Free Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love by Mary Hughes Page B

now.
    I have to go to the ball.
    Her legs seized up, her steps faltered. Smudged and baggy Cinderella among the rich and pampered? No. There had to be another way.
    She could phone him. Sure, her stepmother would flay her alive when she found out, but what choice did she have?
    Cin pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Rafe’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
    Had he turned his phone off? God, did that mean he was at the ball already, picking his bride?
    Damn it. Unless she wanted Rafe to marry another woman, she had to find him in person, tonight.
    She had to go to the Glass Slipper Ball.
    She stopped, gazing at herself in the mirror. Her. With her chopped hair and thrift shop wardrobe, showing up at the door to the fancy Prince Ball? She was no social butterfly, so far from high society she’d probably get vertigo standing on his front stoop.
    Her heart hammered at the very idea. Years of effacing, erasing herself because of the Steps’ jealousy kicked in. Don’t make waves. Don’t do anything to call attention. They’d turn her away for sure.
    “Fuck that.” To fight for a future with Rafe, to fight for them, she’d have to figure out a way in.
    She threw herself into Ez’s chair and tried to think. How did the Steps do it? Dress, makeup, shoes, perfume…stink. With the Prince estate at the edge of town, if she walked, she’d arrive smelling like the “before” of a deodorant commercial. Even if she managed the outward appearance of a woman with snoots full of money, how would she get there?
    Start with what you can solve. Her old graduation outfit, a tweed skirt and puffy-sleeved blouse, still fit. Makeup was easy—there was a whole array here. The Steps would never miss a bit of powder and blush.
    Am I really going to do this?
    Lifting her gaze from the counter, she studied her reflection in the mirror and tried to give herself an honest appraisal.
    She could almost hear Ez’s jet-engine whine. “No way! A sandwich girl trying to pass as rich-man marriage material? You’re insane.”
    She had to agree.
    So, I’m just giving up? Giving Rafe up without a fight?
    No, but she might as well wish for a Fairy Godmother to turn a pumpkin into a coach and a dress fashioned by a mouse…
    Damn. A mouse, or a costumer Maus.
    She fumbled out her phone and called Milly. “I’ve changed my mind, and I’m desperate,” she said without preamble. “I want to go to the ball. But I need a dress, and I don’t know if I can make it in time to be considered, not to mention the fact that I can’t walk to the Prince mansion and get my dress dirty and myself sweaty—”
    “Breathe. Relax.” Milly’s tone was soothing, but a hint of laugh sparkled underneath. “I’m already here. There’s a line of prospects snaking through the entire house. They’re going pretty fast—there’s some sort of preapproval protocol—but they’re also going alphabetically. It’ll be hours before they get to Wikkid.”
    “Thank heavens. Since you’re there, tell me I can use my high school graduation outfit—”
    “You can not . This is not a pleated wool skirt sort of affair. Look, the dress stores are probably closed by now, but there’s a whole costume rack at the high school my little sister can raid, and my brother does some sort of taxi-like gig.”
    “Taxi- like? ” Cin asked, but Milly was on a roll.
    “Mike will bring you a dress and heels then take you to the ball. Jump in the shower. By the time you’ve done your hair and got your makeup on he’ll be there. I’ll be waiting at the doors here to give you a bit of protection from the hoity-toitys.”
    “Doors, plural?” Cin squeaked, but Milly had already hung up.
    After a quick shower with the Steps’ expensive body wash and shampoo, stomach full of twerking butterflies, she wrapped herself in an old cotton robe and put up her hair in a chignon. She was applying a mix of gold and brown eyeshadow when she heard a knock at the door. “Just a