The Body Finder

A really, really sexy fairy tale.

Her mom helped Violet to pin back her hair, leaving wisps of strategic curls to fall loose, framing her delicate porcelain face perfectly. And for the first time, probably ever, Violet was grateful not to have the same stick-straight hair that all the other girls had. Her eyes were striking, with smoky charcoal liner and a luscious coat of lash-lengthening mascara that outlined the flecked emerald green of her irises. The color in her cheeks had little to do with the makeup she wore, since she was flushed with excitement.

Her dad poked his head in just as her mom was crouching down to help her fasten the tiny buckle of her shoe, the final touch.

He whistled approvingly. “I’m starting to have second thoughts again. I’m not sure I should be letting you out of the house like this.” He smiled, but his eyes were tearing up a little, and Violet knew that he was comparing her to the little girl she once was.

Her own eyes started to burn, and she fanned her hands in front of them. “Stop it, Dad! You’re gonna make me cry too.”

Greg Ambrose took a cleansing breath and composed himself before announcing, “Jay’s downstairs waiting.”

With her father on one side, and the handrail on the other, Violet descended the stairs as if she were floating. Jay stood at the bottom, watching her, frozen in place like a statue.

His black suit looked as if it had been tailored just for him. His jacket fell across his strong shoulders in a perfect line, tapering at his narrow waist. The crisp white linen shirt beneath stood out in contrast against the dark, finely woven wool. He smiled appreciatively as he watched her approach, and Violet felt her breath catch in her throat at the striking image of flawlessness that he presented.

“You…are so beautiful,” he whispered fervently as he strode toward her, taking her dad’s place at her arm.

She smiled sheepishly up at him. “So are you.”

Her mom insisted on taking no fewer than a hundred pictures of the two of them, both alone and together, until Violet felt like her eyes had been permanently damaged by the blinding flash. Finally her father called off her mom, dragging her away into the kitchen so that Violet and Jay could have a moment alone together.

“I meant it,” he said. “You look amazing.”

She shook her head, not sure what to say, a little embarrassed by the compliment.

“I got you something,” he said to her as he reached inside his jacket. “I hope you don’t mind, it’s not a corsage.”

Violet couldn’t have cared less about having flowers to pin on her dress, but she was curious about what he had brought for her. She watched as he dragged out the moment longer than he needed to, taking his time to reveal his surprise.

“I got you this instead.” He pulled out a black velvet box, the kind that holds fine jewelry. It was long and narrow.

She gasped as she watched him lift the lid.

Inside was a delicate silver chain, and on it was the polished outline of a floating silver heart that drifted over the chain that held it.

Violet reached out to touch it with her fingertip. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.

He lifted the necklace from the box and held it out to her. “May I?” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes bright with excitement as he clasped the silver chain around her bare throat. “Thank you,” she breathed, interlacing her hand into his and squeezing it meaningfully.

She reluctantly used the crutches to get out to the car, since there were no handrails for her to hold on to. She felt like they ruined the overall effect she was going for.

Jay’s car was as nice on the inside as it was outside. The interior was rich, smoky gray leather that felt like soft butter as he helped her inside. Aside from a few minor flaws, it could have passed for brand-new. The engine purred to life when he turned the key in the ignition, something that her car had never done. Roar, maybe-purr, never.

She was relieved that her uncle hadn’t ordered a police escort for the two of them to the dance. She had half expected to see a procession of marked police cars, lights swirling and sirens blaring, in the wake of Jay’s sleek black Acura.

Despite sitting behind the wheel of his shiny new car, Jay could scarcely take his eyes off her. His admiring gaze found her over and over again, while he barely concentrated on the road ahead of him. Fortunately they didn’t have far to go.

Even the parking lot at school had an entirely different feel as the cover of night began to fall in a sheer dark curtain, allowing the distant twinkling of the stars to break through the dusky sky. Violet could hear the music migrating out from the open doors of the gymnasium as couples paraded into the dance.

Jay patiently led Violet inside, showing his student ID, and then helping Violet with hers, to the two teachers manning the door and checking identifications. Once inside, Violet was surprised at herself. She had expected her hypercritical eyes to devour everything and mentally tear it to shreds, from the cheesy decor to the dorky DJ playing the music and trying to be “hip” to what the kids were into. Right down to the obnoxious and unpleasant Queen Lissie.

But she didn’t. She kind of liked it, in all of its tacky splendor.

She let Jay lead her to the photographer, a man in a cheap suit with a greasy comb-over-style hairdo. They had their picture taken in front of a backdrop of draped tulle in shades of pink and red, and flanked by freestanding white-probably Styrofoam-pillars that were meant to look Greek and tragically romantic. Instead, they looked tragically shabby, as if they might crumble at any moment from years of overuse. But Violet didn’t care about any of it; she could hardly breathe whenever she glanced sideways at her arrestingly handsome date.

When they were finished they saw Chelsea and Claire. Actually, the two overly wound-up girls came running right at Violet, screaming with excitement to see her. As if they didn’t see her every single day.

“Oh…my… God, Violet! You look amazing!” Claire gushed at her, and Violet tried not to be insulted by the insinuation that it was so far-fetched for her to look good.

And then Jules walked up with her date, a senior from another high school, and Violet almost didn’t recognize the tall, leggy bombshell towering over her. Jules wore an almost sinful black dress with a bustier top that left little to the imagination and no room for a bra of any kind. Before this moment, Violet hadn’t even realized that Jules had boobs, let alone full-on cleavage.

“Wow!” Claire breathed, unable to say anything beyond that single word. And suddenly Violet wasn’t so insulted, because Jules’s transformation had actually left Claire, the girl who always had something to say, completely speechless.

The music was loud, and the bass was up way too high, making everything from floor to ceiling vibrate. They had to raise their voices just to hear one another.

“Yeah, Jules!” Chelsea said in a voice thick with envy. “Go away, you’re making the rest of us look bad.” She winked at Jules’s date wickedly. “I bet you just want to eat her up, don’t ya?”

He stared at Chelsea with bewilderment and glanced back at Jules for help.

“Just ignore her,” Jules explained over the noise from the sound system. “She doesn’t get out much.”

Chelsea tried to look hurt by Jules’s words, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I’m just sayin’, Jules, he’d better watch his back tonight, or I might be trying to take you away from him.” Chelsea loved to play the potentially bi-curious card, even though everyone knew she liked boys