Page 3 of The Reverse Cinderella

“Why don’t you just come yourself?” Piaget asked.

“And be your plus one? No thanks, I’m in the middle of my masterpiece.” Dix ran a rag and cleaner over the counter. “Besides, how else are you going to meet someone?”

Dix was always in the middle of a masterpiece. To be fair, she did really good art and Piaget knew that someday she would be pointing to her friend saying, ‘I knew her before she was famous’. Until then, Dix basically devoted her life to the café, her art and trying to deal with her psychologist parents who were far too supportive of their daughter. Dix avoided her parents as much as possible. Piaget had a feeling she also avoided almost everyone else as much as possible too.

“Not the plan. Just a fun night out. Unless I stay in and study. Which is what I will probably end up doing anyways,” Piaget sighed. Life was dull. She was making progress, working towards her goal, but it was a little boring. She knew that being in the top ten of her class was going to be critical to getting into an internship that would propel her onto the airwaves, but it wasn’t exactly glamourous studying about rules and regulations. Shrugging, she ignored the voice in her head that wanted to have fun at Barneys and kept up with the steady flow of customers coming in for the supper hour.

Four hours later Piaget was home. She lingered at the mirror in her tiny apartment bathroom, ignoring the steady dripping from the bathroom sink and critically eyed her body. She felt she had put on the freshman fifteen, only on her it was more like twenty. It was hard to keep the weight off though. She’d reached that age where it just seemed to want to stay and Piaget had no time for eating or exercising right. She was no longer a size three. If it weren’t for the fact that she had not much money for food she would probably have gained fifty pounds because when she was depressed, she ate and Gary had given her a lot to be depressed about. Wasn’t walking great exercise? It wasn’t like going to the gym, but she walked pretty much everywhere since she could no longer afford a car with a driver. Yes, Piaget had been spoiled, she knew. She couldn’t afford the gym nor the trainer anymore either. Maybe she would pick up one of those home videos, a DVD workout. That would work, she reasoned.

Piaget leaned forward and eyed a new wrinkle creeping across her forehead without permission. She tried to rub it out with her hand but of course that didn’t work. It wasn’t like her finger was a magic eraser. She missed Dr. Leonard and botox so much.

Piaget was getting older, had no prospects, no kids, a wad of debt and loans, and now wrinkles and excess fat. If Gary were still alive she’d ask for liposuction but that was no longer an option. Ask ha, she’d demand it. What a step-down life had given her, she reflected.

She looked at the pile of textbooks and her computer. She should study. This was the first Friday night off she’d had in weeks and she should make good use of it, but Piaget couldn’t find any motivation. With a sigh she moved to her closet and remembered that top she had gotten from the thrift store a couple of weeks back. She’d gone from Saks to Salvation Army. But the top was cute and called to her even though she really had nowhere appropriate to wear it.

Then again…

Piaget slipped it on and went back to the mirror. With the discount jeans and a pair of heels, maybe a quick brush of her hair, an extra layer of mascara, and she’d be ready to go. Barneys, here I come, she thought.

It’s been years since she’d been to a college party and by the time she got to Barneys it was packed. The bar was four-deep in people trying to get drinks, pay for drinks, and get their drinks back to their table. The music was loud and the wait for any food long. She would be lucky to get a chair. Threading her way through the crowd there was a sudden cheer from her left and she saw Adam with friends waving at her excitedly.

Part of her was flattered that they wanted her to join their group this much. They’d even saved a seat for Piaget. Then she was bumped from behind and a guy with an enormous tray of drinks sidled past her, putting down the tray on the table and taking the available seat. Everyone reached forward to grab their drinks and Adam waved Piaget over.

“You made it,” Adam shouted. “We have beer if you’d like some.”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m more of a wine drinker,” she shouted back.

“Hey, take my spot and I’ll get you a glass,” the beer guy yelled. He was rather cute in a grungy, haven’t showered or shaved in a week way. Older than the regular college crowd, more Piaget’s age.

“That’s okay,” Piaget said. “I can get it.”

“No, you’ll get crushed or worse yet, some guy will hit on you before I can,” he grinned at her and offered his chair. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks.” It was hard to turn him down. He was rather handsome when he smiled like that. Plus, it was the only available chair and she had no intention of standing all night in these shoes.

“What kind of wine?” his voice said beside her ear as he leaned down to catch her answer.

“Chateau Margaux…” Piaget stopped herself. Sometimes it was hard to remember that the places she went to wouldn’t have such wines and even if they did there was no way she could afford a bottle that equated the amount of her monthly rent. “Sorry, house brand, red.”

“Will do.” Within a moment he was lost in the crowd.

“Isn’t he hot?” one of the girls asked, giggling.

“Oh, Max is a little old for you,” Adam grinned then winked at Piaget. “I was hoping to set him up with Piaget here. In fact, I think he likes her already.”

“Adam,” Piaget warned. “I’m not looking for anyone right now.”

“Hey, you never know,” he said innocently to her.

“We met Max a couple of weeks ago. Every time we come here it’s such a crush that we just pay for his beer and he gets us our drinks. Makes it so much easier,” Mariah said. “Plus, he’s a lot of fun to hang around.”

“You just met him and hang out with him now?” Piaget asked. Part of her was surprised by the casual acceptance these kids had with others. Didn’t anyone warn them that people could be serial killers? She tried to shoo her mother’s cynical voice out of her head, but it persisted. What did an older guy want with a bunch of college kids anyhow? Wasn’t it sort of creepy? Never mind that she was an older woman hanging with them, since she was technically a college attendee too.

“Sure, we met him at the park on Elm street.” Mariah cupped her hand under a nacho loaded with cheese and veggies as she brought it to her mouth. “Mmmm, you have got to try these they are so good.”

“Like Freddy Krueger Elm Street?” once again Piaget’s mouth ran ahead of her brain. She grimaced after she made the comment.

“Hunh?” Six pairs of puzzled eyes looked at her.