by C. J. Anaya
His chuckles drifted through the door, making her both annoyed and slightly amused at his reaction.
“I’m going to grab one of the staff to get you out of here,” he shouted. “Oh, wait. Excuse me, do you have a key to this room? My girlfriend got herself locked in there.”
Girlfriend? Over my dead body.
The door abruptly opened, and Brody stood with his arms held out, fully expecting her to rush into them. “Consider yourself rescued, young lady. I believe your hero deserves an appreciative kiss.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him, taking note of the cameraman standing behind Brody.
“Is that so? Then I suppose it would be unthinkable to deny my rescuer his just rewards.” She turned to the male nurse with keys dangling from his hands. Grabbing his face, she planted a soft lingering kiss on his lips and then stepped back. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for unlocking and then opening such a heavy, unmanageable door.”
The young man gave her a shocked look and then his lips broke into a delighted smile, lighting up the light blue of his eyes.
“If there are more of you ladies locked in storage closets, I vow to never take a sick day ever again.”
Midge gave him a sweet smile, reversed her look and smirked at Brody, then stepped past all three men and headed toward the next room. She paused long enough to look back at Brody and take in his annoyed grimace, the chuckling cameraman, and the smitten male nurse.
“Are you coming, Mr. Prescott?”
Then she sailed into the room, ready to visit her first child of the day.
Ah, sweet victory. How I’ve missed you.
“What is your favorite fairy tale?” Midge asked. “Perhaps I can read it to you.” She was seated on a chair near the bed of an eleven-year-old girl named Claire. Claire had several books at her disposal, a collection of fairy tales that every child had been given, donated by none other than Brody Prescott. His charity work was just one more item that made him difficult to resist.
The young girl’s hazel eyes sparkled at the question. She pointed to a large picture hanging on the wall across the room. Midge turned and studied the child-like rendition of a prince chasing a young princess dressed in blue down a long staircase. At the bottom of the step a glass slipper stood waiting to be discovered.
“Cinderella?”
Claire nodded her head, but leaned close to her as if to whisper something desperately important.
“It’s a Cinderella fairy tale about you. I saw your kiss with Mr. Prescott on the internet. It was really romantic.”
“Oh!” Midge’s face took on a whole new shade of scarlet. “Well, I can certainly read Cinderella to you if you’d like.”
Claire had lost her hair long ago due to ongoing chemo treatments and her skin was pale and translucent, but the beauty of her face and the sweet hope tucked within her expression gave her a courageous appearance. That courage, seemingly misplaced in her current circumstances gave Midge the desire to pull her close and hold her for as long as time might permit. Perhaps that wonderful fortitude would rub off on Midge and see her through something a million times less daunting than the ravaging affects of cancer. It certainly humbled her to be in Claire’s presence.
“Can you pretend to be Cinderella instead?”
Midge didn’t know quite how to respond to that.
“If she gets to play Cinderella can I be the prince?” a gruff voice asked.
Midge glanced up as Brody strode into the room with a cheeky grin.
Claire clapped her hands in delight. “Yes. That’s what I want. You’re the handsome prince who sweeps her off her feet.”
“Well,” Midge still hesitated, uncertain as to how this should play out. “Do you want me to read Cinderella’s part and Brody can read Prince Charming’s?”
“Give me the book, and I can narrate. Then you two act out everything I say.”
She had a very bad feeling about this, but one look at the excited expression on Claire’s face was enough for Midge to agree to anything so long as it brought Claire the happiness she deserved.
“All right then. I think Brody and I can act out a scene or two.” She stood up and walked to the middle of the room. “Do you think Mr. Prescott’s acting skills will be up to par?” she asked Claire in a teasing tone.
“You two won’t be acting at all since you totally love each other already.” Claire’s pronouncement had Midge raising two bemused eyebrows while Brody let out a hearty chuckle.
“I do believe the young lady has a point, Madelyn…darling.”
Claire let out an infectious giggle, and Midge shook her head at the term of endearment he threw in, finding it difficult to stay cross with him for taking advantage of a situation that was clearly making Claire’s day. She figured he hadn’t finished paying her back for the prank she’d pulled on him.
“Once upon a time,” Claire began, “there was a girl who lost her mother at a young age. The loss left Cinderella and her father completely devastated.” Claire continued the narrative giving Midge instructions to kneel in grief at the side of her bed.
“Like this?” Midge asked.
“Yes, but you should be crying. You just lost your mom, silly.”
“Oh.” Midge let out a few soft wails and sniffed, wiping away imaginary tears.
“Seriously? It’s your mom we’re talking about. This isn’t even believable. A little more crying would be nice. You’re devastated, remember?”
Midge let out a few more high pitched wails and threw herself across the foot of the bed, adding a few sniffs and hiccups in for good measure.
“So much better,” Claire said, patting her head.
“Glad you approve.” Midge peeked up at Brody when she heard a muffled chuckle. His eyes danced in merriment.
“Cinderella’s father decided it would be best to remarry, but the woman he chose was cruel in spirit and cold at heart, and her daughters followed in her footsteps.” Claire set the book down, and gave them both a disgruntled look. “Such a bad idea. You have to wonder if he married the first desperate widow he came across. You’d think he would have done a background check or something.”
Midge buried her face in the covers so as not to laugh while Claire continued her narrative.
“Within months of marriage the father passed away—probably poisoned by his psycho wife.”
Midge’s head shot up. “Does it actually say that in the book?”
“Of course not, but it doesn’t take a detective to figure that one out.”
It was Brody’s turn to stifle a laugh.
“Cinderella was put to work as a slave in her own home…blah blah blah…” Claire flipped the pages and scanned them before stopping at a page and slamming her finger into it.
“While she spent her days cleaning, she grew beautiful of form and face, but most importantly she was kind and loving to everyone she knew. She also had the loveliest singing voice and always sang while she cleaned.” Claire grabbed Midge’s arm. “Okay, now you have to sweep the floor and sing “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes.”
Midge gave her a suspicious look as she stood and then pretended to sweep the floor. “Isn’t that Disney’s version of Cinderella? I don’t think that song is in your book.”
“If Claire says it’s in the book then we best comply with her wishes, don’t you think?” Brody’s smile was all innocence.
Midge glanced at Claire and noticed the exuberant way she clasped her hands to her heart, a sweet dimple gracing her cheek as she smiled.
Cheese and crackers!
She continued sweeping while she sang her own rendition of the song. After finishing up the last chords she took a sweeping curtsy while Claire and Brody applauded her performance.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Brody said. His appreciative glance was difficult to ignore.
“Hush Charming. It’s not your turn to talk yet.” Claire flipped through her pages a little more while Brody mimed the process of zipping his lips shut.
“Cinderella wants to go to the ball…her stupid step-mom won’t let her…fairy godmother comes…here is the dress…okay, now she is at the ball. Charming, you’re going to see her and fall madly in love with her. Then you ask her to dance.”
Brody paused for a moment to take in Midge, his eyes widened in feigned surprised and then he dramatically raised his fist to his chest. Rushing over he grabbed both of Midge’s hands in his and brought them to his lips while Claire let out a few more giggles.
“I’m madly in love with you which means you have to dance with me.”
“No! No!” Claire shouted between fits of laughter. “That was terrible. You can’t tell her you’re madly in love with her before she even knows you. Do you want to freak her out?”
“I thought that in fairy tales everyone falls in love at first sight.”
“Get to know her first or she’ll think you’re a psycho.”
Midge let out a bark of laughter at that. “Oh, believe me, this type of approach is normal for our dear Prince Charming.”
“You wound me, madam.” He raised another fist to his chest and staggered back as if someone had stabbed him.
“Take it from the top, and this time try to be smooth instead of lame.”
Brody pretended to be offended at Claire’s assessment of his acting skills. He marched back a few steps, turned around and then began the whole thing all over again. This time he left out his declaration of love.
“I’m convinced that there is no one else at this ball lovelier than you, miss. Would you honor me with a dance?”
“Oh, that was much better,” Claire said.
“I would be delighted.” Midge allowed Brody to lead her into a waltz while Claire hummed “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes.”
“And whom do I have the pleasure of dancing with?”
“I am called Cinderella.”
“What a lovely name. Most people refer to me as—”
“No. She’s not supposed to know you’re the prince until the end.” Claire said.
“How is she supposed to fall in love with me if she doesn’t know who I am?” he challenged.
“With true love’s first kiss, silly. Haven’t you ever read the book? Cinderella, you have to tell him that it’s time for you to go.”
Midge placed the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed, “I’m afraid I must leave you now. My feet are killing me, and I haven’t had a thing to eat.”
“That’s not at all how the story goes,” Brody said.
“It makes sense, though,” Claire said. “I mean, the prince dances with her the whole time and never once does he offer her food or a chance to rest.” She picked up the book and flipped through a few pages, shaking her head in disgust. “He doesn’t even offer to go get her some punch. Rude much?”
“Actually, our handsome prince did give me a granola bar on the way over here.” Midge pulled it out and opened it, taking a quick bite and closing her eyes to savor it.
“You’ve totally redeemed yourself, fair prince.” Claire clapped her hands in approval.
“You still haven’t eaten that thing? We’ve been here for nearly an hour.”
“I was getting stitches. I can’t eat while someone is sticking a needle and thread in my hand.”
“Nauseating,” Claire said in agreement.
“Totally.” Midge turned back to Brody. “Now that I’ve had a bite of my snack I think I would like some punch.”
“Are you serious?” Brody asked.
“You heard the woman. I have some water in this pitcher over here.” Claire indicated the small pitcher and glass that appeared to be unused.
“Your wish is my command, fair maiden.”
Brody dashed to the pitcher, poured the water, and rushed to her side. Midge delicately sipped the water—making sure to lift her pinky finger in the process—and then set it down on the nearest table.
“I do believe it is time for me to leave before I turn into a pumpkin.”
“This is not at all how the scene plays out in the book…or any of the movies for that matter,” Claire complained. “Cinderella needs to rush to the door, and then Charming has to chase after her, stopping her before she is able to escape.”
“I’m pretty sure she gets away in the books,” Midge said.
Claire thumbed through the pages and looked up. “Not in my book.”
“Fine.” Midge did her best to run in a feminine way towards the door as Brody moved after her. Just as she placed her hand on the door knob she felt Brody grab her around the waist and spin her to face him.
“You’ll not get away from me, Cinderella. There are still two waltzes, an ‘Electric Slide’, and ‘The Macarena’ to contend with. Not to mention a possible encore of ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe’.”
“Totally off script, but I’ll allow it,” Claire said. “Now Cinderella has to protest that she must leave.”
“If you don’t allow me to leave your little island post haste I’ll be forced to do something absolutely horrific, and if you think food coloring is bad you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Claire grunted in frustration. “You guys are terrible at ad libbing. Prince Charming, how are you going to respond to that?”
“There isn’t a single thing you could threaten me with that would scare me more than the thought of you permanently walking out of my life.”
“Wow. That’ll do. Cinderella, you should definitely be swooning by now, but fighting super hard to resist his charms even though we all know it’s totally a lost cause. You’ve already fallen for him.”
Midge didn’t like how her words hit so close to the truth, but seeing as how she had no way out of her current predicament she continued to play her part to perfection.
“You couldn’t possibly want me to join this world of yours. I’m just a college student with lofty goals that have yet to come to fruition. I wouldn’t fit in with you royals.”
She’d planned on saying something along the lines of being home by midnight and then that came out. What in the world was wrong with her? Brody’s playful expression grew serious as he moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her to him.
“You’re not new to this high class scene, nor are you someone who is terribly impressed by it. You’re kind, honest, ambitious, selfless, funny, and you genuinely care about other people. I love life when I’m living it with you. I don’t want you to go. Please stay.”
Midge swallowed hard. “You could have anyone at the ball. I can’t believe you would want me. At least, not for the right reasons.”
“Believe it, Madelyn. Believe that my reasons are always right where you’re concerned.”
Midge had no idea what to say to that. She wanted so badly to believe him. To believe that his motives were pure, but she remembered what she overheard, and didn’t know how to reconcile these two opposing ideas. Just as she was about to throw caution to the wind, and allow herself to place her faith in the affection Brody offered she heard a slight whirring noise to her right. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the crewman manning the camera through a connecting door. She had no idea how long he had been there, but she figured it had been from the moment Brody entered the room.
Her heart nearly broke as she realized that this had all been a show. Of course, it had started out as merely make believe, a way to entertain a young girl who wholly deserved something fun and meaningful to lift her spirits and lighten her load, but it had taken such a serious and personal turn. Yet the farce had never ended, she simply hadn’t been able to separate fiction from reality.
“Now you kiss her, Charming,” Claire said in a hushed voice.
Midge’s eyes widened at this, knowing full well that there was absolutely no way she could deny Brody a kiss when Claire asked for it as part of her own Cinderella recreation.
Brody definitely didn’t hesitate as he dipped his head and brought his lips against hers. She intended for it to be a short, light kiss on the lips, but Brody had othe
r ideas. He pulled her flush against him and deepened their kiss, demanding more than she had planned to give and completely bypassing any of her mental resistance as the heat of his mouth on hers and the possessive power of his arms took swoon-worthy to a whole new level. With her thoughts on stand-by and her lips fully participating in the rhythm and cadence of his affections she wholly lost herself to Brody Prescott, completely forgetting the reasons against such a compromising situation and only recognizing everything that made her all for it.
He finally ended the kiss with a soft sigh and moved back to study her face, possibly gaging her reaction.
“That was pure perfection. Just as good as the kiss on YouTube,” Claire declared.
“So glad the reenactment was a success,” Midge said in a breathy voice. She pulled herself out of Brody’s embrace and walked over to Claire completely ignoring the rolling camera in the process. She bent down to give Claire a hug and then reached for another book.
“How about we tackle The Princess and The Frog, and this time I’ll read it to you?”
“Oh, I love that fairy tale.”
Midge snuggled close to Claire and began reading the book. It was the best distraction she could find under the circumstances, and part of the reason she was there in the first place. As she continued to entertain Claire with her best impression of a frog prince she felt the heat of Brody’s gaze on her. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and leaned close to her to see the pictures.
When he lightly wrapped his arm around her shoulder she nearly lost track of where she’d been reading, but quickly recovered when Claire made a comment about the slimy consistency of a frog’s skin, and seriously who would ever want to kiss that?
Despite Brody’s distracting presence, Midge felt more content than she had in a very long time. Without realizing what she was doing, she gently laid her head against his shoulder and continued reading the fairy tale.
Disaster!
That’s the word that continued to repeat itself in Midge’s mind as she finished her shower, toweled off, and dressed in some comfortable jeans and an American Eagle tee.
