Page 6 of The Reverse Cinderella

And Piaget really didn’t know how to date. Gary had been her one and only. They had dated for a half a year and then he’d proposed. He’d done everything, the chasing, the asking, the paying. Piaget gone along with it and thought her future was set.

Big laugh that was.

Piaget waited for her turn in a stall and swapped out the soaking shirt for the dry one after she toweled herself off as best as she could with toilet paper. She smelled of beer. Some men would say that was sexy. Piaget thought it was gross. In the old days she would have thrown out the shirt and bought another later. These days she wrung it out as best as she could, wrapped it in toilet paper and shoved it into her bag. She would wash it and see if it was salvageable.

With a sigh Piaget exited the stall and looked into the bathroom mirror to see the now familiar wrinkle stare back from her forehead. Only now she had a wrinkled shirt on that was far too big for her to match. Too casual as well since she was wearing heels. Too bad, it was all that she had, she reflected. To give herself confidence, Piaget put on another layer of mascara and swiped the lip gloss over her lips. There. Squaring her shoulders in the ridiculously large Henley, she pushed the sleeves up to her elbows and hoped it wouldn’t keep trying to fall off one of her shoulders.

There was nothing else to do so she left the safety of the washroom to rejoin the group who were listening with awe to Max. Without skipping a beat, he offered his leg for Piaget to perch on again and kept up the animated narrative.

“Brian was stuck. He couldn’t get out. His arms were tangled straight up in the parachute that had gone wrong and we were maybe five thousand feet in the air. If he couldn’t get untangled and get the emergency chute out he was going to die when he hit the earth. The problem was, the wind kept the bunched up parachute above his head and he didn’t have the strength the pull it down. No one did. He was lucky it hadn’t ripped off his arms.

“The ground was getting closer and I thought, he’s screwed. I hadn’t pulled my chute and I was the only one besides Brian that was plummeting that fast. I did the only thing I could do.” As Piaget sat, he wrapped an arm around her again lightly wresting a hand on her hip. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“Thanks. And thank you for the loan of it,” she replied.

The entire group leaned forward, waiting to see what he’d say as he took a sip of beer.

“What did you do?!” Adam all but screamed, needing to know right now.

Max smiled. “I had my pocket knife on me and I cut the parachute so Brian’s arms were free. I pulled the string that lets a damaged parachute release then pulled the emergency chute. Brian rocketed upward and I waited long enough for him to clear before pulling my own cord for my parachute. Brian ended up with two dislocated shoulders. I broke an ankle and dislocated my knee when I landed, but hey, what are friends for?”

The group murmured with awe and amazement over Max’s off handed bravery. Piaget herself was impressed and hoped he wasn’t just making the story up. Even if he was, it was a great one and no wonder the kids bought him drinks if he was giving that quality of entertainment every week.

“Skydiving?” Piaget asked.

“I used to,” Max smiled.

“Max used to do a lot of things. Skydiving, mountain snowboarding, scuba diving for shipwrecks.” Adam had a bit of a case of hero worship it was easy to see.

Max laughed. “Now I’m too old for all that stuff. It’s a young guy thing. Plus, I feel every bone I’ve ever broken each time there’s rain.”

“Wish I could do that sort of stuff,” Adam gulped down some beer.

Sasha agreed, “I’d be too afraid, but it sounds awesome.”

“You can,” Max was confident and at Adam’s look of disbelief he continued, “If you can swim, you can snorkel. If you can snorkel, you can scuba. You might not be a skier, but skydiving is all about pulling the chute at the right time and being safe. It’s thrilling.”

There was more conversation and more alcohol and nachos flowed. Piaget had to admit, it was a pretty good time and she really wasn’t all that uncomfortable sitting perched on Max’s leg. Finally, Piaget had to call it a night. She was getting tired and she had to work at the café tomorrow. The kids elected to stay but Max walked with her outside.

“Why don’t I walk you home?” he asked.

“It’s okay,” Piaget assured him. She had only just met him and her mother’s voice of warning about all sorts of freaks to avoid was racing through her head even though he’d been a perfect gentleman all night long. “I’ve walked home plenty of times.”

“In this neighborhood at this time of night?” Max shook his head. “No, you definitely should have me walk you home. I won’t come in your building, just make sure you get in okay.”

“Then who will walk you home?” Piaget raised an eyebrow. “Or is this a double standard thing?”

“Definitely a double standard thing. How else do I get to be the hero if I don’t get to walk you home?” Max swung an arm around her shoulders. He was very friendly. Of course, it could be the slight buzz speaking. “Everyone should have the chance to be a hero. I recommend it. Unfortunately, it has a downside.”

“What’s the downside?” Piaget rolled her eyes and pulled his arm off her shoulders. She decided he was harmless as she hooked her arm through his as they walked.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “It’s addictive.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Max nodded. “I think I had one too many. Usually I don’t. Drink this much, I mean.”

“It makes you very happy,” Piaget said as she pulled him across the street when the light changed. “Are you a hero a lot?”