by Scott, D. D.
D. D.’s first two short stories — The Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mysteries — FLUID FULFILLMENT and LICENSED FOR LOVE — released in October 2011, and a D. D. Scott Special Edition Ebook Boxed Set followed in December 2011, which included all three Bootscootin’ Books plus the first two Cozy Cash Mysteries. Her brand new Serial Novels THE STUCK WITH A SERIES released in March 2012, with STUCK WITH A SCHMUCK and STUCK WITH A STIFF, along with a total of 14 additional releases throughout 2012.
Declaring 2011 to be “The Year of the E-Book & Cross-Pollination”, D. D. co-founded and launched The Writer’s Guide to E-Publishing , your destination site for Everything E-Publishing. Whatever you want to know and/or cuss and discuss about E-publishing, it’s right there at The WG2E waiting for you!
And declaring 2012 “The Year of the Reader”, she founded The RG2E — The Reader’s Guide to Epublishing — a sister site to The WG2E, which launched February 1, 2012 and is “the” new destination site for the Best in Ereading, Ebook Gifts and Ereader Giveaways too.
When she’s not writing, she’s busy luuuvin’ on her real-life hero “Sweet Man” and their beloved shelter-rescued dog Buckley and his new playmate Siggy the Affenpinscher.
For updates on her books, her sexy, sassy, smart neurotic writer’s life blog, and for a schedule of her appearances and Muse Therapy Sessions, visit her website D. D. Scott-ville.
Mirror, Mirror
A Fractured Fairy Tale Sampler
By Barbara Silkstone
The most important day of my life? Could be, at least since the accident. One thing for sure, I was the most amped I’d been since I escaped from the hospital. My skin tingled and my senses were super-sensitive. Traffic was slow so I lowered the windows to blow the stink of my last turtle rescue from the interior of my car. The soft April air was tinged with the briny smell of the Atlantic Ocean even though I was two blocks away.
It was almost happy hour when I reached the Queen’s Croquet nightclub on the beach. The valet parking lot was packed with vehicles ranging from the opulent to the outrageous, Bentleys to Lamborghinis. I cruised the secondary lot looking for a space until I spotted an empty slot next to a familiar figure getting out of a yellow Corvette. Tina’s platform shoes were on the ground, skirt rising up her slender thighs. I slipped my Honda hunchback into the parking spot next to the ‘Vette and closed the windows. I hoped the turtle smell wasn’t clinging to my hair. I stepped out and tugged on the hem of my blue mini-dress.
A covey of black Cadillac limos were running guests to the club entrance. My friend Kit Kennedy, the consummate showman, did nothing by halves. A drag queen by night and a nail tech genius by day, Kit was an astute businessman with a gift for attracting the movers and the shakers in the city. He’d been my mentor and confidant for years.
As the limo approached I took my velvet-wrapped magic mirror from the front seat of my car. The piece felt heavier than usual, maybe just nerves. Kit had staged this Spring Fling party in my honor, a grand-reveal of my latest and best invention.
Cockney voices carried on the fishy breeze. Not the usual lilt for the South Beach area where New Yawk and Spanglish prevailed. I followed the chatter and found myself staring at a plug-ugly wannabe drag queen accompanied by a portly priest. I stood hidden and silent in the shadow of a palm tree.
The priest who must have weighed over three-hundred pounds spoke in a loud whisper. “You sure you got this right, Algy?”
The skinny little queen was about my height which is exactly five-three. He wore an emerald green sequined dress and sported hairy legs and boney knees, looking as much like a woman as I did an NBA center. He reached up and grabbed the priest’s jacket. “I tell you this is a Vicars and Tarts Party. Just like back home in England. It’s a festival with blokes wearing priests’ clothes and birds dressed like prostitutes. I went to one once. It looked just like this.”
“No offense but you don’t look like a bird or a prostitute of any worth.”
The little guy pulled his straps up over his chicken-wing arms. “Don’t be offended but you do look like a vicar. Priestly robes suit you. Wave down the limo, we need to find that Wendy bird. We didn’t come all the way across the pond for nothing. Wherever she is, there’s sure to be treasure. I can smell the loot.”
“That’s dead fish you’re smelling,” the big guy intoned, most vicarishly.
The little faux-tart’s wig slipped as he shoved the vicar toward the car. They clambered in. I stepped from my hiding place and followed. Tina, already inside, patted the seat next to her. I sat clutching the mirror against my chest.
“Excited?” Tina whispered in a breathy voice.
“Nervous. What if the venture capitalists Kit invited aren’t interested in my mirror?”
Tina patted my hand. “They’ll love it.”
The non-queen of tarts leaned forward, glitter raining from his hair. He extended a cadaverous hand. I squinched my face and allowed a half shake of his sweaty hand.
“Algy Green.” He nodded toward the less-than-svelte vicar. “This here is Nobby Seemore.”
He pointed to my velvet-wrapped secret. “Wha’ ‘cha got there?”
“It’s personal,” I snapped as I turned and gazed out the window.
Two minutes later the limo pulled to a stop under the canopy of the beachfront club. Followed by Tina and the strange twosome I walked toward partying voices and the tinny sound of a Calypso band that could be heard over the rhythm of the ocean waves.
“There you are!” Kit dashed toward me. He was dressed in a tux, his blond-tipped hair cut in a Hugh Grant fluff. He carried his six foot four frame with the grace of a dancer. “Pass me the mirror. I’ll be careful.” He took my package.
“Walk this way.” Kit wiggled his tush and laughed. “I have some friends I want you to meet. I can’t believe you’ve not met Alice and Wendy. They’ve been my clients for years. They’re on the patio near the bar.”
I followed him into a glass-enclosed foyer and then up a marble staircase to the second story of the Queen’s Croquet. So this is where Kit lives. As dark and decadent as the nightclub was, the second floor was Miami Modern and Art Deco with a panoramic view of the blue Atlantic. The walls were a soft shade of amber, the floors white terrazzo carrying the feel of the pale sand and changing hues of the ocean into the main room. A coquina stone fireplace shot up from the floor through the roof, visible through the largest skylight I’d ever seen.
He escorted me to the patio through a walkway with white walls and ceilings covered in lush vines, banquettes with soft-toned pillows and glass guardrails lead guests to the infinity pool. The deck was pale weathered wood and ran at least two hundred feet parallel with the shoreline. We stopped at an iron filigree table. He smiled. “Wait here. I’ll bring the girls to you.” He laid the mirror on the table.
I stood with my hand resting on my invention, feeling as if I were at a turning point in my life. I just didn’t know whether it was good or bad.
The Brits had disappeared. Tina stood near the railing chatting up a group of suits. A middle-aged gent was drooling over her. If he only knew that the petite ingénue was a dad with two small kids. Tina was Tony Triola, manager of Homes to Go during the week and one of the stars of Queen Kit’s drag show at the Croquet on weekends.
I scoped out the cocktailers wondering which one would be my financial angel. My shadow on the deck expanded as someone moved next to my shoulder. I turned to face a hunky-looking guy in an expensive summer-weight suit and dark sunglasses.
“You must be Zo White.” The face that owned the voice was tanned and chiseled. He took off his shades with a theatrical flourish and moved in closer. For an instant I thought he was going to kiss me. He whispered in my ear. “We’ll get together later. I’m who you’re looking for. Name’s Hunter.” He winked and sauntered away pulling out his cell phone.
His cockiness was revolting. If he didn’t look like Colin Firth, I would have forgotten him instantly. Instead I imagined what he might be like in
bed. I shook my head. I must be healing. I was starting to remember sex.
Kit walked toward me with a blond woman on one arm and a redhead on the other. “Zo White, let me present Wendy Darlin and Alice Hart.” He scooted the ladies in position on either side of me. Our host looked like a proud father with his little chicks arranged in a row. “Now three of my very best friends are united. You girls have so much in common besides adoring me.” He grinned.
Alice was fizzy energy like a shaken soda bottle. “Zo! Congrats! This is so exciting. I can’t wait to see your invention. Kit says it’s a magic mirror? How does it work?”
Kit kissed the top of Alice’s head. “Hold your rabbits! Zo’s going to show you in a proper way with gobs of suspense first.” He gave me a quick squeeze. “You’re in good hands. Now I must butter my guests. Enjoy!” He strutted toward the covered bar.
“Look at you blushing!” Wendy said to Alice. “If Kit weren’t gay and you weren’t such an anglophile…”
Alice huffed. “You’re one to talk. You have a thing for the Brits yourself.”
Wendy laughed. “Don’t go giving away my story just because your goose was almost cooked by a British dude.” She shook her head and turned toward me, her blonde hair swishing in the breeze. “Her story would scare the pants off you.”
“No more Brits. I’m going cold-turkey,” Alice said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She met a charming Englishman over the internet,” Wendy said, rolling her eyes.
“He appeared successful, single, and kind. I joined him on a European holiday five countries in four days,” Alice said.
“He forgot to tell her he was on the run.” Wendy grinned displaying dimples so deep they probably met in her mouth. “Alice leads a life of glorious nonsense.”
Alice took a long sip on her white wine, “Now who’s giving away whose story? But I will tell you that things went downhill when I found a beheaded gangster. I’m sure the corpse was germy. Ick!” She shuddered. “I’d probably do it all again, but this time I’d carry a gun.”
Wendy choked on her drink spraying Margarita on Alice. “Now that’s a scary thought, you packing a Glock.” Wendy shook her head and arched her eyebrows at me. “A true klutz.”
Alice blotted her face with a napkin and growled at Wendy. “Do you blame me? You know I was almost killed more than once. Not to mention a judge who deserves a good scare… or more.”
Wendy dabbed the last drops from Alice’s face. “That was a sprinkle of booze for luck so you never have to go back to court.”
Alice lowered her voice. “It’s not like you don’t have problems, Wendy.”
Wendy scanned the crowd then whispered, “I can’t bear to get my kisser wet. Once you have a phobia karmic forces align to kick you in the nuts. Well, not the nuts but you get my drift.”
A waiter floated by with a tray of filled champagne flutes. I grabbed one, certain I’d need it to get me through Alice and Wendy’s act.
“I’m sure Zo gets your drift,” Alice said. “Wendy has a fear of water. So, of course, she was held hostage in the Caribbean on a super-yacht. Not to mention her friend was murdered, her ex-husband turned into a loopy pirate, and she had to eat stewed squirrel-”
Wendy cut her off.”We’ll save my fractured fairy tale for another day.” She ran her tongue along the rim of her glass. “I can never resist the taste of salt.”
“How do you know Kit?” Alice asked.
“I’ve known him for years but what with traveling with a circus I haven’t been in touch… until recently.”
Alice got that childlike look of awe on her face. I’d seen it so many times. “What did you do in the circus?”
“I danced on the Silks.”
She blinked her big green eyes. “You were one of those acrobats who slide up and down on those ginormous silk sheets? I saw a performance once in London.
“How did you start doing that?” Wendy asked.
“When I was a kid, I was obsessed with flying. There wasn’t a height too high for me to attempt flight. One day I leaped off the second story balcony at my grandmother’s house. When I was released from the hospital, my parents enrolled me in gymnastics. They figured if I had some landing techniques, I might make it to the age of ten. My class went to the circus for graduation. That’s when I saw my first Silk dancer. My destiny flashed before my eyes.”
“Do you still perform? I’d love to see your act,” Alice said.
“Last month I fell and landed on my head. A friend was killed in the accident.”
Wendy looked me up and down. “Do you have any permanent injuries?”
“My memory is hazy. I get headaches and vertigo. But everyday I’m a bit better.”
“I hope you got a settlement. How do you support yourself?” Alice asked.
“You are a nosey thing,” Wendy elbowed her friend.
“That’s why my best eBook category is Women Sleuths,” Alice said.
“Mine, too. What’s yours, Zo?”
“I don’t have a category yet. Women Sleuths, huh? Kit said you were both Comedy.”
“Depends on your sense of humor,” Alice said. “We’re Pythonesque,” They linked arms and did a ruby slipper skip. I found myself laughing.
“You might be Comedy,” Alice said.
“Well, my sense of humor remains intact. It has to what with living with seven men.”
“You live with seven men?” they asked in unison.
“Are they gay?” Wendy prodded.
“No. They’re performers in a group. I keep house for them in return for room and board. I’m also the head turtle wrangler at the Biscayne Turtle Sanctuary.”
“Oh… I love turtles. Baby turtles are so darn cute!” Alice said.
“Please visit us. I have over five hundred turtles at the Sanctuary. They’re turtles that can’t be released back into the Everglades. The park is overrun with pythons and other predators. The poor little turtles need safe homes. I find zoos and parks willing to take my little guys.”
“Tell us something about the mirror,” Alice said.
I checked over my shoulder to be sure I wasn’t being overheard. “My dad was a bit of a geek always inventing things that never paid off. I think I follow in his footsteps. I keep hoping the next invention will be the one to make my fortune and help mankind.”
Wendy grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter and switched my empty for a full. “Continue,” she said.
“I’ve created some real disasters like transparent slippers. I had no idea the polymer I used for the slippers would expand with body heat. The shoes fell off my client’s feet within thirty minutes which sounds funny except the client was some mobster princess at her engagement ball. Her father tried to lynch me.”
I swigged my champagne. “Then I invented a harp that played itself. The demo model got stuck on one song, that mindless ditty about a small world. It refused to play anything else. I finally stomped it to bits putting it out of its misery.”
Alice and Wendy laughed out loud.
“I hope I finally nailed a winner with the mirror.”
The scrawny tranny with the hairy legs slipped into my peripheral vision. My instincts told me to cool it. I picked up the mirror, clutched it to chest, and shut my mouth.
The odd couple strolled past.
“Wendy, see those two dolts?” I said.
“The hairy-legged tranny and the priest? Whoa! I know those skinny legs. They stalked me in London. That’s Algy Green and Nobby Seemore.”
“They were talking about you when I was waiting for the limo.”
Wendy shook her head in disgust. “They must have followed me from England. I’m a part-time tomb raider. I do it for extra income while real estate is in the slumps. Those two buffoons tried to steal some of the antiquities I recovered. They’d grab the fillings from their mothers’ teeth if they could. And who’s that suit by the bar giving us the laser eye?”
I turned my he
ad to see who she was talking about. “His name’s Hunter. I think he came on to me before, but I’m not sure. I’d watch him if I were us.”
“He look like a shifty Colin Firth,” Alice said.
“That’s an oxymoron. Colin Firth is a cocker spaniel. He could never look shifty,” Wendy lifted her glass and we brought ours to clink in a mock salute to Mr. Firth.
“I’m guessing that Hunter guy suffers from peotillomania. You can tell by his eyes,” Alice said.
“I hesitate to ask… what is peotillomania?” I could hardly pronounce it.
“It’s an abnormal compulsion to pull on his penis,” Alice answered very straight-faced.
The Colin Firth look-alike ambled over, a martini in his hand. He stood next to me in a possessive way radiating snobby vibes. Extending his hand first to Wendy and then Alice he said, “Hunter Heart.”
Alice shot him a surprised look. “Heart? How do you spell that?”
“Just like it sounds… like a bloody, beating heart.”
I noticed Alice’s wine glass shake but to her credit she stood toe to toe with him. “Just curious. My last name is Harte. Spelled HARTE.”
“Fascinating.” He turned his back to her.
Alice rolled her eyes, “Definitely peotillo.”
Wendy chuckled.
Again, Hunter bent and whispered in my ear, “You young lady are on my short list of the most interesting people at this little gathering. I’ll be in touch.”
Before I could say don’t bother, he’d strolled away.
Wendy shrugged. “I can’t resist a true ass. Let’s see if I can provoke him.” She slinked after Hunter.
Alice headed to the bar. “Be right back. Gotta get one of those twisty straw drinks.”
I watched them head off. It was fun hanging out with them. As much as I loved my seven roommates, it was nice to have girl time.
