My neck aches a little, just thinking about it.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, standing up. I know I won’t, though. I got to talk to the princess. That will have to be enough.
“Where are you going?” Mom says.
“Back. To repair shoes, like always.”
Chapter 10
“So Ryan says you came back with a face full of lipstick.”
Meg throws the word “lipstick” like it’s a stink bomb, one I know Ryan enjoyed hurling at her. She’s disgusted with me. She thinks I’m another sap under Victoriana’s spell. Maybe I am.
“So is she going to make you her boy toy or something?” Meg’s voice is like when I sliced my finger with a big sewing needle.
“I was just messing with Ryan about the lipstick,” I say, trying to sound cooler than I feel. “It was Marisol’s. I borrowed some.”
A lie can travel halfway ’round the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes. That’s been attributed to Mark Twain, but no one’s sure if he actually said it.
Meg looks pleased with my lie, in any case. We have a joint interest in keeping Ryan’s manatee-size ego in check. “So is she going to wear the shoes?”
I cradle my hand in my chin like I’m thinking, but really, I’m checking for residual lipstick. Part of me wants to tell Meg everything that happened with Victoriana. I know she’d laugh at the idea of a frog prince. She’d say Victoriana’s obviously taken too many drugs. But I promised the princess I’d keep her secret. Besides, another part of me knows Meg wouldn’t approve of the kiss.
So I say, “What do you think? I didn’t even get to talk to her. She was still passed out.”
“Typical.” I can tell Meg’s sort of happy about being right. Still, she says, “Don’t worry. You’ll find some other way to make it. You’ve got talent.”
“Yeah, talent for fixing shoes.”
“I’d wear your designs in a heartbeat.” She reaches over and begins massaging my neck. Her fingers feel strong, and it’s nice to have someone rub my neck, even if it’s just Meg.
“That feels good. My neck gets really sore, leaning over the counter all day.”
“Yeah, mine gets the same way.” She starts using both hands, rubbing my shoulders too. She smells like coffee and a little like the ocean. For a second, I close my eyes. “Ever think things happen for a reason?” she asks.
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You don’t know it at the time, but there’s some bigger purpose. Like maybe it didn’t work out with Victoriana because something else is going to happen.” She leans closer.
“I guess.”
“It’s not so awful being here, is it?”
Yes. Yes, it’s awful. But I say, “No, it’s just, she’s so beautiful.”
Meg stops rubbing my shoulders.
“Hey, why’d you stop?”
She walks away, not looking at me. “I have work to do. So do you.”
She goes back to her shop and starts rearranging the sandwiches—which already looked perfect—in their glass case. She gets so into what she’s doing that I can’t catch her eye for the rest of the afternoon. A couple of times, I think I see her glancing at me, but she looks right back down, and I wonder if she’s mad at me for saying Victoriana’s beautiful. It’s hardly news, though.
Oh, well. I’ll make it up to her. I have time now.
I start working on Victoriana’s shoe, even though I don’t want to because delivering it means telling her no, telling her I can’t do what she wants. The broken strap is delicate yet strong, and as I repair it, I anticipate seeing her again, slipping it on to her foot.
If only it wasn’t going to be the last time I see her.
Chapter 11
It is a wishing cloak. With it, you will find yourself any place you wish to be.
—“The Salad”
When I finish repairing the shoe, I call the princess’s room and ask if I can bring it up.
As expected, his answer is a curt, “Non. I will come for it.”
He’s downstairs almost as soon as I put down the phone. I recognize Bruno, the guard Victoriana said was her most trusted, the one who practically sprained a face muscle glaring at us. I hand him the shoe, then stand there, not knowing what to say next.
Bruno breaks the silence. “If you think she has a message for you, she does not. Boys like you are only playthings to Her Highness.” His English is surprisingly good, with much less of an accent than Victoriana’s. “Your dalliance means nothing. Ze princess is already betrothed.”
“Really? She doesn’t think she is.” I regret the words the second they’re out of my mouth. Why argue with him?
He scowls. “Ze princess, she is not so smart. Her head is in all kinds of places. She must be protected.”
I hear the unspoken words, from you.
I shrug. “I just wanted to give her the shoe. Now I have.”
It’s clear he wants to mess with me some more, but he must decide against it because he leaves. An hour later, one of the chambermaids drops a key card on my counter. I know without asking it’s the key to Penthouse B.
At 1:55 in the morning, I cross the lobby, hearing each squeak of my sneakers on the marble floor. It’s the perfect time. The late-night partiers have mostly come back, and the room service order cards have been picked up, but the USA Todays aren’t yet being delivered. The lobby parrot cage is covered, and the swans are asleep. The night clerk is playing an online game, and the morning maids haven’t started vacuuming. I am alone, unnoticed. The elevator rushes to the top. I feel my organs clenching against my chest. Wonder if I’ll have to knock on her door. Will the guard be waiting outside? Will he chase me off?
When the bell rings, I jump as if attacked by a cat. The elevator door begins to close before I recover, but when I push against it, it opens.
Victoriana is waiting for me when I enter. Dressed in one of the hotel’s white terry-cloth robes, her blond hair in braids that almost reach her waist, she looks like an angel from a Christmas card. She presses finger to lips and, with her other hand, takes me by the wrist. Her skin is cold, and I can tell she’s afraid, which makes me afraid too. She pulls me inside the suite. It’s pitch-dark except for one shattered sliver of moon on the oriental rug, revealing the worn, black shoes of her sleeping guard. I stay close, fearing tripping, fearing any sound, fearing everything. My breath seems loud. If they catch me, will they think I snuck in here to hurt the princess? Will they execute me?
Finally, she pulls me through the bathroom door. I stumble a bit and hear her whisper, “Fool!” under her breath. Then, she pulls the door swiftly, but quietly, shut.
The bathroom is bigger than our apartment, with a Roman tub, a bar, and three sinks. There’s even a sofa. The toilet is in a small room of its own. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Victoriana!
“You will help me, yes?” She’s smiling.
I blink and forget being called a fool. She’s beautiful. To talk to her is bliss like no bliss I’ve ever felt. I need to tell her no, but I can’t. I can’t! If I say no, the adventure will end, and I don’t want it to. “Uhhhh . . .” I gesture toward the door. “We won’t get caught?”