Page 2 of The Cinderella Prince

The grin I put on as soon as I spotted her was wiped away when I realized that mascara was running down her face. Glancing once to my left where the traffic was coming from on Charles Street, I crossed in a hurry. “Mama Viv?”

“…ordered them seven days ago and called yesterday to confirm the delivery time,” Mama Viv cried into the phone, her other hand trembling. “What do you mean it was misplaced? Well, how soon can you have it? You do have it? Then what on Earth is the problem?” With a dramatic wave of her free hand, Mama Viv looked at me. She blinked softly as if to signal that everything was alright, but her eyes glimmered with more unspilled tears. “My brunch is starting in two hours. I absolutely cannot welcome guests without them. Will you and will you not deliver these goddamn cupcakes?” Her lower lip quivered. “I see.” Mama Viv looked at the screen of her phone, then tapped the red button several times until the call disconnected. “Oh, what a rude man,” she said as she leaned over with one arm over my shoulders, hugging me. “Good morning, darling.”

“What’s up?” I cut to the chase.

“Just the cupcakes for the bar, darling. Their deliverygirl is overbooked and won’t be able to bring them. I don’t know what to do.” Mama Viv spotted someone behind me and lit up a little. “Hello, Zain,” she said. “Just put them over there, darling. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Hello” was all the reply, spoken in a quiet, timid tone. I glanced at Zain, floppy black hair falling over his brow, big brown eyes looking away from me. He carried two carts of fresh produce from his father’s little store on the edge of the neighborhood. Zain showed up here every morning with fresh fruits and vegetables for Mama Vivien’s snacks, brunches, and burgers, but I never saw him around other than that. He was of average height, skinny, and unmistakably pretty. Dropping off the carts, he handed Mama Viv a paper to sign, then waved shyly and disappeared.

“That is how it should be done,” Mama Viv exclaimed. “See that?”

“He’s very reliable,” I agreed. “What’s with the cupcakes?”

“It’s a disaster, darling,” Mama Viv spoke as she picked up one of the carts. It only contained lettuce, but the nails still got in the way.

“Let me,” I said firmly enough for Mama Viv to obey. She held the door open while I picked up the carts and carried them through. There were many, many days when I did odd shifts at Neon Nights when I needed extra cash and Mama Viv needed helping hands. Roman, on the other hand, practically worked here, even if his arrangement was as noncommittal as mine. “I can’t be tied to one place,” he always said.

Inside Neon Nights, the preparations were underway. Though it had been open for an hour already, the fewguests having their coffee were unbothered by the two guys and a girl decorating the place for brunch. The interior was much dimmer than the outside; all the windows facing the street were small and cluttered with decorative stuff. Wooden tables and mismatched chairs were scattered around, and the door leading to the private terrace tucked between buildings was wide open. Servers hurried back and forth. I could see that there weren’t any spare hands to deal with the cupcake debacle. “Why don’t I pick up the cupcakes, Mama Viv?”

Our matron’s eyes grew big with gratitude and relief. “You’d do that?” Mama Viv asked, one hand on her fake large breasts. “Darling, you would save the brunch.”

“Of course I’ll go,” I said. I hadn’t exactly had big plans for the day. Besides, it might earn me a free drink tonight at the party. I carried the carts into the busy kitchen, dropped them off, and got a big hug from our favorite queen of drag. Mama Viv ushered me out and handed me the car keys. It was an old Toyota parked in the alley on the other side of Neon Nights, which I knew well since I ran errands for Mama Viv often enough.

She gave me the address of a pastry shop in the Bronx and assured me it was already paid for. “I will call that horrible man and tell him to expect you. Oh, and darling, are you joining us for the quiz at three?”

“I keep telling you, Mama Viv, I’m not a Tina Turner fan,” I said with my best grin.

Mama Viv waved that off as irrelevant. “Everyone’s a Tina Turner fan. They just don’t know it yet.”

I was still chuckling when I started the engine and forgot all about my morning plans.

Cedric

I cursed the morning for sneaking up on me. As if jet lag hadn’t kicked me hard enough, my first night here was plagued by dreams of running down endless hallways, picking doors at random, and finding myself in identical corridors once again. It was a maze of my own making and very fitting, if I may say so.

The ghastly single bed had not been my friend, either. Its frame creaked every time I turned, and the coarse fabric of the pillowcase that had been washed but not softened had irritated my face enough to wake me up in the middle of the night. That and the nightmares.

I got up, my lower back protesting, my eyelids drooping. I dreaded the mirror, so I avoided looking at it. This small room on the seventh floor was the only place I could find on such short notice without attracting attention.Do not be seen. Do not be recognized. And whatever you do, don’t let them know where you are. I repeated the mantra I had been reciting to myself for the past seven days. At face value, this room had appeared perfect for my very specific set of needs and circumstances, but I had overrated my ability to adjust.

Maybe Alexander was right. Maybe I was meant for my life exactly as it had been going. That thought was sour enough to make me double desperate to brush my teeth. I hadn’t exactly traveled with a valet to account for all my needs, but it seemed, upon the inspection of the smallbathroom, that the staff of this establishment had predicted some of those needs. A toothbrush was packed into a plastic wrapper and left on the narrow shelf above the sink. This mirror was unavoidable, and my weary, exhaustion-reddened eyes gazed back at me. They were normally blue, but the days of traveling without being noticed had faded away some of their brightness.

I unwrapped the toothbrush, wondering if the plastic would snap in my grip. The miniature tube left next to the toothbrush, white with plain black letters, must have been toothpaste, but its flavor couldn’t prove it in a court of law. I gagged and spat out the white paste, washed my mouth, and splashed my face. Water drops sprayed my neck and bare chest. The bathroom’s single overhead light was yellow and weak, the dark brown tiles doing the interior no favors, and the showerhead poking from the wall was as inviting as a bucket in an alley would have been. There was no separation between the shower and the rest of the bathroom. Not even a sheet of glass. Not even a curtain.

I sniffed my armpits and decided it was acceptable until I found someplace with a tad more room. I wasn’t entertaining any thoughts of sleeping at the Orbit or any such establishment. I had withdrawn enough cash to last me until I figured out my next move, but I had done that before my flight, muddling the trail for my family and their snoopy spies.

Running my wet fingers through my wild blond hair, I decided not to bother with it. Besides, a perfect haircut would only make it easier for someone to recognize me. As if the airport employees in Amsterdam hadn’t made enoughfuss over me, I didn’t need the locals in New York to catch my scent.

I stepped out of the bathroom and rummaged through my tiny suitcase. I had left my apartments back home in haste.Not back home, I reminded myself.That can’t be your home anymore. My gut twisted, but I kept on searching for something to wear. Everything was a little wrinkled, but I doubted this place offered more than an ancient iron filled with glowing coal. And even if it did, ironing had never been deemed important enough for my handlers to teach me.

I gritted my teeth and settled on a somewhat wrinkled light cream shirt and a pair of universal black pants. I needed to shop for clothes, but I didn’t want to spend my money fast. Every time I used an ATM, I set off a beacon for Alexander to find me and bring me to heel. His last message before switching my phone off still burned before my eyes whenever I let myself be foolish enough to close them.

You’re acting like a petulant boy. Better return of your own free will, else I will be compelled to handle this matter myself. This is not the end of the world.

I had been sorely tempted to text back, telling him that he was welcome to take my place if he found this situation so light and inconsequential. But that was what Alexander had been hoping for, so I resisted the urge. Instead, I walked around with a dead phone, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t trace me to a run-down room in Greenwich Village overlooking the Hudson River.

I shut the door on my way out, causing a cloud of dust to envelop me. Coughing, I waited for the elevator, thenstrolled out onto the street. The August sun scorched the streets here far more than it did back home on most days. My home… Myformerhome, if I had any say in my life, was tucked between France and Germany and the countries of the Benelux, a slice of land that had stood strong for centuries, never changing, never moving forward really, and never dropping some of its sillier traditions, one of which plagued me more than most these days.

This was not a glamorous neighborhood. It was hardly beautiful in the traditional sense. It wasn’t new, it wasn’t even particularly clean, and it wasn’t invested in by the developers that had taken New York into the clouds. Its grunge aesthetic and slightly aged architecture paired perfectly with the colorful people that populated the streets. Graffiti ranged from hateful scrawls, few as they were, to breathtaking portraits and landscapes, to street artists’ signatures without any meaning attached to them. Where it lacked refinements, uniqueness made up for it. Where it seemed run-down, soul and charm gave it life. The peeling facade of one building was hidden by a mural of a grassy field, the windows of another were bright pink, and a row of windows of one fairly low, old structure displayed rainbow flags and, pointedly, a bunch of wedding cake figurines, all depicting two men or two women or couples whose distinguishing features made it impossible to assume the gender. I gazed at one figurine couple wearing tuxedos that extended into broad gowns and couldn’t stop my lips from twitching into a smile.

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