Page 293 of Castings & Curses

CURVY AND THE CURSED

JUDE COCAIGNE

CHAPTER1

It’s almost time.I fix my smoky make-up and messy pixie cut once more, and pull on the hem of the skirt, again. This outfit is awkward. Outrageous, some might say. It fits my plump curves well enough, and the blue of the plaited fabric complements my purple hair, but the skirt is way too short for my comfort. I mean, come on, my panties show every time I take a step. And the shirt’s buttons are barely holding together against my boobs. One wrong move and I can get arrested for flashing. The tie’s a fun touch, though. Very schoolgirl gone wrong. But I’m not sure about the heels. How am I supposed to serve properly all night long on heels like these?

I received strict instructions for tonight, and frankly, it all sounds super dodgy. A knot grows in the pit of my stomach, threatening to turn into heartburn, but I push it back into the depths whence it comes. Fuck unease, I need the money, so... to hell with conventions!

I still jump as the door slams open, letting in my flamboyant flat mate and best friend, Nola.

“Rowan Henley, your carriage awaits!” she announces with an over-the-top curtsy before straightening, a madwoman’s grin sprawled on her face. “Oh, it’s such a mysterious event, so exciting! Are you excited?”

The frown creasing my foundation says it all. “I’m skeptical. And nervous.”

That’s enough to worry Nola. “But why? Come on, you trust me, right? I would never put you up to a job that could cause you any harm. It’s the most talked-about event of the year. Gwideon Malevant’s Mystery Ball!”

Her eyes twinkle like stars as she mentions the name of the most influential zillionaire in the world—who also happens to be very secretive and, though super handsome, has the deadest peepers I’ve ever seen. I shudder as Nola resumes. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there! And I’m not talking little TV starlets you’ve never heard of, no missy. CEOs and billionaires and people you actually want to network with, that’s the jam!”

I regain some confidence at these words. I do, somewhat desperately, need to connect with people who would indeed be interested in my designing talents and could afford my ambitions. No way I’m gonna be a waitress all my life after all. That’s just to pay for my studies.

“Yeah, okay. It’s just...” I check outside the window. A black limousine with dark windows is waiting in front of our house. “Don’t you find it odd that they’re sending a limo to fetch me? I mean, are they for real taking me to a mysterious place dressed like a call-girl to do some waitressing? I don’t even know where I’m going! And they were crystal clear. I’m not allowed to take my phone with me. My phone! What kind of event is this?”

“The fancy schmancy super exclusive kind, my dear, where there won’t be press or selfies to dampen the mood.” Nola takes my hands in hers. They’re so soft against my clammy palms. “Relax, Roro. You’re gonna be just fine, even without your phone. And you’re gonna get loads of money to pay the rent and your school fees, isn’t that awesome? Besides, you might meet someone interesting who’ll sweep you off your feet and take you away from this dump and give you the life you deserve! What d’you say?”

I smirk. “I say you’re a lunatic, Nola Green. But I love your enthusiasm.”

The car honks twice.

“Shit, I gotta go. Wish me luck?”

“You don’t need luck, love. You’re awesome enough. Have fun!”

I grab my leather jacket and emergency backpack and run down the stairs, stilettos in hand. As I hold the front door open, I put them on, losing my balance and almost tripping, but the doorjamb helps me regain some composure. I close the door, straighten my skirt, and march towards the ominous car with all the grace of an offended cat trying to save some dignity, but failing miserably.

The blinding headlights make me squint, and I’m unable to see the face of the driver, or anything else really. The unmistakable pop of a car door lets me know someone opened it, expecting my immediate arrival, so I trot on. In my haste to embark, I lose a shoe. I snatch it just in time before the door slams shut in my face as the car bursts into life and revs down the street.

In the gloom of the back seats, I make out two dark silhouettes in black cloaks and silvery venetian masks sat opposite me. One of them grabs my bag and rummages through it, I guess to make sure I didn’t sneak in my phone against their recommendations. The other one fixes their veiled gaze on me. Without a word, they hand me a blindfold.

“For me?”

A nod.

I tense up and frown. “Erm, that’s super weird. I mean...”

“Put it on, now. No questions. No talking. Do your job, get paid, go home. Understood?”

I squirm in my seat but nod. I have no choice now, do I? The door’s probably locked, and even if I could open it, the car’s driving way too fast to jump out of without killing myself. A heaving sigh sails through my lips as I put the blindfold on. It’s going to be a fucking long night.

CHAPTER2

After what seems like hours,the car stops and the door pops open.

“You can take the blindfold off now. Go to the back entrance. Show your ID to the guards and find the maître d’. He’ll give you your assignment for the night. Work well and you’ll get an even bigger reward. Have a good night, Ms. Henley.”

I unfold the fabric with great care. Now’s not the time to ruin my make-up, though thankfully, I’ve taken my kit for touch-ups. Always come prepared, eh?

What I’m not prepared for is the sight greeting me as I step outside the car. I’ve seen grandiose mansions in magazines and renovated castles in the countryside on my travels. But this? It’s the stuff of dreams and fairytales—if Wonderland was an episode ofGrand Designsand your fairy godmother’s name was Kevin McCloud.

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