1 The Bitches of Everafter (4 page)

6

Robin in the Hood

Robin Hood used to love his job. He used to rise every morning with a smile on his face and a spring in his step because he knew that his work was important. Keeping folks who had lost their way on the straight and narrow and helping the less fortunate souls who came across his desk was a dream come true for Robin. Yes sir, being a parole officer was the life for him. He was born to do it. The satisfaction he got from turning a troubled person around and aiming him or her in the right direction was like a drug —a drug he could take every day of his life and never grow tired of. He used to walk down the street, head held high, knowing that each day he would make a difference. He was a cheerful fellow, an easy-going guy. Some even called him merry. But that all changed when Judge Redhood assigned him the case files from Granny’s Home For Girls.

As he sat in his rusty Pinto in front of the rustier iron gate, Robin sipped bitter coffee from a Styrofoam cup and wondered for the umpteenth time how a man of his caliber and courage, someone who had fought against injustice in Everafter for as long as he could remember, could wind up like this.

He cracked his neck, cringing at the pain from the shoulder injury he had sustained during his last parole meeting with Aura. She had just been about to enter the house when Robin tapped her on the shoulder. Before he knew what hit him, she had his arm twisted up behind his back and was slamming his face into the concrete.

He still had the black eye, although it was more of a yellow shade now.

The car thief insisted she hadn’t known it was him. That he had startled her. That may have been true, but he couldn’t help but think these women had some sort of backdoor wager in place to see who could make his life most miserable.

Robin dunked a frosted doughnut into his coffee and bit into the sugary sweetness. He never used to indulge in such confections—he viewed his body as a temple and kept in shape with fencing, running, and weight lifting. But that was twenty pounds and several bitches ago. He would never ordinarily refer to a woman in such a vulgar manner—it’s just that they were so
mean
. They didn’t respect Robin, the badge he stood behind, or the important work he did. They saw him as an obstacle. A man who stood in between them and their freedom. As if he wanted to catch them doing something wrong so he could add another black mark to their records. But that wasn’t his intention at all.

All they had to do was stay out of trouble and Robin would be more than thrilled to sign the paperwork that would turn them loose on Everafter. They would no longer be his problem. They would be the town’s problem.

So far they had
technically
kept their noses clean, but their antics and the way they taunted him were grating on his last nerve. It kept him up nights, wondering what sort of prank they might pull next, and which body part would be broken or bleeding the next day. When they might decide to tamper with his car or his computer or his cell phone. They were crafty, those women, that was for sure. Except that he could never prove it. It wasn’t like he could discipline them for their smart mouths—they had the same right to speak their minds as anyone else in the eyes of the law. And injuries like the black eye he’d carried around for a week couldn’t be counted against them either. If Aura swore she was only defending herself, fearing he was an ax murderer sneaking up behind her, then all he could do was take her word for it. After all, his visits were designed specifically to surprise the parolees.

The impromptu drop-ins were not Robin’s idea. They were ordered by Judge Redhood, who, truth be told, wasn’t very different from the women on his roster. She had a nasty streak, that one.

He took another bite of his doughnut, dreading his first meeting with this newest criminal. She looked harmless enough, with her doe eyes, modest attire, and shiny black hair, but looks, Robin had learned, could be deceiving. As an extra precaution, he was wearing a cup today. He’d learned that lesson from Punzie. She was a kicker.

He drained the rest of his coffee, tossed the cup in the back seat, and got out of the car. The Saturday morning meetings were planned. He met with all of the women as a group to collect their community service sign-offs, to ensure they had followed all of Granny’s house rules, to check the therapy progress reports, and to answer any concerns they might have.

He did a quick scan of his appearance. His shirt seemed clean enough. No coffee stains this time, but it had escaped from his pants so he tucked it back in. The waistband was a bit snug. He would have to ask Marion to let the waist out again.

Sweet Marion, who was like soft rain on a summer afternoon. She was everything to Robin. She was the one thing he looked forward to every day. When he came home at night after a long day of abuse, he found comfort in Marion’s arms. Often, she asked about his work, asked what troubled him, and every time he insisted it was business as usual. He didn’t want to worry his bride, and more importantly he didn’t want to complicate his life any more than it already was. Marion was fiercely protective of her loved ones and quick with a bow, so Robin decided it best not to tell his wife the sordid details of his latest cases, lest she take matters into her own hands.

Robin sucked in his stomach, brushed the crumbs out of his mustache, donned his cowboy hat, and approached the front door of Granny’s dilapidated house, trying to appear authoritative. The one thought that ran through his mind as he pressed the buzzer was
I really need more men in my life. Maybe I should join a bowling league.

7

Roses Are Red and Walls Shouldn't Move

Snow White was awakened by a flash of purple light. She bolted upright in her tiny bed and looked out the window that was situated next to it. Nothing but blue skies as far as her eye could see. Strange.

She looked around her little room, disoriented at first, wondering where she was and how she had gotten here. The strangest feeling of
deja vu
overcame her. Then she remembered where she was and wanted to crawl back under the covers. Except there weren’t any.

She sighed, flung her legs over the side of the bed, and sat there for a moment as her brain caught up with the rest of her body.

After a moment, she got up to fetch her red toothbrush and her favorite cinnamon toothpaste. She set those on the desk along with the mint shampoo and lavender soap she made herself, and opened the closet to decide what to wear today. It was Saturday morning, and as far as she knew there were chores to attend to, although she wasn’t certain what she would be tasked to do. She decided on a white tee shirt and khaki cargo pants and laid them on the desk as well. She had just grabbed a headband when she heard thunder. She turned, but the window was still forecasting a sunny day.

The thunder grew louder, unsteady in its rhythm, and she thought she heard a wheezing at the tail end of it. Like a freight train followed by a squeaky caboose. Only it wasn’t coming from outside the
house
. The rumble was just outside the
door
.

She put her ear just above the knob Hansel had repaired yesterday, then got down on all floors to take a look through the gap where the door met the floor. Stripes. Black, tan, orange.

Beast.

“Well, at least I have one friend in this house,” she said.

She guided the door open slowly, careful not to disturb the sleeping dog. His leg twitched, but his eyes remained shut and his snoring grew louder. Snow gathered her clothes and her toiletries, carefully stepped over the massive animal, and made her way to the bathroom.

She was relieved to find a lock on the bathroom door as her own room had none, although the task list mentioned on Granny’s rules was nowhere in sight.

Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, Snow knew that it was still early in the morning. Five-thirty, perhaps a quarter to six. But there were a lot of other girls who needed to bathe and she had no idea if there was a time frame to begin the chores or if they were supposed to cook breakfast as a team. That in mind, she washed hurriedly, towel-dried her hair with a towel she found on a hook behind the door that had likely been used, and dressed as quickly as she could.

Snow dabbed a bit of her mint shampoo on the towel and scrubbed the shower and the sink. She wiped both spaces down, then dried them with the skirt she had slept in the night before. It was a courtesy both for the other girls and the neglected house itself.

She wrapped her dirty clothes in the towel. “I really need to find the linen closet,” she muttered. “I need fresh sheets and a place to lay my head. And I can’t keep using someone else’s towel.”

The scent of roses filled the room, and Snow lifted her eyes to find the stencil work above the sink pulsating. The green vine bulged, reached and stretched itself free of the flat wall with a popping sound. The roses writhed and fluttered, twisting until they too burst from their plaster prison. One by one, the faded blooms filled with a rich, ruby hue and transformed into living flowers parading along the green vine as if it had taken root within the wall itself. Snow smelled dirt and earth, greenery and the fragrant scent that only the most luscious of rose blossoms can deliver.

She gasped and took a step back. Her heart thumped in her chest, the blood pumping so hard she could hear it as she reached behind her back for the doorknob, not wanting to take her eyes off the spectacle that was playing out before her.

Snow stood there, her mouth agape.

Where there had been a flat surface with vines and flowers painted onto it, a cabinet had grown from the wall, framed by actual climbing roses.  In that same instant one of the flowers formed its own knob.

The handle jiggled as if to say “Open me.”

Snow’s hands shook as she reached for the rose-shaped knob. She knew what she was seeing was simply not possible, and yet her hand was on a real flower that had somehow sprung a piece of hardware.

She had to know what was behind that wall. She held her breath and twisted.

The rose vine door swung open and there sat a pillow, a blanket, a set of cotton sheets, and two freshly laundered towels.

Should she dare? What if this was a trick? What if Granny was testing her somehow?

But what if it wasn’t? What if her eyes were playing tricks on her and this had been a linen cabinet all along?

Her hands reached in cautiously, touching the fabric. It seemed real enough, so Snow collected the linens, turned to gather her dirties and headed for the door.

She twisted the knob, then hesitated. She looked behind her where the cabinet was still open. “Thank you,” she whispered. It seemed like the right thing to do, and whenever possible, Snow thought it best to do the right thing.

Fresh linens and dirty laundry in hand, she ran back to her room, where Beast was now comfortably resting on her bed, his head dangling over the side of the mattress, tongue practically licking the floor.

She shut the door and leaned against it, trembling. What had just happened? Was that real? Had she imagined it? But there was tangible proof in her hands that in fact the wall opened up and offered her the very thing she wished for.

She was cracking up. That was it. She hadn’t slept well and the stress of yesterday’s events had proven too much. After all, she had just spoken to a house. A
house
. Animals were one thing, sure—they were living breathing things with emotions and needs. But who talks to a house?

She wondered if she should tell Dr. Bean about this. She was only enrolled in his group sessions, but perhaps she could get some one-on-one time with him. He would surely have a logical explanation for this.

Snow blew out a sigh and pulled herself together. She put the laundry in the plastic tub in the corner of the room, and realized she had forgotten to collect her toiletries, but there was no way she was going back in there. The others could have them. She’d just have to use the chemical-laden products they sold at the drugstore.

Beast yawned and rolled on his back, nearly toppling over the edge of the bed.

Snow stared at the dog, a thought forming in her mind. A theory, really. She decided to test it.

“Are you hungry?” She asked the dog. He lumbered off the bed, his giant paws shaking the floorboards and sat in front of her.

“Good boy. Now tell me what you’d like to eat.”

Beast cocked his head and offered Snow a paw. She shook it.

“Good boy. Now say what you want.”

Beast whined and bowed his front half, his back end sticking up in the air, tail wagging so furiously it knocked over a lamp. He woofed once.

Snow let out a sigh of relief and ruffled the dog’s ear. “Thank Heavens you can’t talk.”

Maybe food was what Snow needed as well. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Perhaps after a full stomach she would walk into that bathroom and discover there had been a cabinet there the entire time.

She slipped out of the room, Beast at her heel, and slid one last look back at the tiny pink bathroom.

It was just as she had left it. Door slightly ajar, light on.

Until the light clicked out.

Snow didn’t look back as she raced down the steps. She set off in search of a kitchen that she hoped wasn’t stenciled in rose vines. Or anything else for that matter.