by Ally Blake
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 mout
h 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.
Chapter Two
April looked up, caught the eye of a passing waiter with a small wine stain near his collar. Awww. She gave him a smile, which he returned in kind. Her inner Florence Nightingale could have a field day with him—
“No!” Hazel shot back, shooing him on.
April jumped. Florence Nightingale ducked; smart woman. “No?”
“Did I ask you to choose a boy? No, darling, I said to pick a man. A real man. One with experience, hubris, ambition, backbone, raging sex appeal.”
“Not my type,” April said, even while it took all of her willpower not to turn on her seat and see if the beast in the white shirt was still hunched dramatically over his empty glass.
“Not the point. You seem very caught up on the idea of being set up, darling. So much so I believe we should definitely revisit that later.”
April ground her teeth so hard she felt a dusting of enamel settle on her tongue.
“But for now we are concentrating on your promotion, remember?”
Touché.
“So pick a man who will challenge you. A man who will not easily be seduced by your sassy Tinker Bell appeal. You need to work at this, darling, so
when the time comes to show your boss what you are made of you will be ready for anything.” Hazel puffed up like a happy pigeon. “But first – and always – boobs out.”
April’s hands hovered near the girls, ready to defend them if necessary. “By out you mean—?”
“I’m not suggesting you bare yourself to the room, darling. I mean you should stand and walk with confidence. Holding your shoulders back. Your breasts can stay safely tucked away. For now.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“In fact, that’s excellent advice for any part of your life.”
“Tucking my breasts away?”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “Any time you are feeling less than, pull your shoulders back and you’ll feel instantly taller, more powerful, fierce. Try it.”
April tugged her shoulders back. And dang if it didn’t work! She could practically feel the energy filling the new gaps between her ribs. Less Tinker Bell, more Wonder Woman. Okay, this was getting fun. “What else?”
“Lift your chin. Catch their attention. Make eye contact and hold it. But never stare. Take a compliment as meant. Be polite but never weak. Be intelligent but never opinionated. Be so fabulous their eyes cross and their knees squeeze. And always walk away leaving them wanting more.”
April wondered where Hazel had been on the days they’d invented things such as, oh, women’s liberation.
Probably getting a manicure. Erica’s voice muttered in the back of April’s head. April’s subconscious grabbed it by scruff of the neck and lobbed it out an imaginary door.
“To my ten o’clock – a pair of men at the table in the corner have been there for about an hour now. Note the watches and shoes,” Hazel said, a smooth, encouraging voice in her ear. “The haircuts and glasses. That’s what you want, darling. A man comfortable in his own skin. Though I do wonder if they have been gazing into one another’s eyes a little too vehemently for our purposes.”
April glanced over her shoulder. It was all so mercenary.
Having turned anyway, April’s gaze swept past Hazel’s suggestions until it landed on the man sitting at the bar.
