dropped open.
“Good show.” Freddie began to clap.
“Did I understand you correctly, Prince Valkyir?” Ms. Crane squeaked. She quickly cleared her throat without moving the microphone away. It sounded like a roll of thunder barreled across the room. “You bid one million dollars?”
“One million, yes. Is that acceptable? Callie seemed particularly fond of the little statue.”
“Oh, that’s…yes…wonderful. Well done!” She laid down her microphone, and clapped her hands. Everyone in the room joined in.
“This isn’t keeping a low profile,” Callie frantically whispered as she leaned over, keeping a smiled pasted on her face.
Ms. Crane marched over, and personally handed the jaguar to Callie.
“I will have someone deliver the money tomorrow, if that is acceptable?” Rogar told her.
Ms. Crane still seemed to be in a daze. “Yes, that will be fine.”
“I think I’ll just go and freshen up a bit,” Callie said as the people in the room settled back into their seats. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Sheesh, Rogar was going to give Ms. Crane a million in counterfeit money. If she ever discovered the ruse, Callie was sure to go to jail. This was definitely not good.
She went inside one of the stalls and closed the door, plopping down on the toilet seat. They shouldn’t have come. So what if they would’ve been snubbing the cream of society. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t snubbed her a zillion times or more.
She dropped her head down to her hands. She knew exactly why she’d wanted to come tonight—to get a little back. She wanted to be the one who came out on top for a change.
It had felt good, too. It probably shouldn’t have, but it did. Did that make her a bad person? Probably.
But she hadn’t known Rogar was going to bid a million dollars on the jaguar. She sighed deeply. It was a beautiful piece. A smile curved her lips. And he’d gotten it for her. He must’ve sensed how much she wanted it.
There was the little matter of buying it with fake money, but it really was the thought that counted.
She was as bad as him.
Maybe she could give it back and say they had changed their minds. That might work. She would probably have to grovel. Bleh, that left a sour taste in her mouth.
She stilled when some women came into the bathroom talking about the auction.
“Can you believe how much was bid on the little tiger figurine?”
“Don’t you think he’s just the hottest guy in the room?” One of the women asked. Callie didn’t recognize her voice, but her words made her preen just a bit. Rogar was hot. And even better, he was all hers—for a little while.
“Soooo hot! He must love Callie a lot to spend that much on her.”
Pfftt. Of course he didn’t love her. Liked maybe, but certainly not love. Still, warm tingles swirled inside her stomach.
“I doubt it’s love. More like infatuation.”
Callie grimaced. She recognized that voice—Constance.
“I mean, really, he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim her as his fiancée,” Constance continued. “He’s a prince from a foreign country. What the hell does she know about polite society?”
“True,” one of the women chimed in. “Remember when she showed up the first time with DeeDee? I really doubt she’d ever had a manicure in her life.”
“And her bathing suit had to have come from Wal-Mart,” another giggled.
Callie knew they were right. Her suit had come from a discount store, and she had never had a manicure. She always did them herself because it was all she could afford.
“He’ll dump her,” Constance continued. “Just wait and see. She’s a little slut pretending to be something she’s not.”
They left the bathroom.
Callie sat there. They were right. Except about the slut part. And even if she went back to New Symtaria with Rogar, they wouldn’t be a couple or anything. He was a prince, and she wasn’t anything, except a pauper.
Just plain Callie Jordon. Even her name had been given to her by the woman who ran the orphanage. Maybe she had known red tape would keep Callie from being adopted, so it was better to go ahead and give her at least that.
But damn it, Constance had no right to put her down. She was a mean bitch who thought every one was beneath her. Poor Freddie had been taking her crap for years. Someone should put a stop to her behavior. Make her see what it’s like to feel embarrassed and out of place.
She gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists, imagining what it would feel like to punch her lights out. If she could she’d…
Callie gasped, doubling over and grabbing her middle. Oh, God, what was happening? She was dying. The food had been tainted. Maybe Constance had added poison to Callie’s. She wouldn’t put it past her.
Through a haze of pain, she felt something familiar. Oh, no, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. She hadn’t been thinking about an animal. Why was she shifting? Fog filled the stall. She drew in her arms and legs close to her body as the room began to go dark.
Slowly the deep ache inside her began to subside, and everything returned to normal. Well, except everything was dark. She blinked, then looked down at her feet. Only, she didn’t have any. Had something gone wrong? Maybe she’d lost her legs during the transition, and she’d have to drag herself out to Rogar…eww…with stumps where her legs used to be.
No, wait, there they were, except she was apparently standing on the toilet. Her legs were actually long… and skinny. She raised her arm.
Wings?
She was a bird. Bird wasn’t bad. It sure beat rhino, although the thought of squashing Constance had merit.
She experimented and flapped her wings, almost losing her balance. That was a close call. Okay, she needed to see what had happened. She wobbled, but made it to the top of the stall door, and bumped her head on the ceiling. What the hell? She perched there for a few moments while she regained her balance.
Better.
Now to get to the counter. She took a deep breath, then took off. It turned out to be more of a long jump, rather than bird in flight.
She stared at the mirror.
Oh, this was just freakin’ great. She couldn’t have shifted into a pretty little dove, or a cute parakeet? No, she was a pink flamingo with long spindly legs. She turned to the right and got a full side view. Her plumage was a soft pink and, in some places, deep red. She looked like a Vegas showgirl. Minus the sexy part.
Callie pranced down the counter, then turned, tail feathers ruffling. Not bad, for a novice.
The bathroom door opened and a very matronly woman ploughed inside. She took one look at Callie, and screamed as she fled. The door swung violently back and forth. Callie caught glimpses of the people at the tables watching the woman, their expressions a mixture of shock and surprise.
Not good! Everyone would be in the bathroom in just a few seconds. How the hell would she explain she’d shifted into a bird? No, not good! As the door swung out, she went the same direction.
Maybe this wasn’t good, either. Everyone stared at her. She was so not the life of the party. She looked at Rogar, who hurried to the French doors and opened them wide. Bless him.
She flapped her wings and took flight. Probably not as graceful as a real flamingo, but not too bad if she said so herself.
This was cool. The screams from the women, and some of the men, were rather annoying, but flying was cool. She flew over Constance and her bitches, then turned back. When she flew over the next time, Constance looked up.
Bombs away!
