2 Unhitched (4 page)

Yes! They’re gossiping! I learn about a catfight over a dress on sale at the Ballgown Emporium… a disturbed a little girl named Alice who’s banned from playdates with their daughters… and the exorbitant asking price of Beauty and The Beast’s palace—and it’s only a fixer upper.

What crap! I’m already tired of hearing about it. Get me out of here! Just as I’m about to split, one of them says something that makes my heart jump.

“Did you hear about Aurora?”

What about Aurora?
My ears are burning.

“She’s splitting up with her husband, Prince Phillip.”

“For another man?” gasps the other woman.

YES! MY MAN! I scream so loudly inside my head it hurts. I don’t need to hear another word. I dash out of the steam room, almost killing myself on the slippery wet floor. It won’t be long until the
Fairytale Tattler
gets hold of this story, and everyone in Lalaland knows that Gallant is having an affair. With that Sleeping Slut, Aurora.

The news of Aurora’s split with her husband has shaken me to the core. My hands tremble as I button up my gown in one of the spa’s private dressing rooms. There’s one person who will never be unbuttoning it. Gallant.

As I throw my damp hair into a ponytail, I remember my standing side-by-side hair appointment with Winnie at My Fair Hair. My distress gives way to a momentary sense of satisfaction. I can’t wait to rub my new evidence in her face.

Hoping I won’t be too late, I dash through The Trove to the hair salon located at the other end of the mall. My nerves are more frazzled than my hair. When I tear through the entrance, the place is bustling with fairy-tale princesses.

Perfectly coiffed hair, I’ve learned is yet another one of their royal obsessions. Seriously, have you ever seen a princess who didn’t have fabulous hair? I read in some magazine that there’s a correlation between good hair and a good marriage. Good Hair = Getting married to a prince + Staying married to one. When I think about Gallant and Aurora again, I think about all the money and time I’ve wasted. Rage seeps through my veins. Keeping up my hair didn’t save our marriage. I’m going to ask Gallant to pay me back every cent in the divorce settlement. And I might even sue that magazine.

My eyes dart around the salon for Winnie. Phew! Though almost done, she’s still here. I run up to her. Her long wavy flame-red hair looks gorgeous. As she takes a glimpse of herself in a mirror, I tell her about the conversation I overheard at The Enchanted Spa.

“How’s that for P-R-O-O-F that Gallant is cheating on me with Aurora?” I boast.

“You don’t have a thing,” says Winnie, admiring her hair.

“What do you mean?” I ask, incredulous.

“You didn’t actually hear those two gossip girls mention Gallant’s name. You’re assuming something that may not necessarily be true.” With a shake of her head, her mane of red hair cascades gloriously down her back. “You can’t even be certain that Aurora left Phillip for another man.”

I feel like a balloon that’s been poked with a pin. Totally deflated. Winnie’s right. I have no proof. I should have stayed in the steam room longer.

Winnie flings her long green cloak over her shoulders. It matches her sage-green eyes and makes her red hair stand out even more.

“You’re leaving?” My voice borders on despair.

“I have a double birthday party this afternoon; there’s a lot to do.”

She gives me a peck on my cheek. As if that’s supposed to make me feel better. “Promise me that you won’t say anything to Gallant until you have proof.”

“Fine.” Grimacing, I watch my friend, Lalaland’s most in-demand event planner, dash out the door. I’m convinced. She
is
conspiring with Shrink.

I’m in no mood to get my hair done. Though I really could use a good haircut. It’s still growing out from that dreadful bob I got a couple of years ago at Faraway that left me practically bald. My hair stylist Goldilocks says it will take years for my hair to get long again.

I brighten. Goldilocks knows everything about everyone. While she’s not the brightest star in the universe—I mean, she almost got eaten by a bunch of bears for stupidly eating their porridge—she’s a great listener and has a big heart. Every Lalaland princess confides in her. There’s something about her—a
je ne sais quoi
—that makes you want to tell her everything. Maybe because she’s so non-judgmental. I’m sure she knows the dirt on Gallant and Aurora. In fact, Aurora probably told her herself. Egad! There I go again, jumping to conclusions.

I sprightly march up to the hair fairy receptionist to check in for my appointment.

“Sorry, you’re too late,” she says, with a flutter of her wings. “Goldilocks had to leave for her next appointment. The princess bride booked her a year ago for hair and makeup.”

A fairy-tale wedding. The memory of mine, soon to be ancient history, brings a rush of tears to my eyes. Oh, how in love Gallant was with me on that unforgettable, magical day! We exchanged gold bands that were inscribed with the word “forever.” I’m beginning to believe that word doesn’t belong in the dictionary.

The receptionist gives me a sympathetic look before hovering over her appointment list. She runs a teeny finger down the schedule, then stops and smiles. “Gothel has a cancellation and can take you.”

Gothel?
Gothel was my roommate at Faraway for less than twenty-four hours. She arrived just when I was getting out. Let’s put it this way: it wasn’t the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Her farewell words to me were: “Fuck you.” Despite attending EPA meeting together, she still hasn’t warmed up to me.

What little I do know about her is that she was committed to Faraway for cutting off the floor-to-ceiling braids of some princess named Rapunzel. Since when was haircutting a crime? If it was, those two hair fairies at Faraway, who butchered my hair and Gothel’s, should have gotten life. There must be something else I don’t know.

For her post rehab stint, Gothel was sent to Lalaland to apprentice as a hairdresser. I suppose Shrink figured she would be good at cutting hair since she chopped off Rapunzel’s.

Well, it turns out that Shrink was right as usual. Gothel proved to have extraordinary talent with hair shears and grew a huge clientele of fairy-tale royalty. When she gave Cinderella layers, it caused a kingdom-wide sensation. Every princess and her sister wanted her hair that way.

Now, she’s a haircutting legend. It takes months to get an appointment with her. I’ve tried for over a year. But no luck. She’s always booked up, I’m told. But if you ask me, I don’t think she likes me. Maybe because Hook has always had a thing for me.

So why now? I’m suspicious. Even a little scared. Her tempestuous on-and-off relationship with Hook is always in the tabloids. After the last EPA meeting, she ran after him, screaming madly with her hair shears pointed his way.

Suddenly, I get it. Of course!
She
knows that Gallant is seeing Aurora. I’ll be a free woman in no time. And she’s threatened that Hook will go after me again. The picture is crystal clear. She wants me out of the way! So, she’s going to stab me with her sharp scissors! I’m going to be a dead woman… and Gallant is going to be married to Sleeping Beauty!

Ouch! Someone yanks my hair and jerks me out of my train of thought. I wheel around. It’s Gothel!

I eye her with trepidation. She’s dressed in tight black leather britches and spiky-heeled pirate boots that make her long, toned legs look endless. A matching, tightly laced corset reveals her ample breasts and sinewy arms. Truthfully, I’ve never seen arm muscles bulge like hers. On one bicep, there’s a large tattoo—a skull and crossbones. On the other, an anchor with Hook’s name inscribed below. Around her boyishly narrow hips, she sports a thick studded leather belt with pockets that hold her cutting tools. Or should I say murder weapons. Her jet-black hair is short and razor-blade spiky. And her nose is pierced. You get the picture. She’s scary. Very scary.

She gives me the once over with her fierce violet eyes. I don’t move a muscle.

“You need help, babe!” she says in a deep, husky voice that could easily be mistaken for a man’s.

What does she mean by that? Shoving me into a chair, she whips out her large, shiny shears and starts chopping my hair. SNIP! SNIP! SNIP! The sound gives me the shivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to look. Any moment I expect to feel a sharp blade digging deep into my back and warm blood—mine! —pouring down my spine. And then the sound of the scissors ceases. I bravely open my eyes, catching sight of myself in a mirror. Wow! She is sheer (shear?) genius! My raven-black hair looks amazing! Falling like a cape around my shoulders, it perfectly frames my faces, bringing out my high cheekbones and almond-shaped green eyes.

Gothel admires her handiwork. “If you think I work magic with shears, just wait until you see what I can do with a sword.”

She hands me a card and moves on to her next client. I read it:

LADY GOTHEL: DRAGONSLAYER

No job is too big or too small.

I wonder why she has handed this to me. Does Dragon Lady slay man-eaters too? I’m afraid to ask.

My new haircut has given me back my self-confidence and a fresh perspective. I can’t find any evidence that Gallant is having an affair. Maybe he’s not. Shame on me for thinking that he was. His beautiful face with its dazzling smile fills my head. A sudden burning urge to make love to him comes over me.

My insides are throbbing. Just the thought of making love with My Prince can have that effect. He’s incredible. An artist. Believe me, he could write a book on
The Art of Making
Love.
And illustrate it too.

With thoughts of his tongue masterfully stroking my body, I fly into our palace and collide head on with him. His eyes are narrow; his lips pressed into a grim line. My heart, hammering with desire moments ago, hammers with apprehension. The expression on his face is not one that says: Let me take you in my arms.

“Where have you been?” Each word is a sharp staccato.

What happened to “darling”? I’m totally taken aback by his snippy tone. Doesn’t he even notice my haircut?

“You were supposed to be back here an hour ago,” he growls. “Dr. Grimm put us on a tight schedule.”

I grimace. I totally forgot to check my ovulation calendar. My preoccupation with Aurora has thrown off my memory and sense of time.

“I rushed back here from my studio to make love to you.” Clenching his paint-splattered fists, he’s growing more furious by the minute. “I have wasted precious time waiting for you when I could have used the time to paint. The museum gala is less than two weeks away.”

I know his painting retrospective has been stressful. He’s been working around the clock, and he’s exhausted. But he’s never taken it out on me. In fact, he’s never snapped at me before.

“I’m sorry,” I say meekly, hoping that an apology will lead him to sweep me off my feet.

“Forget it. It’s too late.”

Forget it?
His words sting me like an angry bee. He doesn’t even care about having a child with me.

“I’m going upstairs,” I say frostily. “I’ll be there if you want me.”

Dressed in my sexiest black lace negligee (a present from Gallant), I lie sprawled on our palatial bed, counting down the seconds for My Prince to burst into the room and ravage me. Okay, he may be miffed. But he’s never been able to resist me.
Ever!

A faint gong emanates from the grandfather clock. An hour passes. And then another. No Gallant.

My emotions have shifted from desire and anticipation to anger and despair. As the gong strikes yet another hour, reality strikes me. I was right. I should have trusted by gut. He no longer wants me. He’s found someone else. Aurora.

Tears burn my cheeks. I should be glad that I missed an opportunity to try to conceive with the cheating bastard. But the pathetic truth… I’m not.

I cry myself to sleep.