Extrait

Extrait offert par Hope Tarr :

Prologue from Operation Cinderella

Once upon a time in a faraway land, a forest of steel and concrete known as Manhattan…

East Village, Manhattan

Present Day

"Keep your jock strap on, I'm coming."

Macie stepped out of the shower to her apartment buzzer blaring. Fuck, that was fast. She'd been ordering from All-Thai'd Up for two years now, at first because the edgy whimsy of the name appealed and later because they screwed up her standard order of Panang Curry with a side of sticky rice fewer times than the average St. Mark's take-out dive. Bonus: the restaurant was only a few blocks from her apartment. Still, this was the first time one of their bicycled delivery guys had made it to her building in sub-fifteen minutes. Dude must be a regular Lance Armstrong. Impressive.

The house phone let out another ear splitting screech. Okay, this was getting annoying. Grabbing her robe off the hook, she called out from the steam-filled bathroom, "Chill already, I said I'm coming." A stupid thing to do, literally talking to the walls, and yet considering all the stupid to bad things she'd done in the past month, talking to herself didn't begin to make the list.

She wrapped a towel around her streaming hair and raced through the living room, emptied of possessions except for her inflatable mattress, single suitcase, and her cat, Stevie's feeding bowls. Aside from the few boxes in her bedroom, everything else was in storage�in limbo like the rest of her life.

Reaching the door to her apartment, hers until tomorrow, she punched the intercom button. "Sorry, I was in the�"

"MJ�Macie, or whatever the hell you're calling yourself these days, I know you're in there. Buzz me up�now!" Ross's voice, armed with an angry edge, rose above the crackling.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit�

Whipping away from the intercom, Macie pressed her damp back against the double-bolt, emotions reeling between shock, elation, and a primal fear. Ross, what was he doing here? How had he found her? And now that he had, how could she convince him to go away?

"Macie, it's no use pretending. I talked to Francesca. She told me everything."

At the mention of Ross's ex-wife, every pore in Macie's body seemed to open, soaking her terry cloth robe. She swallowed deeply, sucking down air like a college freshman quaffing beer at a kegger.

So this is what a panic attack feels like. I always wondered. Maybe I'll do a story on it someday. Someday�assuming I survive.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Had she really gone from features editor of On Top Magazine, one of the hottest, hippest women's magazines to come on the scene since Jane, to hunted fugitive in six short weeks?

"Macie, I know you're in there."

Ross's voice, angry sounding but weary, too, dragged her back to the madness of the moment. It was time to pull up her Big Girl pants and face the so-called music, which hopefully wouldn't involve either sirens or harps.

"Buzz me in and hear me out. You owe me that much."

Swallowing hard, Macie opened her eyes and turned back around. He was right. She owed him that much. That much and so much more.

She reached out a trembling hand and punched in the security code.