Crown of Lies

Stepping around her, I beelined for the final thing on my list.

I’d never worn anything less than thousand dollar cashmere coats. However, tonight I would wear...

I tapped my fingers, deliberating the jacket choice.

Tonight, I’ll wear a patent leather black bomber with a price tag of $19.99.

Pulling it off the hanger, I fondled the cheap material. I’d always wanted to wear something like this. As I slipped it on, two emotions skittered: terror and the sudden desire to return all the clothes to where they belonged, and eager frustration to begin my exploration of the Big Apple.

I was afraid.

I was excited.

I was so sick of being sheltered and only being good at one thing.

It’s time for that to change.

“Happy birthday to me.” I tucked the wallet into my bomber jacket pocket, scooped Sage from the floor and rubbed her nose with mine. “I love you, but you can’t come.”

Her little face pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I won’t be gone long.”

She meowed sadly.

My heart squeezed, but I steeled myself against her guilt trip and headed toward the elevators. Walking was so much easier and comfier in sneakers than heels. No wonder people choose them over fashion.

“I’m sorry, Sage, but it’s only one night.” Holding her firm with one hand, I pressed the button to summon two elevators.

One to go up and one to go down.

The up one came first, and I plopped her into it. Giving her a smile, I pressed my office level on the top floor. “Go back. Curl up in your basket. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

She meowed again as the doors slowly closed.

I whispered, “Don’t look at me like that. It hurts too much.”

I hugged myself the moment she’d gone, feeling utterly alone and terrified.

Why am I doing this?

I should forget it and just go home.

But then the down elevator pinged and waited for me to be brave and commit to one night away from Belle Elle.

Hesitantly, fearfully, I stepped into it and prepared to become someone else.

Someone free.

Chapter Four

EVERYTHING seemed different.

Everything is different.

The air tasted richer. The traffic sounded louder. The temperature felt cooler. Even the sensation of cheap vinyl around my shoulders and cushy sneakers on my feet was different.

Nineteen years and this was the first time I’d been introduced to the world without finery or rules keeping me barricaded from living.

I inhaled deep, coughing a little as a taxi spewed exhaust. The burn in my throat was so foreign to the filtered air of the Belle Elle building that I grinned rather than grimaced.

The purse with its cash whispered to be spent, and my identification badge remained hidden in my pocket, reminding me who I was and how irresponsible I was being.

I had no phone for Dad to contact me. No method of communication or way of calling for help if I got lost or into trouble.

I was willing to put myself at risk just to live a little; to taste a different life to the one I’d been given.

I couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t exhilarating, but it was also absolutely terrifying.

Those first few steps away from Belle Elle physically hurt. The ache in my chest at disappointing my father hollowed me out until even my excitement at doing something new couldn’t fill.

A few times, I second-guessed myself and almost turned around. I stopped, spun, and looked back at the huge hulking building where the shopping mega store was run.

But then I reminded myself if I didn’t do this, I would never know what it was like to be normal. So I sucked it up, turned back around, and put one sneakered foot in front of the other, slowly entering the empire of downtown New York.

Strangers bumped into me, tourists asked me to take their photograph, and street vendors yelled about their wares directly into my face.

The sensory overload slowly eroded my shame for sneaking out and forced me to pay attention to every minor thing.

For hours, I walked.

I stared.

I breathed.

I let life take me wherever it wanted for a change. I had no idea where I was going or how to get back, but I let my feet get me lost because I had money to catch a taxi home. I knew my address—I wasn’t that sheltered. I could afford to go wherever I wanted, and at the end of my adventures hop in a cab and return with a new depth to my existence. And a secret I would happily harbor forever.

At some point, I must’ve done a block and looped back on myself, so instead of turning left when I arrived at Times Square, I turned right and continued letting the city show me what I’d been missing.

Flashing billboards tried to convince me I needed the latest Jeep and Hummer. Hollywood stars and starlets glowed in LED wonder with snippets of upcoming movies. Madame Tussauds promised wonders forever encapsulated in wax, and Ripley’s Believe It or Not! beckoned me to see things not common in everyday life.

Walking past a souvenir shop, a bunch of clocks held up by mini Statues of Liberty showed I’d wandered for a while.

Ten p.m.

By now, if I’d stuck to my routine, I would be at home, fresh from a quick treadmill-run and shower. I would answer a few last-minute emails and crawl into bed to read the latest romance before my eyes closed and the e-reader bopped me on the head.

Not tonight.

Tonight, strangers smiled or yelled—depending if they wanted me to do something for them or get out of the way. I either moved too fast or too slow, unable to fall into the rhythm of the mismatched crowd I’d adopted. My jacket overheated me from walking and being cramped into streets with sweaty people made me claustrophobic. My feet were flat, and my tummy was empty.