"Myrtle, as a godmother, have you ever done something for a godchild, something they weren't too pleased about, but something you knew would make them happy in the end?"
"Fiona, don't you dare—"
"But have you?"
When Myrtle didn't respond, Fiona said, “You know I'm new at this, and I really could use your advice. Did you ever do something for a godchild that they didn't think they wanted, but you knew would work out for them in the end?"
"Yes,” she admitted.
She thought of the Aaronsons.
Why, they'd sent Grace running to Max, thinking she was crazy. They'd sent Joy to live with Gabriel, a man who thought she was comfortable and what woman wanted the man she adored to think she was comfortable?
And Glory?
Why they'd seen to it that she was the owner of one rather broken-down restaurant, and they had put her in the vicinity of Nick, a lawyer. Glory had had a bias against lawyers back then.
No, none of them were particularly happy about what the fairies did for them ... to them.
"But, just because we've done it in the past, doesn't mean you need to do it now.” Myrtle eyed Fiona who was looking far too pleased with herself. “I mean it, Fiona. I don't want you meddling with my life."
"Ah, but I'm your fairy godmother. Meddling is in my job description."
"Fiona...” Myrtle said in her most intimidating voice.
"Sorry, Myrtle. I let you mope around for a week, but it's time to do something drastic. Something that will prove to the Council that I'm a godmother prodigy. If they're not convinced, I might have the shortest godmothership in the history of fairies."
"You're using me to ensure job security?” Myrtle looked offended. “Call it off."
"I'm sorry, Myrtle, but it's too late."
"When will it happen?"
"Not today, but soon. Enjoy your peaceful, quiet day,” Fiona said, fading out of sight.
Myrtle thought she heard her add, "It might be the last one you have for sometime to come," but chose to ignore it.
If she couldn't be a fairy, couldn't serve some useful purpose, then she wanted to be left alone.
Whatever Fiona was planning wouldn't work if Myrtle wasn't around to have it work.
She turned and headed home. She'd simply hide out in the house.
Myrtle wasn't normally the type of fairy to hide from her problems, but this once, she was making an exception.
She wasn't going to be happy, and no fairy goddaughter turned godmother could make her be.
Chapter Eight
Blossom
Sunday night, Blossom was in front of the theater for rehearsals with ten minutes to spare.
"You're Titania. I told you that you were perfect for the part,” said a voice.
"Herbert!” She hugged the older man. “I asked about you and was so thrilled to hear that you're Theseus. I'd hoped to see you sooner."
"Rom likes running various groups through before throwing us all together."
"I'm so thrilled to finally get to meet the entire cast."
"Oh, speaking of thrilled, you should have heard the ladies at the home. They're already fighting over me. All except one.” He held open the stage door for her.
"Oh?” Blossom had been a fairy godmother for so many years that she'd picked up some radar about matters of the heart. And that radar was telling her the one who wasn't fighting was the only one Herbert wanted.
"Stella. She just laughed and said it couldn't be much of a production, if I was in it."
"That wasn't nice."
There was a group of people, but Blossom hung back, sensing Herbert needed to talk to someone.
"Stella's still rather new to the home and just a little bitter. Her family made her sell her house after she fell and broke her hip. She's getting around okay, but she's still angry at the thought of having to rely on others."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"So am I. I think, despite the fact she's slowed down a bit, she still has a lot of living left to do, but she won't see it. She sits there, day after day, saying that it's obviously all she's good for."
"Maybe we can think of something—” Blossom started to say, but was interrupted.
Rom sauntered onto the stage and hollered, “People. People."
The crowd shifted from the fringes of the stage towards Rom, making a semicircle around him.
"I'd like to congratulate all of you. I think this is going to be a fantastic rendition of Midsummer's Night ... with work. A lot of hard work. And that's just what I'm here to give you, a hard workout. I'm not here to be your friend or your buddy. I won't coddle you. I'm here to make you work harder than you've ever worked before. This last week I've run groups of you through your lines, but from now on, we'll all be here every week night from five until nine. Saturday afternoons we'll be here at one and run as long as we need to. I'll give you one hundred percent, and I'll expect you to give me the same. No excuses. No whining."
He paused and studied the group. Blossom wasn't sure what he was looking for, or if he found it, but when his eyes met hers, she thought they narrowed, as if he was thinking she was going to be the one not to live up to his ideals.
Well, she'd show him.
"Fine. Everyone grab a chair from the wings, and come up here. Today we're just reading through the entire play."
Blossom thought the practice went good—better than good—that it had gone great.
When they'd finished, and Rom said, “That's it. Not bad. Not good, but not bad. See you tomorrow. Blossom?"
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to stay.” He grimaced, as if her staying behind was not the highlight of his week. Not even mid-light.
No, his look said the prospect of her staying was definitely a black mark.
"Why?"
"Like I said when you got called back, I don't think you're really meant for this role, and though I didn't say it in front of everyone else, you're going to require extra practice. Starting tonight. I'd like you to stay and run through your scenes again."
"I wasn't any worse than anyone else,” she said.
As a matter of fact, she was better than most.
After all, she knew her lines, hadn't used the script at all, and hadn't missed one cue.
She studied the dark haired man who was still grimacing. Why, she'd like to—
"Yes, you were worse. I'm in charge, and I say you're staying. You can either say yes, or you can quit now and I'll find someone to replace you."
He'd like it if she quit.
Blossom wasn't sure what it was about her that set Rom Johnson's teeth on edge, but something certainly did. He'd be relieved if she quit. Well, Rom obviously didn't know her if he thought he could scare her away.
"Yes,” she said, through gritted teeth.
"Fine. I'll be back in a minute.” He walked off to talk to some of the other members as Blossom just stood there fuming.
Herbert approached her right after Rom left. “Would you like to walk home together, sweetheart?"
"I would. Unfortunately, I'm being kept after class."
"Why?” the old man looked puzzled.
"Rom feels I need extra work. That I'm going to have to work harder than everyone else to pull off my role."
"Why, I thought you were splendid."
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I wouldn't go as far as splendid, but I thought I did okay. Unfortunately Rom doesn't, so I'm staying. But maybe next time we can walk together?"
"I'd like that. I'll see you tomorrow then.” He started to walk away.
"Oh, Herbert?” Blossom called after him.
He turned. “Yes?"
"Maybe together we can think of something to help Stella."
She'd thought about Herbert's friend on and off throughout the rehearsal. The woman was special to him, and Herbert was special to Blossom. She needed to do something for them.
He smiled. “I'd like that, dear. I'd like Stella to be happy."
"Then
I'll think about it,” Blossom promised. “Good night."
She watched him go. Watched as everyone put away their chairs and gathered their things, as she stood to the side, waiting. She felt as if she were back in school. She, Myrtle and Fern were always in trouble for one thing or another, and it wasn't all that rare that they had to stay after. But then they'd been together.
Three against the world.
Now she was all alone.
Oh, that's what she wanted. She wanted a chance to shine on her own. But still, it would be nice to have some company. Someone to complain to about Rom, the dictator director.
"I'm back. Are you ready to get started?"
He'd startled her.
Blossom turned and forced herself to look him in the eye. She wasn't going to cower in the face of his less-than-pleasant disposition. She wasn't going to pout about the way he was unfairly singling her out. She was going to be professional.
"Yes, I'm ready. Let's just get this over with."
"Take a seat. This could take a while."
It was eerie sitting alone with Rom on the deserted stage. Blossom wished she'd suggested they practice somewhere else, in one of the smaller back rooms, maybe. But she hadn't and couldn't think of any way to rectify it now, so she read her lines, and Rom read all the rest.
"Sleep thou and I will wind thee in my arms—"
"No, no, no,” Rom—the dictator, the annoying, the nasty—yelled. “Blossom, Titania's supposed to be oozing sexuality, not laughing. She's in love with Bottom."
"He's an ass,” Blossom pointed out. “And Titania isn't really bewitched, she's just pretending to be bewitched for Oberon's sake. He'd be hurt if he thought his spell didn't work, so she pretends it does, but all the while she's laughing at him more than laughing at Bottom."
"No, she's not pretending.” He stalked up onto the stage and ran his fingers through his hair. “You can't just rewrite the story. Titania's bewitched and in love with the ass."
"You know, some of us don't have to be bewitched to know an ass when we see one."
The words slipped out before Blossom thought about it.
If it had been anyone other than Rom Johnson, she'd have hastily apologized. But she wasn't apologizing to him ... not ever. He deserved anything she dished out.
"Casting you as Titania was a mistake. You're nothing like her."
"I have to agree, dear,” a new voice said.
Titania herself was standing next to Blossom.
Dainty, voluptuous and brunette, the fairy queen was the antithesis to Blossom. She was shaking her head and tsking. “I can't believe even a mortal would think you could play me."
"Oh, no,” Blossom murmured.
"Don't worry, humans can't see me,” Titania said. “I'm just going to sit down over here at the sidelines and watch the rehearsal. Why, when I heard what Bernie had done to the three of you, I was furious. It's too bad Fairyland went democratic and I have to live by the Council's decision. I hate being just a figurehead, because if I still ruled the kingdom, I'd turn you back into a fairy this instant. But since I am bound by the Council's decisions, I'm as helpless as you are. And since you're playing me, I'll just watch and see how you're doing. Maybe I can give you pointers. Now, get that worried look off your face. You know better than any mortal that no one else can see me."
"But I can,” Blossom said.
She realized that Rom had been standing there, watching her as she listened to Titania.
"You can what?” he asked, looking confused.
Well, confused was better than arrogant, at least in Blossom's opinion.
"I can play Titania,” she said, infusing as much certainty as she could into her voice.
"I don't think so,” he muttered.
"Neither do I,” the fairy queen said.
She was about the size of a robin and perched on the top of the chair off to stage right.
"Shh,” Blossom told her.
Rom scowled. “Don't you shush me, Blossom. I'm the director. You're the one who needs to be quiet. Unless you're reading lines, be silent. You're going to need a lot of work to become a fairy."
"Less than six month's worth,” Blossom said.
Titania laughed.
Rom frowned. “Well, we don't have six months until the play opens, so you're just going to have to work hard."
"Oh, you're such a..."
Titania shook her fairy-sized finger at Blossom. “Tut, tut, tut, dear. You know the fairy rules on swearing."
"A what?” Rom asked, softly.
"An ogre,” she said. “You're an ogre, Rom Johnson."
"An ogre?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.
"Yes,” she said, nodding her head. Ogre wasn't a swear word, not really, even though everyone knew Ogres did like to swear and ... “Everyone knows that they are fairies who are so grumpy, so big, brutish and such know-it-alls that they became a distinct subspecies. That describes you to a T."
"I don't think you're going to be able to pull it off,” Titania said, grimly. “I'm a complex role to play."
"Just leave me alone,” Blossom said.
"I won't,” Rom said, a promise in his tone. “I'm going to keep after you until you have it right."
Feeling dangerous and frustrated, Blossom moved toward the edge of the stage and looked the overbearing director right in the eye. “Or else?"
"Or else, like I said before, I'll be looking for a new Titania."
"Do you think he'd consider me for the role?” the fairy queen asked. “I know I could play it perfectly."
"No,” Blossom said, answering Titania.
But Rom obviously thought she was talking to him. “Fine. Every night after practice. You and me. Alone. I'm going to work you until you'll forget you're not the real Titania. Beautiful, fair and able to read a love line to Bottom without laughing."
"Oh, my, that boy knows the real me,” Titania said, as she lounged on the chair. “Really, Blossom, I think I should assume mortal form and try out for the part myself."
"It's mine,” Blossom hissed. “Go."
The fairy queen stuck out her tongue in a very unroyallike way. “Fine. But I'll be back to see how you're doing."
* * * *
"Again."
A week hadn't mellowed Rom's personality at all. If anything it had made him more of a slave driver. A mean, horrible, slave driver. His goal was to drive Blossom insane with his unreasonable demands.
And he was succeeding.
Blossom liked to think of herself as a mellow individual, but she was feeling decidedly unmellow about Rom.
As a matter of fact, she'd spent the better part of the week fantasizing about what she'd do to him if she had her powers back.
"Blossom, I said, again."
"I know the part."
"Yes, you parrot it back just fine, but you're not feeling it. You're not Titania."
"And boy am I thankful for that. After all, who'd want to be stuck with Oberon?"
Oberon was overbearing, condescending, tyrannical. Come to think of it, he was an awful lot like Rom Johnson.
She glared at Rom. “It's not as if Oberon's anyone's idea of a prize."
And neither was Rom.
Why, she hardly noticed how dark his hair was. Or the way his eyes had a tendency to hold her gaze in an almost hypnotic way.
Hypnosis.
That was the only reason Blossom ever found herself staring at Rom. He hypnotized her. It wasn't as if she was attracted to him, or anything.
She didn't even like him.
"Oberon is Titania's lover,” he said for the thousandth time. As if she didn't know that, for some odd reason, Titania seemed to like Oberon.
Rom raked his hand through his hair. It should have given him a rumpled, mussed look, but instead, his hair just lay there, tantalizingly smooth and inviting.
"Oberon's a dork,” Blossom said.
Dork. It was a good word. Joy's stepdaughter, Sophie, had taught it to her. She was going to add,
just like you, but didn't think it was wise given the menacing scowl on Rom's face.
Sometimes silence was the better part of discretion.
"Again,” he practically growled.
"Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone and be all ways away..."
Blossom fell into the role, in a magical non-magic way.
It was these rare moments that made her forget she was human and let her believe, if only for a precious few minutes, that she was once again a fairy. For a moment, as Rom read Oberon's lines, she could almost believe she was Titania and this was Oberon, her love.
"...But first I will release the Fairy Queen ... “ he read.
Blossom reached out and caressed his cheek, and she gave herself a small shake, as if she was awakening from a dream. "My Oberon, what visions I have seen."
She studied this man. This annoying director. His hair was dark and longer than most men wore their hair. His eyes were the lightest blue, shining almost. Her finger trailed down his smooth cheek. Hard and smooth. The contrast delighted her.
"Methought I was enamored of an ass," Rom said.
Blossom dropped her hand as if it was weighted. “Pardon me?"
"The rest of your line. Blossom, you've got to pay attention. You forgot, Methought I was enamored of an ass," he repeated.
"Oh, my line."
What was going on?
Why on earth had her thoughts been so tangled up in Rom?
It must be that she was a better actress than she thought because there was no way she could be attracted to this man.
Why, after all her years as a fairy godmother, she knew that outside packages might be nice, but it was the inside that mattered. Rom had shown himself to be a tyrant with an acerbic wit. And secondly ... Well, despite her current human status, she was a fairy and would return to being a fairy in just less than six short months.
It wouldn't do to forget that. She'd seen what mixed relationships could do. Why just look at Bernie and Fiona and all the problems they had because of their mixed parentage.
No, she wasn't interested in Rom at all.
"Sorry,” she said and ran through the scene flawlessly.
"It was better,” he said. “Much better."
"Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.
Darn. She'd have preferred that he hollered at her.
Fairly Human Page 7
