Ella
Mrs. Feighry leads me by the hand to her estate, through the hedges that divide our properties.
The shrubs create a thick wall that reaches high enough that it reminds me of a castle. Unlike my house that is crumbling because of neglect, Mrs. F’s house has the same pristine shine that mine once had. I’d never wandered onto this side of the wall after my family had sold it to the new owners.
I was never curious enough about my previous neighbors even though they were more reclusive than my family. People in town would speculate who they thought lived there. I suppose my parents had known who owned the house, but they never said a word. The main house and its grounds are not visible from the street with the gate closed and locked, making it impenetrable to outsiders.
My eyes glaze over the monstrous stone front and manicured walkways that lead to the entrance. “How do you keep up with this place on your own?”
“I hired a lawn service to tend to the grounds, but I do all the cleaning and cooking myself. My husband did most of the work when we lived in North Carolina. He was good with his hands.”
I knew her Southern twang sounded familiar. It’s hard to forget when she sounds so much like my dad. Mom was a Northerner and had never even left this area until she met my dad. Sometimes, she would bust on my father for the way he said certain words. I thought it was funny. She probably even did it to give me a good laugh when I was a kid.
“My dad was from North Carolina,” I mutter, keeping pace with Mrs. F. “What part are you from?”
“I was born and raised in Raleigh—”
“My dad was from Raleigh. What are the odds of that?”
“Raleigh is the second largest city in North Carolina, so I’d say the chances are high. Most people claim to be from the big cities like Raleigh or Charlotte when they live just outside the city lines.”
“As far as I know, he was from the city. My mom always joked that he was more of a country boy.”
She smiles. “A fellow Tar Heel. He sounds like a good man to me.”
“He was the best.”
A beat passes between us with nothing more than the gravel crunching beneath our feet filling the void. Just thinking of my dad on a night like this almost brings tears to my eyes once more. But I suck them down and hold my head high.
“What brings you here?”
“Well, my husband was from High Point. He owned a custom furniture store not far from our house. We lived there until his death last year. I guess I needed to get out of there, you know. Sometimes, you need a break from life. Change can be good when it’s the right kind.”
Her words bring a smile to my face. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Mrs. F sticks a key into the lock and leads me into the dark house. “It gets lonely in this big old house. I would love some company if you can get away sometime.”
“You have no idea how much I would love that. Thank you. I appreciate your help and the offer. It means the world to me that you would go out of your way to help a complete stranger.”
“There’s nothing strange about you, my dear. If you miss the party, you won’t get the chance to meet this boy, and I cannot allow you to do that. I met my Charles at a party. We were inseparable for over fifty years. I want you to have the same opportunity I had. Meeting him changed my life, and I suspect that this boy could change yours, too.”
“I could use some luck,” I say, deflated by how this night turned out. My sisters are such bitches for what they did to my mother’s dress.
Mrs. F stops in front of a large oak door and sticks the key in the lock. With the snap of her fingers, a huge chandelier illuminates the expanse of the open space. Two staircases join in front of us, rounding out the circular foyer. Decorated in what appear to be intertwined branches stained a light green color, the beams that lead upstairs mirror most of the wood throughout the house. I’ve never seen such attention to detail.
At the center of it all, an oversized pumpkin sits atop a small round table with leaves carefully placed around it, as if intentional. This is a home. I remember the days when my mother would plant in her garden and come inside with whatever fruit and vegetables were ripe enough to eat. She’d set them on the kitchen counter and pull up a stool alongside her for me to sit and watch as she attempted to cook her latest cuisine.
Despite living alone, there’s so much warmth to Mrs. F’s house that I wish I could live here instead of the dump next door. Being here with this sweet woman only makes me miss my family even more. As I take everything in and allow myself a few seconds to recall the past, Mrs. F stays quiet at my side. That is until we hear the sound of feet pounding on the tile floor, coming toward us.
A dog rounds the corner and jumps up on her leg, desperate for attention. “Bruno.” She scratches the brown-haired dog behind his floppy ears, taking a few seconds to show him some love. “Okay, boy. Sit down and be good for Mama while I help our new friend.”
He responds to her voice so quickly that I’m a little surprised by how well he listens. Bruno sits at her feet and wags his tail, looking up at Mrs. F.
“Well, dear, shall we find you something more appropriate to wear to this party?”
“I’d love that,” I say in a hushed tone. “Thank you again for helping me. If there’s anything I can do—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, cutting me off. “There’s no need. You’re in need of help, and I’m more than happy to get you to that party to meet the boy you are so impressed with.”
I chuckle, the blush rising to my cheeks at the thought of Shawn Finch. “I’m more than impressed by him. He’s…” I’m not even sure what words to use to describe him. He’s just Finch. And he has no idea that I exist.
Tonight, I’ll make him notice me if it’s the last thing I do. I have one shot.
“I had that look about me when Mr. F. was alive,” she says, leading me up the stairs. “He swept me off my feet. I was about your age when we met.”
I take my place next to her as we make our ascent, the staircase wide enough to fit us both. “Sorry for your loss.”
“For such a young girl, you know a thing or two about loss, so I don’t need to tell you that the pain is always there and that some days are better than others.”
I nod. “I know what you mean. My mother passed away when I was ten years old and my father a few years ago.”
She places her hand on my back when we reach the top landing and guides me toward our destination. “You could use some love in your heart to replace the sadness. I’ll be rooting for you tonight.” Her smile is contagious, wide and bright, and having a mirroring effect on me.
“I just want one kiss from him. That’s all. For one night, I want him to look at me and see me if that makes sense.”
“Perfect sense,” she says, pushing open a bedroom door for us to enter. “But it’s never just one kiss, you know. I thought the same thing with my late husband, and then over fifty years later, I was packing up our house in North Carolina to move to Pennsylvania to deal with some unfinished business.”
She doesn’t offer more, and I don’t dare push her.
The bedroom has the most ornate wallpaper and woodwork I have ever seen. It’s as if someone transported a bedroom from The Great Gatsby, with its Art deco rugs and intricate designs that remind me of the 1920’s, to this house. By the looks of it, I assume whatever garments are inside the walk-in closet are equally as old as the rest of the décor. My mother loved vintage clothes. She would have loved this room even more than the gowns Mrs. F sifts through, sliding each hanger to the side until she finds the right one.
“Here it is,” she says, lifting the hanger from the rack to hold up a pale blue gown with a silver accent.
Overwhelmed by her choice, my hand reflexively covers my mouth, as my eyes widen at the beauty of this dress. “This is too much,” I mutter. “I can’t wear this to a party at a frat house. Someone will end up spilling beer on me, or someone will step on the hem. Too many things could happen. I just can't…”
She sighs. “You can and you will, my dear. I want you to wear this dress. It would mean the world to me if you do. It’s good luck, and I hope it will bring good luck to you. Lord knows you could use it.”
Lowering my hand from my face, the corners of my mouth turn up into a wide grin. This dress is everything I ever could have imagined and more. It holds a special place in Mrs. F’s heart, which makes me even more nervous about wearing it to the party. I’m so afraid of something happening outside of my control that my limbs tremble.
“How about I leave you to it?” Mrs. F. hands me the dress that I take with a shaky hand. “I’ll be waiting on the other side for you.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and then she disappears, closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The closet is more like an extension of the bedroom, with a chaise lounge in one corner, a chair in the other, and a long, ornate bench made of navy-and-white striped fabric. We have unused rooms like this one in my house that my stepmother had boarded up and left unattended now that she has stripped the beauty from every crevice of my childhood home. My mother would not recognize the place if she were alive to see the neglect.
I hang the dress on a hook, long enough to strip down to my underwear and lower Mrs. F.’s dress over my head. After I shove my arms through the holes and tug it down and in place, I stand in front of the mirror to appraise myself. I stare in awe of this gown and how it hugs each of my curves as if made for me.
Mrs. F was right about the dress. It’s perfect. I hope Finch loves it. Every time I think of Finch, I get giddy all over again. And nervous. He makes me super nervous when he’s just passing by my table in the library.
Is it weird to have feelings for someone who I have never spoken to? Probably. In fact, it makes me sound like a stalker. I’m not. But my chest gets tight every time he walks into the school library. My heart beats a little faster when I see him on my way to class or when he plays football on the lawn in the Quad with his fraternity brothers.
Shawn Finch is perfection in every way. Except for the fact that he’s doing bad in school. I could help him. If only I had him for tutoring.
When I step out from the closet, Mrs. F is sitting on the edge of the bed, facing me with a smile on her face. “It looks even better on you than it did on me. This boy will not know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
I consider what he might do to me and smile. I hope that Finch will be unable to keep his hands off me if he’s not already busy with another girl by the time I get there. The party started over an hour ago, and who knows how many girls have thrown themselves at him by now.
Mrs. F gets up with a mask in hand. “You said you were going to a masquerade and that mask you were going to wear just won’t do with this dress. You need something special, something that will make you stand out in the crowd.”
She moves closer, revealing a gorgeous glittery gold mask with purple accents and feathers that stick up on the left side. It looks so regal and refined as if owned by someone famous, the type of person who would own a room as elaborate as this one.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have impeccable taste?” I ask, as she lowers the mask over my eyes and adjusts the strap at the back of my head.
She chuckles in response.
Consumed by this moment, I almost forget that I’m Ella Fitzgerald, house slave to the witch next door. Tonight, I can be whoever I want. The longer I spend with Mrs. F, the clock ticks.
“I have to be home by midnight. Do you mind if I keep my mother’s dress somewhere to change back into before I go home? Clarissa will have a fit if she sees me in yours.”
“Don’t be silly, girl.” Mrs. F clamps her hand on my shoulder and smiles. “I’m a night owl. Ring the bell, and I will let you in to change before you go home. Don’t worry about your stepmother or anything else. Just find that boy and have a good time. Make this night about you instead of putting someone else first.”
“I wish you were my stepmother,” I blurt out. “I mean…”
She gives my shoulder one more tap in acknowledgment before she releases her grip on me and escorts me downstairs.
Once we reach the door, I take a deep breath and open it. A cool breeze smacks me in the face, sending chills throughout my body. I was so upset when I ran from my house that I’d forgotten to grab a jacket.
As if reading my mind, Mrs. F places a winter coat over my shoulders and helps me slide my arms into the holes. “How are you getting to the party, my dear?”
I hadn’t given that much thought. Considering I ride the bus, I will look like a lunatic in this outfit.
I shrug. “The bus, I guess.”
“Do you have a drivers license?”
“Yes, but I haven’t driven in three years. My stepmother took my car and sold it to buy one for her daughters.”
She lets an exaggerated sigh, shakes her head in disapproval, and removes a set of keys from her pocket. “You poor thing. Take my car.”
I push out my hand. “No, I couldn’t. You’ve done enough for me already.”
“Please, I would feel better if you use my car. Philadelphia public transportation at this hour is not safe for a girl like you, and you will be sure to attract attention in this gown.”
She’s right. The three buses I take to get to Strickland University in the daytime are bad enough, let alone the creatures that might lurk at night.
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
She slips the keys into my palm, and I close my fist over them, praying that I make it there in one piece and that nothing bad happens to the car or the dress. That would be my luck.
* * *
The ride to the fraternity house was rougher than I had imagined. Either I drive too slow, after all these years out of practice, or the people in this city drive too fast. They almost ran me off the road, inciting such fear inside me that my fingers trembled beneath the leather steering wheel the entire ride. Parked at the corner of Greek Row, I take a minute to compose myself before I get out of the red Mercedes coupe.
No one even blinks an eye when I click the lock button, and the lights flash in the darkness. Cars like this are a dime a dozen on this campus, despite how out of place I feel in one. As I walk toward the Delta Sig house, heat creeps up the back of my neck from all the stares aimed in my direction.
While the car might not stick out, I do in this dress and mask. It’s unlike anything the girls I pass have on, further drawing more attention to the fact that I don’t belong. At one time, I would have fit right in. But the Fitzgerald name no longer carries the same status it did when my dad was alive.
The looks I get from the people on the front lawn of the house create an uncomfortable silence. Even the man at the door, wearing a golden mask fit for a Roman Emperor, doesn’t bother to ask me for my name before I step through the open door.
Inside the house, screaming girls dance with each other and grind on their dates. I’d always wondered what a frat party would be like since I had never gone to one. Natasha and Anastasia are sisters at Kappa, the sluttiest sorority on campus. They fit right in, of course.
I should have known they would never welcome me into their world. When Clarissa had agreed to let me out of my room for the night, I should have known that her daughters would do her dirty work, as per the usual. She’s the type of woman who never raises her voice and always keeps a calm head, all while plotting something vicious. Her smiles are devices used to trick the mind into believing she has a heart or that she’s capable of showing anyone love, other than her two brats.
The DJ scratches the record, and people yell in protest, before their attention shifts to me, causing my cheeks to burn from the unwanted attention. I hate having people stare at me. I’d rather fade into the background and blend in with everyone else. But I came here with a mission—kiss Shawn Finch.
Scanning the room, it takes me a minute to find Finch. He’s not hard to miss with his strong arms and shoulders and dirty blond hair that’s always somewhat messy as if styled that way on purpose. I drink in every delicious part of him, working my way up from his muscular thighs to his thick chest, and stop at his handsome face.
Even with the mask covering his steel blue eyes, I see something flicker in them from across the room. He appraises every part of my body and licks his lips before he settles permanently on my face.
Does he recognize me? I sure hope not. The reason this party is the perfect opportunity to meet Finch is the rule about names. You can’t ask for one, and you don’t have to provide one. It seemed like the perfect plan when Tori had invited me. Now, I’m kind of glad that her phone kept ringing when I called to meet up because she would have introduced me to Finch as one of her friends.
I’d rather he not know my name or my link to Tori. It’s better this way. One night of pleasure with the man of my dreams, and then, I can go back to being me. We lock onto each other, ignorant to our surroundings. Getting Finch’s attention is much easier than I’d expected.
This is fate, I tell myself. This is supposed to happen.
That’s why my new next-door neighbor appeared at the right time, handed me the perfect dress, and now, I’m staring back at the perfect man.
I need to get him alone, though I have no idea where to lead him. Shuffling through the crowd, I dart through the sea of people and head toward the back of the house, allowing my instincts to guide me. To the left of the kitchen, I spot a hallway and stop. I look over my shoulder to find Finch pushing his way through the crowd to get to me.
My feet move fast on the slick tile floor, despite wearing five-inch stilettos. It’s been years since I’ve worn anything other than jeans or the occasional hand me down dress. So, I’m surprised how well I can walk in these heels. Oddly enough, I feel just as confident in them as my usual pair of sneakers.
Checking over my shoulder every few feet, I see Finch moving through the crowded hall with a purpose. He’s chasing after me just as I had hoped. Everything is falling into place. So, I think when I turn a corner, only to hit a dead end. Where I thought I’d find stairs, there’s a locked door with the kind of lock you need a key to open.
Yanking on the knob, I give it a few tugs, even though I know I’m stuck and will soon have to face Finch. Before I can spin around, I hear footsteps, followed by someone touching my hip.
My breath hitches when he dips down to speak against the shell of my ear. “You look lost, princess. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing all by herself?”
The heat from his breath warms my earlobe. I cannot move, think, or talk. I take in his masculine scent, the sound of his husky voice, and his fingers that dig into my side. He pulls me back and into his chest, the grip he has on me tightening, not forceful but more protective. It’s as if Finch has claimed me.
“I was looking for the bathroom.” What a liar.
“I can take you if you want.”
I close my eyes and allow his voice to command control over my body. The soft moan that escapes my lips serves as my response.
“I have nothing but time for you.”
His words sound like a line, but I don’t care. Lines are what I had expected from a guy like Finch. I want the full illusion tonight, even if that’s all it will ever be.
“How come you’re touching me?” I mutter, afraid to turn around and face him.
“How come you’re letting me?” He spits back, and I can hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Because…” My train of thought of disappears along with my inhibitions when he leans down to plant kisses on my neck.
He knows I want this. I want him and everything he’s willing to give me in return.
It’s as if he can sense the need that burns inside me, craving every single touch from him. His hand moves up from my waist, his fingers feeling my ribs, the side of my breast, and eventually land on my jaw. Finch tilts my head back so that our eyes meet, and my lips part for him.
He traces his thumb along my jaw and then rolls it over my lips. “I know you,” he says, his voice deep and guttural.
“You don’t,” I croak. “This is the first time we have met.”
“How do you know? I haven’t told you my name.”
“You’re not supposed to tell me,” I point out. “That would defeat the point of the party, now wouldn’t it?”
Finch smirks. “You’ve got me there, Princess.”
“I’m no princess,” I spit back.
“You look like one in this dress, and since I don’t know your name, I have to call you something.”
“You don’t have to call me anything.” This dress must be giving me a set of brass balls because I am never this forward with anyone.
He rubs his thumb across my lips once more and then returns to holding my face in his big hand. “How about beautiful? That’s what you are.”
Since he’s staying true to form and going with the flow, I feel brave and so unlike myself that it’s a nice change of pace. Maybe this is the way I would be had it not been for my stepmother and stepsisters making my life a living hell.
“This is nothing like I had planned,” I confess.
“No?” His tone indicates a question.
“It’s so much better.”
Without another word, a fire lights behind those steel blue eyes, and Finch whirls me around and into his arms. He presses my back against the cold door, and his fingers find their place once more on my hips.
Holding me with one look, he hesitates before I say, “I came here for a kiss.”
His eyebrows rise in confusion. “From me or anyone?”
I nod. “You. I want one from you.”
“But you don’t know me, remember?”
Running my hands up his chest, I slip them inside his suit jacket and feel the contours of his muscles over the white oxford. “I know who you are Shawn Finch. So, how about you kiss me already?”
“That’s not fair,” he says. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“You’re not hard to spot, even in a mask.”
“I guess there’s no point in wearing this thing,” he says, pulling the mask from his face. “It’s scratchy as fuck, anyway.” He shoves it into his pocket before he reaches up to touch mine.
I clamp my hands down on his wrists to stop him. “Not so fast. I never said anything about removing mine.”
“You know my name and what I look like, yet I can’t even take off your mask? I’m sure what’s underneath is just as beautiful as what I can see with it on.”
“Nice try, Finch.” Damn, I’m ballsy tonight. “Let me ask you something, and that will determine my answer.”
“Okay, shoot.” His hands are still on my mask, and I pray that he doesn’t use his man strength to peel it off.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes,” he grunts, “so fucking bad.”
“Then, I have rules.”
He nods, telling me to keep going.
“I don’t want you to know my name. I don’t want you to take off my mask, but, if you happen to get me out of this dress, I guess all bets are off. But you will never know anything about me. Are you okay with that?”
“More than okay, as long as I get to have you.”
“Then let go of my mask,” I demand because Finch is not taking this off me without a fight.
He lowers his hands along with mine and then releases me from his grasp. The electricity that pulses between us is palpable, all too consuming in such a small space. Without warning, he slides his hands up my arms, leaving a trail of tiny dots that prick my skin. The warmth from his skin leeches into mine and spreads like wildfire inside me.
My body aches for him, every movement he makes going straight to my core. I want him to touch me, hold me, and kiss me in all the right places. This moment is worth every bit of humiliation and hassle it took to get here. I knew Finch was worth the risk. Even though he’s one of the sport's elite on campus, he’s not one of them in the same sense as his teammates or fraternity brothers. He lacks the financial means they have, which makes him more like me than them.
We share this connection. It’s so intense and real, like two live wires joined together, creating sparks when Finch dips down to kiss me on the lips, invading my mouth with his tongue. At first, he’s tender and soft, with each kiss growing more passionate and determined, as he sets his hand on the back of my head to deepen the kiss.
So much is happening between my legs with just one kiss. But it’s so much more. From the moment I saw Finch, this kiss was everything I wanted. I say a silent prayer while he devours me with his tongue that he feels what I do for him, and that I’m not just imagining the instant connection we’re forging, as we allow our bodies to do the talking.