Chapter Twelve: Cinderella

Earlier that morning, in the wee hours before anyone else had stirred, Izzy wrote a letter to her family. She'd planned on calling, but in the end, she couldn't work up the nerve to do it. Writing seemed a better way to capture everything she wanted to say to them.

Through her own tears, she'd written a blessing for her baby sister, Jane. She wanted her mother to know that she hadn't run from the baby, she'd run from her own baby, who still lived in her heart, but whom she could never speak of. Putting the words on paper seemed to lift a weight from her that had been there for a long time.

With that settled, her mind was left to hash out the events of the night before. She'd collapsed in the plush bed of the guest room when she came home from the party and a good night's sleep helped to put things in perspective.

Rita couldn't go through another pregnancy on her own. If she told her the truth about Warren, it was possible that that was exactly what might happen. He was promising to take care of her and maybe—maybe that was what mattered the most.

The thought made Izzy feel a little emptier inside, similar to when a child finds out that Santa isn't real. Unfortunately, living at Saint Mary's Home for Unwed Mothers had taught her that fairytales were for books and movies—not real life.

Later that morning, they sat out on the gazebo by the pool and ate a leisurely breakfast served by Warren's housekeeper, Lucia. The curvy, middle aged Mexican woman took great pride in her arrangements. A centerpiece of fresh fruit in a spiraling design adorned the table, surrounded by steaming eggs, sausage, and pastries of all shapes and sizes.

Although Warren's coddling towards Rita was causing her stomach turn, Izzy couldn't help but revel in the beauty of the glistening pool, the airy sounds of the birds singing; and most of all, how happy Rita was.

Rita was living the life of a princess, something they'd all dreamed of at one time or another, during the dark, cold nights in the stone prison. None of them had every dared to hope those dreams would come true, but for Rita, they had.

After breakfast, Warren kissed Rita goodbye and set off to the studio. She told Izzy he'd just started filming a new movie and a lot of money had been invested in it.

"He's very passionate about his work," she'd explained,her voice full of admiration. "He puts every ounce of himself into it. Sometimes at night I'll wake up to find he's up writing down an idea that came to him in his sleep. He won't rest until everything is absolutely perfect. He's really brilliant at what he does."

Izzy guessed she spent quite a bit of time alone.

Rita lent her a bathing suit and they spent the early afternoon swimming and lounging by the pool. Lucia served grilled sandwiches and salad near noon. It was amazing how easy it was to forget all of her troubles in the paradise of Rita's surreal life.

After lunch, Rita insisted they go into town to shop for their evening at Ciros. Warren's chauffeur was at her beck and call. The shiny black Bentley pulled up to the house minutes after she telephoned him.

"Really, Rita, I have things to wear," Izzy said as she took the drivers hand and climbed out of the car. She followed her down the sidewalk of the shopping strip to the golden door of an designer dress shop. "I don't need anything else. You've already done so much for me."

Rita turned. "In case you haven't noticed, Gene was falling all over you last night. Tonight you're going to knock his socks off."

They entered the store and Izzy almost gasped at the price tag of the first dress she slipped her hand over. "I'm not interested in impressing Gene, or any other man right now. I came here for your wedding."

A tall, slender woman with cropped gray hair and cats eyes glasses came floating out from in between the racks. Her eyes swept over them, as if assessing whether or not they belonged in the elite store. She cleared her throat. "May I help you?"

"Yes," said Rita. "We're looking for something special for my friend here, Izzy. Something unique and elegant." She glanced at Izzy, a slight gleam in her eyes. "Not to risqué, but enough to suggest."

The woman's eyes narrowed on Izzy. "There's a department store a few blocks down the street—."

The girls exchanged glances. Rita turned to the woman, smiling. "Perhaps I should introduce myself first. I'm Rita Stone—well, very soon to be Stone. Warren's fiancé."

The older woman straightened. "Oh! My apologies, my dear. Let me see—." Pulling a measuring tape from her pocket, she circled around Izzy, measuring her waist and bust. She stepped back, and Izzy blushed as her eyes seemed to scrutinize every inch of her. "I'll be right back." She hurried off to the back of the store.

Izzy giggled when she was gone. "My goodness, Rita, you're a star."

Rita shrugged as she pulled a dress out from the rack. "Izzy, I know how you feel, believe me. It's hard to learn to trust someone again. But if you don't let yourself do it, you may be missing out on the man who was really meant for you."

Izzy's mouth went dry. Rita had let herself trust Warren and he'd betrayed her.

"And—it's a sure way to make Wes jealous," Rita added with a sly smile.

Izzy frowned. "I don't think he even recognized me. And if he did, he's probably furious that I catapulted his fiancé into the pool."

Rita's nose wrinkled. "You never did tell me how that happened."

Izzy had hoped she wouldn't ask. "I've been trying to forget. I was feeling dizzy after the alcohol—then I felt like I would vomit. So, I was running for the bathroom and she just stepped in front of me."

Rita's eyebrows raised, as if she knew there was more, then she laughed. "I kind of wish I'd been there to see that."

The gray haired woman came back with an armful of dresses, a sweet smelling perfume floating along with her. "Since it's such short notice, I'm not able to design anything in time. With that said, these just came in from Paris. Each one is original and has its own flair. Any one of these will flatter your coloring and figure."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Try them on," said Rita taking them from the woman.

As soon as the she left, Izzy ran a hand over the intrinsic fabric of one of the dresses. "I didn't bring enough money for any of these," she whispered.

"I have a monthly allowance," Rita said, pushing her towards the dressing room. "And I haven't been motivated to spend it, until now." She stopped, catching Izzy by surprise as she wrapped her arms around her. "I'm just so glad you're here, Izzy. I didn't realize until you came how much I've been longing for a friend."

On her own in the curtained dressing room, Izzy immediately fell in love with the first dress she slipped into. She'd never worn a dress that fit her figure so perfectly, as if it were tailored for her. A strapless light pink gown that accented her thin waist with long elegant, satin pink gloves. It was perfectly fitted to her blossom and derrière, a sight that brought a red hue to her cheeks. Regardless, she couldn't deny the feeling of satisfaction and perhaps—power it gave her.

"Oh my goodness!" Rita jumped up and down when she came out from behind the curtain. "This is the one! It was made for you!"

The woman happily accepted payment. Izzy cringed at the amount, it was more than her father made in a month.

As they left the store, Izzy stole a glance at Rita's thin waist as Warren's words the night before turned in her mind. She knew Rita she didn't plan to tell her. She, like Izzy, understood the pain they'd gone through far too well. If it were her, she would have done the same.

Back out on the walkway, Rita put her hands on her shoulders. "Long hair is for school girls nowadays," she said, running a finger through Izzy's dark curls. "A shorter cut will make you look much more refined and men will take you seriously."

Izzy opened her mouth to object, but Rita was determined. She lead her a few stores down to a small hair salon. For a steep price, an enthusiastic young stylist cut and styled Izzy's hair in Hollywood's latest fashion.

Back at Rita's home, Izzy slipped on the dress, marveling at her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was unrecognizable to the pale, hollow eyed girl that had been there only a few months ago. She shivered, remember how dark her life had become after she'd had the baby.

Now, her skin was glowing and full of life, the amber flecks in her dark eyes radiated through and her shorter hair fell and spiraled perfectly around her face.

Dottie would have been delighted, she was a real life Cinderella—only she wasn't expecting to meet Prince Charming—and in another week she'd be back to her old life again, not living in a castle.

Despite all of her newfound confidence, she was racked with nerves when they pulled into the nightclub's drive. It was a perfect night, with a gentle breeze that caressed her exposed skin. She could hear the band playing jumbled with the excited voices of the regally dressed ladies and gentlemen lined up to get in.

Rita grabbed her hand as they passed through the pillared entrance, excitement all over her face. The bouncer at the door looked the two of them over, letting out a whistle as he waved them in. "Ciros is hopping with lovely ladies tonight," he said as they passed.

Izzy forgot she was holding her breath as her eyes swept over the festive place. A red curtained stage wrapped around the hazy dining area. Stars she'd only ever seen on television sat at tables with drinks in their hands, shouting and laughing above the lilting saxophone and swinging snare of the band on stage.

"Over here," called Rita pulling her towards the front of the stage where Gene and Hank were waving to them from a table.

Gene's grin faltered a bit as they approached, his eyes taking on a warm glow. "Izzy—wow—you are breathtaking." He pulled out a chair for her.

Hank hurried around the table, pulling out a chair for Rita. "And you're stunning as usual," he said. "Warren's a lucky man."

Izzy noticed Rita shift uncomfortably. They hadn't expected to sit with just the two men by themselves. She also noticed that Gene's eyes hadn't left her.

"So, what are your plans?" he said, leaning forward. "How long are you planning to stay around?"

"I only planned to stay until after the wedding." As soon as she said the words, part of her wondered if she would be able to survive her life back at home after Hollywood.

Gene sat back, taking a sip of his drink. "You're like an enigma. Suddenly you appear out of nowhere and then you're gone again."

"Girls like that have secrets," Hank said, casting her a sly look as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"I love this song," said Rita, changing the subject.

Izzy hadn't noticed that the singer was black. She'd heard him on the radio a few times before, but had always assumed he was white. He was handsome, with big hair and a velvety voice. Women were swooning over him—swooning over a black man. Nothing like that ever happened in her hometown. She found herself thinking of Francine, then quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

"He's one cool cat," said Gene. "Whatcha think Hank? Maybe we should ask him to join us? Ol' lover boy over there has pretty much written us off at this point, anyhow." He nodded his head towards the back of the room.

Izzy's heart fluttered as she followed his direction, coming eye to eye with Wes. How long had he been staring at her? The look on his face was one of pure indignance. Quickly, she turned, pretending not to notice. Patsy was sitting beside him.There was no doubt that they were both still furious with her over the night before.

"That would make Corbin's blood boil," said Hank. "But, I'll bet you he'd find a replacement for us within hours."

"Betcha old Judd would take us back," said Gene.

"Not after what we did to him." Hank huffed, guzzling his drink.

"What did happen with you and Judd?" Izzy asked, desperate to pretend she hadn't recognized the dark eyed man in the back of the room.

"Patsy happened," said Gene, rolling his eyes. "Convinced us Judd wasn't good enough. Biggest mistake of our lives." He threw back the rest of his drink. "I regret the day we introduced those two. Wes didn't even want to go out that night, he still had his heart set on meeting you again. But, we thought it'd be good for him. We never thought he'd see you again."

Izzy stomach fluttered at the thought that she was in Wes' mind after the island. She'd never dared to hope that their brief encounter meant enough to linger past that day.

Gene sighed, wiping his brow. "So, we signed with Corbin at RCA. But, the guy only sees green. He doesn't care who he has to step on to get a dollar. There's no loyalty. It didn't take us long to realize that Corbin's money came with a lot of strings attached. Wes and Patsy are his biggest puppets. Everything they do, he orchestrates it. Somewhere between Corbin and Patsy, Wes has changed. He's not the same guy we used to know."

"Corbin tries to do it with us too," said Hank. "Told us not to be seen with you after what happened last night. Might be bad publicity for Patsy."

Gene glared at him. "I thought I told you not to bring that up."

Hank shrugged.

Izzy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I'm sorry. You should have told me, I would have understood." She turned to Rita. "We should go. I don't want to cause any trouble."

Gene placed his hand on hers before she could stand. "You are definitely not causing me any trouble. At least—not in the way you think. I can handle Corbin."

"Cigar?" A slightly familiar voice gave her pause, coming from the table behind them.

She turned at the same time as Rita, coming face to face with Gloria. The three of them froze, staring at each other in bewilderment.

"Gloria?" Her name escaped Rita's mouth in a gasp.

Gloria was just as stunned as the two of them, her green eyes wide—blinking. "What—,"she started. "What are the two of you doing here? In Hollywood—together?"

"Gosh! It's a long story! I can't believe this! Gloria, you're here!" Rita broke into tears, triggering Izzy to follow after her as the two men looked on, completely lost.

The three girls threw their arms around each other, laughing and crying at the same time. It was as if everyone in the room fading away, leaving just the three of them, the memories they shared so strong they were nearly palpable between them. There were so many things they wanted to say—yet so much of it had to be left unsaid under the circumstances.

Hank cleared his throat. "Mind introducing us to your friend?"

"This is Gloria," said Izzy, her eyes shining with tears as she turned to them. "We all met on the island this summer. We never thought we'd see each other again. It's wild that we're all here now."

"Wow, that's some island," said Hank, giving Gloria a once over.

"And this is Hank and Gene," Rita said with a laugh.

"Yes, I know. The Flames," said Gloria, straightening. "I had the pleasure of meeting your lead man Wes and his haughty girlfriend a few minutes ago."

"You have a very good sense of character," said Hank with crooked smile, admiration all over his face.

"Hey baby, where's my cigar?" An older man sitting at a table behind them grabbed Gloria's wrist, starling her.

She spun around, pulling away from his grasp. "Hold your horses, lover boy, I'll be right there."

"Look kitten, you're a cigarette girl, not a socialite," the man said, seeming put off and a little drunk. "Get me my cigar or I'll get the manager."

Izzy's heart started to thump as she recognized a familiar expression make its way across Gloria's face.

She smacked her hands on his table, leaning in to stare him in the face. "Look here, old man. I'm not your kitten. And if you grab me again, a cigar will be the least of your worries."

A collective gasp came from the crowd that accompanied him at his table and the man stood, wavering. "Do you know who I am? I'm Jerry Davis."

"I don't care if you're the Pope himself," snapped Gloria.

Another gasp. This time from Izzy and Rita as well.

"Why you little whore—."

The chairs squealed against the ground and Hank and Gene were on their feet. Hank worked himself in between Gloria and the raging star.

"That's no way to talk to a lady," he said.

"She's no lady."

"Why? Because she isn't falling for you? A man twice her age?"

Out of the blue, Jerry's fist swung at Hank, knocking him against the table. Izzy screamed as the drinks spilled and clattered to the ground. A sharp squeal of the saxophone, then a momentary pause in the music as the band tried to ignore the spectacle forming in front of them.

"Now you've done it!" Hank pulled himself up, his fist connecting with the man's face, knocking him to the ground.

Out of nowhere, another man came barreling towards Hank with a chair. Gene stepped forward, throwing a punch. Jerry was up again and fists were suddenly flying everywhere.

In the midst of it all, Izzy turned to see Wes standing next to her, his jaw set tight in anger.

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