Page 241 of Naughty Nelle

“Those are MINE!” shrieks Marcella. “I saw them first.” Do something!” she yells at me.

I’m clueless. What exactly does she want me to do? Tackle the woman? And then I gasp.

Her Royal Skankiness charges at the buxom woman and slams her to the ground. She grabs for the shoes, but her opponent refuses to let them go and kicks Marcella smack in the groin. Marcella kicks her right back, catching her heel in the folds of the woman’s jutting stomach.

Holy crap! I don’t believe this—a shoe fight! Marcella and the older woman are at each other like two fire-farting dragons. Clawing! Biting! Hissing! Kicking! The ruby slippers go back and forth between them, like a pair of hot potatoes. Elz bravely tries to break the twosome up, but Marcella won’t stand for it. Dodging a punch in the gut, Elz finally gives up.

The other royal customers crowd around the dueling divas and cheer them on. This is insane! The battle rages on in the buxom woman’s favor. But right when she thinks she’s got the shoes tucked safely in the thick fold of her cleavage, Marcella lunges at her and tears her gown down the middle. The spectators let out a loud “ooh.” I’m not sure if they’re appalled or amused. Pouring out of her corset, Marcella’s opponent is one overstuffed pastry puff. As she fumbles to cover herself up, Marcella snatches the shoes.

“Bitch!” roars the woman. “You can have them!” The crowd gasps.

“Bigger bitch!” retorts Marcella, clutching the ruby shoes.

Her opponent turns crimson. The crowd gasps louder.

“Awf…awf…awf.” The woman blows out short puffs of air, as though she’s trying to calm herself down.

Not bothering to try on the shoes, Marcella triumphantly tells Elz she’ll take them. “You know what they say. If the shoe fits, buy it.”

Holding the edges of her torn gown together, Marcella’s defeated opponent marches out the door. Her body jiggles with rage.

I think Elz just lost a customer. Her hands shake as she rings up Marcella’s trophy shoes.

“Wrap them up with the others and send the bill to The Prince,” orders Marcella. “And don’t forget the discount you promised.”

That’s my discount, skankface! Don’t I get a thank you?

Elz shoots me a look that wavers between deep compassion and utter disgust. “I’ll have them delivered to your coach,” she says, sparing me the job of having to lug them myself.

It takes an army of elves to carry the glass-encased shoes out the door. Marcella fluffs her brassy hair and refreshes her makeup.

“Let’s go!” She snaps her fingers at me.

Finally! We’re done with shoe shopping.

The PIW yanks me out the door, leaving me no time to say good-bye to Elz. Schlepping her boatload of bags, I follow Her Royal Skankiness back to the valet. Our coach pulls up, and I let our poor soon-to-be fired driver help me load the bags into the shoe-filled carriage. Wait! One’s missing. The bag with the golden goose. Calla’s doll! I must have left it at The Glass Slipper. Panic grips me.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Marcella, without any explanation.

“Make it fast!” Thankfully, she’s still in a pretty good mood from shopping.

I tear through the mall. My heart races. I hope no one’s taken the doll.

I fly into The Glass Slipper. Oh no! The bag with the doll is gone! My heart sinks.

“Looking for this?” Out comes Elz from the stock room, with the bag in her hand.

“You’re a lifesaver!” I give her a huge hug.

As I turn to leave, my eyes are drawn to a pair of shoes. They’re black and shiny with six-inch high spiky heels. I cradle them in my hand. They’re wickedly beautiful. I even love the little bow near the pointy toe.

“They’re part of my new Fall Stiletto Collection,” beams Elz.

I continue to admire the shoes, imagining what they’d look like on my feet.

“Try them on, Jane,” insists Elz. “They’re calling your name.”

Talking mirrors. And now talking shoes. I’ve spent way too much time at the mall. Besides, though I happen to be a sample Size 6, I don’t think any pair of shoes would fit my tired, swollen feet.

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