubt the escaping curls and flowing dresses and little girl lost mien sets a certain kind of man’s heart aflutter. But when it comes to getting ahead in life, really getting ahead, hiding your light under a bushel can only hinder your goals.”
Double ouch.
“Here was your mistake – you told your boss you wanted the job. I want Tom Jones to make me his love slave. But it’s never going to happen. You need your boss to believe that his life will be better off in giving you this job. Not by being nice, upfront, available – by showing strength, taking power, making yourself—”
“Irresistible,” April murmured.
Hazel smiled so wide her canines got a showing. “It’s time to break you out of your comfort zone, Ms. Swanson.”
April’s heart beat hard against her ribs. She liked her comfort zone. It was... comfortable. A million miles from the extreme inconvenience of living under a psychological microscope that summed up her childhood.
And yet it wasn’t working for her anymore. It was time to admit it.
Time to do something to fix it. “How does simply picking a man achieve that?”
Hazel leaned forward, her shrewd gaze boring into April. “Not simply, darling. Thoughtfully. Purposefully. This is serious business, darling. Your future happiness depends on it.”
“If my future happiness depends on it...”
Hazel smacked her lightly on the back of the hand. “Claws away, kitten. Now let’s have ourselves some fun.”
Fun. Jase had fun. Jase made it clear that he was up for anything. So despite the fact that he had no known skills or interest in the promotion, the staff had voted accordingly.
She could have fun. Didn’t mean she had to swim naked in fountains. Just loosen the reins a little.
And with that decision April gave herself over fully to the Cinderella Project, which felt akin to asking a hungry vampire to take care of her neck.