Don't Call Me Cinderella

First off, this is not a fairytale. There’s no wishing well, no fairy godmother, and no “Someday My Prince Will Come.” If that’s settled, you’re welcome to listen. Unless you’re a hopeless romantic who only wants to hear “happily ever after” and “wishes come true”. Well, once upon a time, that wasn’t this story.

My name’s Elle Lawson. Got that? Elle, not Ella. I work at a designer dress shop on Main Street. Which Main Street it is, in which city, doesn’t matter. I’ve lived with the owner since I was nine, when my parents died, and I’ve been an “apprentice” at her store for nearly as long. My parents didn’t have any family, and she was Dad’s best friend, so they made her my legal guardian in their will. Amazing how you can be friends with someone for twenty years and not know the first thing about her. Of course, Dad always was too trusting.

See? Nothing magical about that. Need more proof? How about this cast list? My “wicked stepmother” is Lorna D. Manderley, owner of Manderley Dress Emporium and a real sweetheart (irony intended). My “evil stepsisters” are Maddie Wentz and Sophie Stewart, head clerks at the Emporium and the two most annoying little glamour-pusses a person could ever hope not to meet. My “fairy godmother” is Darla Holly, the classy but outspoken older lady who comes in once a month, looks over every dress, tells off Maddie and Sophie for their terrible customer service, then leaves without buying anything. I’m pretty sure she’s a former millionaire who can’t quite handle that she doesn’t have the money for designer clothes anymore. Then, of course, there’s my “prince charming”, Aran Golding, the poor little rich boy whose mother drags him into the emporium about once a week so he can watch her model and tell her which she should buy for such-and-such event. Okay, he’s actually pretty great. We’ve never talked, but he usually catches my eye at least once when he comes in, and sometimes he even smiles.

Not very fanciful, is it? No wave of a magic wand can fix my life. I know I sound like a cynic, but you’d be pessimistic too if you’d spent the last twelve years being ignored, yelled at, and generally pushed around by the biggest dictator since Stalin. This won’t be the most cheerful story you’ll hear today, or this week, or even this month, and there’s very little chance that it will end with a “happily ever after.” You really want to hear it? Well, alright, pull up a chair, but don’t call me Cinderella!

“If you’re not out here in the next minute, Missy….”

I drop the pile of boxes in my arms at the sound of Lorna’s voice. That woman should have been a dog trainer. No one else can yell quite like she can. I shove the boxes back onto the shelf haphazardly and dash for the door. No time to organize them now.

I find her in the showroom, hand on her hip, eyes on her wristwatch, foot tapping. “Took you long enough,” she snips, turning and sweeping toward the front door.

I just roll my eyes and take my place behind the counter. I learned early on that arguing does no good. It’s a struggle to keep my tongue in check, but I’ve mastered nothing if not self-control.

As she unlocks the front door and turns the OPEN sign around, Maddie and Sophie emerge from the back, the former fixing her hair every time she passes a mirror and the latter yawning lazily.

“Good morning, Lorna,” Maddie says, her voice dripping like molasses. “I love that dress! You are working it, girl!”

Lorna smiles. “Thank you, Maddie. Your hair looks beautiful! How do you make it so shiny?”

Maddie snorts. “What, this mess? I didn’t even have time to style it!” She gives the so-called “mess” another flip.

“Morning, Lorna,” Sophie says, checking her make-up in one of the mirrors.

Lorna walks up behind her. “Having trouble?”

“My eyelashes are awful today! I couldn’t get them on to save my life!”

“You really should try the ones I use! They’re magnetic, you know!”

“I should."

As the only one watching the door, I alone see Darla approaching the emporium. I perk up. Darla is by far my favorite customer. She always has a cheerful greeting for me, and there’s nothing better than seeing Maddie and Sophie get told off. I clear my throat, and the pampering princesses turn toward the door.

“Oh, no,” Maddie whines. “It’s her.”

Lorna rolls her eyes. “Well, it can’t be helped. Just get rid of her as quickly as you can. I’ll be in the back.” She sweeps away before anyone can argue.

“Ugh,” Sophie groans. “Why do we always get stuck with her?”

“I’ll wait on her,” I pipe up.

“Quiet, you,” Maddie snaps. “You know you’re not a fashion consultant! You just stay by your cash register!”

I roll my eyes but don’t respond as Darla walks in. I smile at her as her eyes fall on me. “Good morning, Elle,” she says. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Maddie and Sophie bristling.

“Hi, Darla,” I reply. “How’re you doing today?”

“Just fine,” she replies. “Do you have anything good today? You seldom do, you know.” I suppress a giggle. I love this lady! If only I had the confidence to say the things she does!

“I wouldn’t know,” I reply. “I’m not a fashion consultant.” I risk a glance at Maddie; she looks ready to boil over.

“Well, Darla,” Sophie breaks in, stepping between us, “what can we do for you today?”

“I’ll just look, thank you,” Darla replies coolly, starting to walk away. Sophie rolls her eyes. Not bothering to turn around, Darla says, “I saw that, you know.”

Customers trickle in and out, one by one, as is the way in high-end retail. For most of the day, Darla floats around the place, touching, looking, once or twice hunting down Maddie to ask a question, never without a few sharp words between them. Then, around 4 o’clock, he comes in. Now for the true bright spot of my day! It’s Aran, following after his mother, buried in the latest smartphone. I swear he buys a new phone as often as his mother buys new clothes. I straighten up and shove a few unruly curls back into my hairclip. As Maddie and Sophie trip over each other to wait on Dolly and her attractive son, I will him to glance my way. Look up, whispers an insistent voice in my head. Look up, please! Almost as if he heard my telepathic plea, he glances up from his phone and looks right at me. I smile and raise my hand in the tiniest wave. He gives the barest hint of a smirk and nods before looking down again. Hey, I’ll take it! It’s better than nothing.

Suddenly, Lorna appears out of the back. “Dolly!” she exclaims, sweeping over to greet her best customer. They hug and give each other a fake kiss on the cheek.

“You look gorgeous! Surely, I can’t sell you anything today!”

“Oh, but you can!” Dolly replies. “I’m giving the party of the year, in just two weeks! I’ve got to have a dress for it! And I mean, the dress!”

“I just happen to have a fabulous dress in stock! I know you’ll love it! Come with me!”

They sweep away and fit her in the ugliest, gaudiest sequin monstrosity I’ve ever seen. High fashion! It’s too tight in all the wrong places, transparent at odd patches, and honestly makes her look like a partially scaled fish. Of course, she loves it! They insist how gorg she looks in it, and how she’s absolutely slaying. Aran glances up once, says, “Nice,” and disappears into his phone again. That’s enthusiastic for him, from what I’ve seen.

So, they put it in its box and have me ring it up. I try not to wince at the price when I scan it. Dolly hands her card to me carelessly, and I shake my head as I swipe it. All that money, and look what she does with it.

When she’s rung up and ready to leave, she turns to Lorna again. “Now, remember! Two weeks from Saturday! I want you all there, understand? If you’re not, I’ll send someone to get you! It just wouldn’t be a real party without my favorite fashionistas there!” Then, it’s hugs and kisses all around, and off they go, without Aran saying more than three words the whole time.

The moment she’s gone, the three “fashionistas” fairly explode with excitement. Maddie and Sophie are jumping up and down, squealing and hugging, and Lorna is all but doing the same. I just tune them out. No use listening to that.

“Well, what’s all this about?” We turn to see Darla nearby.

Lorna smiles. “We’ve been invited to Dolly Golding’s party two weeks from Saturday. She says it will be her greatest yet.”

Darla scoffs. “Oh, that.”

Lorna presses her lips together. “Have you been invited, Darla?” she asks.

“Oh, certainly, but I won’t be attending,” Darla says offhandedly. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of her brawls.”

“We’ve been specially invited,” Maddie interjects. “She said the party wouldn’t be complete without her favorite fashionistas!”

“Oh, then Elle will be going, too,” Darla says bluntly. All four of us look at her in shock.

“Her?!” Sophie exclaims. “She’s not invited!”

“She works here, doesn’t she?” Darla persists. “That must make her one of the ‘fashionistas’, too!”

Before her minions can say anything, Lorna steps in and says, “Quiet, girls. Of course, Elle will be going. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I risk a glance at her before quickly dropping my eyes. Don’t get your hopes up, a voice in my head says. She’s just saying that for appearances. She doesn’t mean it.

“I should hope so,” Darla replies. She looks over at me. “Though, I don’t know if I’d bother accepting the invitation, Elle. It’s really not worth your time.”

I just smile without replying. Is she kidding? I would kill to go to one of those parties! Dancing, bright lights, music, maybe a chance to talk to Aran; I’d have to be nuts not to want that!

“Well, goodbye… ladies,” Darla says sarcastically. “Let me know when you actually get something tasteful in.”

Maddie fumes, but she doesn’t say anything. We all know it’s pointless to argue with Darla. “Do come again,” Lorna calls. Darla doesn’t reply.

When she’s gone, all three of them turn to look at me with amused expressions. I pretend to be busy with the cash register. “You, go to one of Dolly Golding’s parties,” Lorna says, in her best you’re so pathetic voice. She laughs. “That’ll be the day.”

Still chattering and laughing, they disappear into the back. I slam the cash register drawer shut. Why did I let the suggestion get to me? Why did I even admit that I want to go to that party more than anything? When will I learn not to hope?

I put the last box on the shelf and breath a sigh of relief. Done for the day, at last. The others took off about an hour ago, leaving me to clean up, as always. Now for the fun part of my day!

See, all my life, I’ve loved to sing. Two years ago, I got a job entertaining at “The Mocktail Bar,” this place with all the markings of a cocktail lounge, but for minors. It doesn’t pay a lot, but I enjoy it, and it’s probably the most glamorous thing I’ll ever do. Lorna’d go through the roof if she found out, but I don’t care. I lock the back door and cross the parking lot to where my one worldly possession sits waiting. Yes, my pride and joy, my little orange Subaru Crosstrek. It was previously owned and isn’t in the best shape, but it took me two years to save the money to buy it, and it’s the only thing I really own. It didn’t help when this dumb guy who works at the bar said it looks like a pumpkin, but I’m not gonna let that ruin Clementine for me. Settling into the driver’s seat feels like coming home. I shut the door and head off.

Have you ever noticed how quickly two weeks can slip away? Especially when you’re dreading what comes at the end of them. I haven’t seen Dolly, Aran, or Darla since that afternoon, and the time has sped by. Every day, I’ve almost broken down and begged Lorna to bring me, but my pride won’t let me. I wouldn’t go begging to her if my life depended on it.

This is it. Party day has arrived. The emporium is closed today, but we all trek downtown anyway, because the three of them are going to “borrow” dresses from the stock to wear to the party. I spend the afternoon running back and forth between the dressing room, the racks, and the storeroom. By the time they’re dolled-up and beautiful, I look like something the cat found in a back alley: bedraggled, damp, and fully miserable. They’re ready about two hours sooner than they need to be, so they start arguing about what to do with their extra time as I clean up.

Finally, I can’t stand it. “Lorna!” I say. They stop talking and turn toward me simultaneously.

“Do you want something?” Sophie asks.

“I… was just thinking… Well, I’ve saved up some money and, I thought… maybe I could… sort of rent a dress from you so I could go, too.” I don’t dare to look at her. “I… I never ask you for anything, and I really want to go! I’ve never been to a party.” I look down at my hands, fiddling with the jagged edge of a broken nail.

“Oh, girls, isn’t that sweet? She wants to pay me so she can go to a party. I suppose you think you’ll be little Cinderella going to the ball!”

I grit my teeth. Not the Cinderella comparison. Please, not that.

“Little Cinderelle!” Maddie taunts.

Unable to take it, I continue stacking boxes.

“Well, if you’ll recall, Missy,” Lorna continues. “It doesn’t work out too well when little Cinders asks to go to the ball, does it? So, unless, your fairy godmother shows up pretty soon, it doesn’t look like you’ll be going.” I don’t reply.

“Well,” Lorna pretends to check a watch. “It seems she’s a little late.” Sophie and Maddie giggle. “Oh, I forgot. She won’t come until we leave, will she? Come on then, girls. We’d better get out of here so she can appear and work her magic.” Laughing, they pick up their skirts and start toward the back door.

As she passes me, Lorna hits one of the boxes with her purse. The whole pile collapses into a mess of cardboard and tissue, littering the floor and undoing about fifteen minutes of work. The back door clicks shut, and I angrily knock down my other pile. Then, I collapse onto the floor and, drawing my knees up to cover my face, I burst into tears. I haven’t cried in years, so, for a long time, I sit there and sob. I let it all out, all the hurt, all the anger, all the frustration, until I feel like I’ve cried myself dry.

Then, feeling resigned, I wipe my eyes and climb to my feet. As I start the tedious work of closing and re-stacking the boxes, I hear a knock. I look up in surprise to see Darla outside. Puzzled, I walk to the door and unlock it.

“I’m sorry, Darla, we’re closed today.” I glance over at the clock. “Even if we weren’t, it’s past working hours.”

“I know that, silly girl,” Darla replies, pushing past me into the store.

I shut the door and follow her. “Darla, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to help you get ready, of course.”

I feel a strange stirring sensation. “Get ready? You… you don’t mean for the party.”

“What else?” I shake my head. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. This is too much. You can’t come in here, now, after all that, and play fairy godmother!”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” she says. “But I do know that you have very little time and….” she stops suddenly as she looks at me. “What have you been doing? You look like you’ve run a marathon!”

“I’ve been helping the ‘fashionistas’ get ready since ten o’clock.”

“Well, I certainly have my work cut out for me,” she says, starting toward the racks. “You know, the last time I was here, I actually saw a beautiful dress. That’s a first in this establishment.”

Bewildered, I just say, “It’s been two weeks. It probably sold.”

“Not that dress,” she says. “No one has the taste to buy it. Besides, it’s not on the floor yet. I saw it in the backroom, with a tag saying it wasn’t to be displayed for three weeks.”

She disappears into the back, as my brain whirs away. I remember a dress we got in about a month ago that Lorna said to hold off on. In fact, I think I wrote that tag myself, but she couldn’t… no, she couldn’t possibly mean that dress. She emerges from the back, and I see the soft blue satin gown draped over her arms. Yep, she meant that dress.

“Darla,” I say. “I cannot wear that dress. No way. Did you look at the price tag?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “This is perfect for you! It’s just your size, too.”

“I can’t! Lorna will kill me!”

“Honestly, Elle, you don’t think I’m going to steal it, do you?”

“Well, not steal, exactly, just borrow.”

“That is not how I do things,” she says and, handing me the dress, she walks over to my counter and confidently slaps down a stack of hundreds.

My eyes bulge. “You… you mean, you have got money?” I stammer before I can stop myself.

“Of course I have money,” she replies. “I just never saw anything here that was worth buying, until now.”

“That’s what you always said,” I murmur.

“Now, let’s get to work.”

One hour later, I’m bouncing nervously on my heels in the dressing room. “Please stop bouncing,” Darla says. “How can I do your hair when you’re moving?”

“I can’t stand it!” I exclaim. “Won’t you please let me see?”

“Not until you’re ready,” she insists. “There! All done!”

“Now, can I see?”

“Not until you have shoes,” she replies.

“I can get some from the showroom,” I reply.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she says. “I’ve seen how you dress. You’d probably pick out rhinestone sneakers.” I suppress a giggle. She’s not wrong.

After about three more minutes of anxious waiting, she returns with a pair of clear plastic pumps, accented with sparkling crystals. “Here we are,” she says.

“Oh, Darla,” I say. “They’re beautiful! But I’ve never worn heels before.”

“You’ll be alright,” she says. “We’ll just have you practice a little. Now, put on these earrings.” I accept the sparkly dangles she hands to me and put them in. “Now, the necklace… good girl, and the bracelet… and the rings.”

Thoroughly bedazzled, I turn, a little awkwardly, and say, “Now, may I see?”

She smiles. “Yes, now you may.”

Gently, she takes my hand and leads me out of the dressing room. I hold up the skirt with my other hand and watch my dangerously wobbling ankles as I make my way into the showroom.

“Now, shut your eyes,” Darla says. Sighing, I comply, and she leads me toward the platform. “Step up here,” she says. “Now, open your eyes.”

My eyelids flutter open, and I gasp. In the reflection, I can see Darla smile and bounce on her heels like an excited little girl with her first doll. An A-line dress of soft blue satin hangs perfectly from my shoulders to the floor, accentuating my curves in just the right places, spreading softly from the waist down. A rhinestone belt accents it perfectly, and the jewelry matches just right. One foot in a crystal-studded shoe peeks from beneath the skirt. Even my hair, which was previously Frizzy-town, is beautifully clipped back with crystal pins and gathered nicely at the back of my neck. Awestruck, I turn to face Darla.

“Oh, Darla,” I say. “I’m beautiful!”

“You’ve always been beautiful, dear. You just needed to be brought out,” she says. I step off the platform and throw my arms around her. “Thank you so much! I can never repay you!”

“Now, now,” she says. “There’s no need to repay me.” She pushes me away gently. “Now, for the finishing touch!” Only as she says this do I notice the white fur hanging over her arm. She drapes it softly over my shoulders.

“Oh, Darla.… What is this?”

“White sable,” she says. “Lorna’s finest.”

“But, I can’t….”

“Now, that’s enough,” she insists. “I won’t hear another word of argument.” She picks up a beaded bag from a nearby chair and puts it in my hand. “There’s a very important slip of paper in there. If they stop you at the door, just tell them you’re a friend of mine and show them that. Now, off we go!”

As I follow her carefully through the backroom to the parking lot, I joke, “I’ll make some fine entrance showing up in Clementine.” Even as the words escape my mouth, we step out the back, and I’m met by the sight of a shiny white Tesla parked in my usual spot. “Wh… where’s my car?” I ask.

“Don’t worry,” Darla replies. “You’ll have it back first thing tomorrow morning.”

“But, Darla.…” I begin. “No, no more arguing, remember? Get in, and off you go! You’re already going to be late!”

At her urging, I open the door and step carefully into the driver’s seat. It feels as beautiful as it looks.

I turn to look at Darla as she tucks my skirt in with me. “Are you going to tell me now to be back by midnight?”

She looks at me with a twinkle in her eye. “It might be advisable,” she says, then, before I can reply, she shuts the door and motions for me to go. What can I do but obey?

I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. I pull up to the ritziest hotel, and a valet attendant opens the door. He takes my keys and drives the car away for me. A doorman, in white gloves, no less, opens the door for me and directs me to the correct room. I walk through an open doorway into an honest-to-goodness ballroom. Chandelier, patterned floors, the works. There’s live music and tables everywhere with white tablecloths and flowers! As I’m taking it all in, a voice beside me says,

“Excuse me, do you have an invitation?” I turn to see a man in a black suit looking at me suspiciously.

“I’m a friend of Darla Holly.” I pull the slip of paper out of my purse and hand it to him.

He unfolds it, reads it quickly, then smiles and says, “Certainly, miss! Step right in! May I take your stole?”

I hand him the fur and begin making my way into the ballroom. I haven’t gone five steps when a voice exclaims, “Why, hello!”

I whirl around to find Dolly bearing down on me. “What a gorgeous dress! the Manderley Dress Emporium, am I right?”

I gulp. “Yes. The latest!”

“And looks it!” She looks at my face for the first time. “Have… have we met? I know I’ve seen you before.”

“I… I’m a friend of Darla Holly.”

“Oh, of course! We’ve met at one of her parties!”

I smile awkwardly. “Yes! Right.”

“Your name, dear?”

I’m pretty sure she’s never bothered to find out my name at the store, so I reply honestly, “Elle. Elle Lawson.”

“Well, come with me, Elle! I want to introduce you to someone!” She drags me across the room, and I end up face-to-face with Aran. I barely recognize him in his white tuxedo with his hair combed. “Aran! Sweetie, I want you to meet…”

“Dolly!” She whirls around. A woman in a blinding sequin dress is waving to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to say hello to her,” Dolly says, already hurrying away. “You two have fun!”

I turn back to Aran and smile. “Hi,” I say. “Nice party.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Elle, right?”

I blink. “You… you know who I am?”

“Elle Lawson, the girl behind the counter at the Manderley Dress Emporium.”

“I didn’t think anyone would recognize me.”

“I’d know you anywhere,” he says, smirking. He looks out at the dancefloor. “Shall we?”

“I… I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Just follow me,” he says, taking my hand and leading me onto the floor.

Time flies, we dance and dance, song after song. I can’t believe what I’m doing. I’ve always thought I was clumsy, but this girl can dance! Suddenly, an amplified voice booms across the room. “Everyone!” Dolly calls into the microphone. “I’m so sorry, but the singer we planned to have for the second part of the party can’t come. I don’t know what to say! Nothing like this has ever happened before!” She turns and begins having an anxious exchange with the orchestra-leader.

I hear Aran’s voice beside me. “You should sing.”

I turn to him in surprise. “How do you….”

He smiles. “It’s pretty dark in ‘The Mocktail Bar.’”

I just stare at him as Dolly’s voice sounds out again, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to make do with just our wonderful orchestra!”

Suddenly, a voice cries out, “Wait!” It takes me a second to realize it’s my own voice. “I… I’m a singer.”

Everyone turns to look at me in shock. Dolly is scanning the crowd. “Who said that?” I hesitantly raise my hand. “Oh! You sing? Well, come right up then.”

Haltingly, aware of all the eyes on me, I cross the room and mount the stairs onto the stage. Dolly guides me to the microphone.

“Tell me your name again,” she whispers.

“Elle. Elle Lawson.”

She nods. “Everyone, the lovely Elle Lawson is going to sing for us!” Everyone claps as Dolly pats me on the shoulder and leaves the stage. After briefly conferring with the orchestra leader, I turn back to the microphone.

“Thank you, everyone. Tonight… has been the most magical night of my life. I never thought I would say this, but I’ve felt like Cinderella going to the ball. So, as a special thank you to all of you for giving me this, I’m going to sing a very special song.” The orchestra starts up. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and sing, “Ten minutes ago….”

As I finish singing, a wave of sound meets my ears. My eyes spring open to see the entire room applauding wildly. I smile, breathing hard, and feel my eyes well up. All that applause, and just for me! It seems to go on forever, then I carefully dismount the stage.

My happy moment doesn’t last long. As I step back onto the ballroom floor, Lorna suddenly appears in front of me. “What do you think you’re doing, Missy?!” I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. “Stealing my most expensive dress, dolling yourself all up, coming to this party and making a fool of me! I’ll make you sorry for this; mark my words!”

“I didn’t steal it!” I blurt out. “The money for it is on the counter back at the store.

She scoffs. “Money? You don’t have any money!”

“Darla bought it for me,” I say.

“Darla! That hag hasn’t got money either. She’s just a widow who squandered all her money but kept her expensive taste. That’s your fairy godmother, I suppose. Well, let me tell you….”

“Pardon me.” A tall, stately man steps between us and extends his hand to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lawson. You have exceptional talent.”

I accept his offered hand. “Th…thank you very much.”

“I’m Jordan Fletchley,” he says. “I own and operate Fletchley Productions.”

I realize my mouth is hanging open and shut it quickly. “I…. Of course, I’ve heard of you. Fletchley Productions is the finest company in the city! One of the best in the world, in fact!”

“I’m currently working on a brand-new musical,” he says. “I’ve been looking for someone very special to star in it. Would you be interested?”

I stare at him dumbly for a moment. “Are… are you kidding? Me?” He nods, smiling kindly. “Well… I – yes! Absolutely, yes!”

His smile warms and he pulls a card out of his pocket. “Come to our building tomorrow at ten. Bring this card, and we’ll discuss terms.”

I take the card, look at it, then look back at him. “Alright. Absolutely. Thank you so much!”

“Thank you for sharing your talent with us,” he replies. Then, he walks away, just like that.

I turn slowly back to Lorna. She looks dazed. “You were saying, Lorna?”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then draws herself up like she’s about to explode, huffs, and storms away.

“Well, how about that?” I turn and see Aran standing behind me.

“You heard?” I ask. He nods. “Isn’t it wonderful? I don’t know what to do or say….”

“For now, how about dancing with me?” he says, offering his hand.

“Only if they play a waltz,” I reply.

He laughs. “Whatever you say, superstar!”