How Zoe Made Her Dreams (Mostly) Come Tr - By Sarah Strohmeyer Page 0,69

to pull out of Fairyland fifty thousand dollars richer in a big black stretch limousine?

So long, suckers!

I said, “Yes, ma’am. I will pack, make arrangements for the bus, and turn over the key and phone tomorrow.”

“I may still require your services in the interim.”

I nodded.

She flicked me off with her fingers. “Be gone.”

The door slid open, and I was excused. Evelyn at her desk regarded me over her half glasses. “I’m so sorry it ended this way, Zoe.”

“So am I.” What else was there to say? Everything I’d worked so hard for—including Jess’s role as Cinderella—was a total bust.

I headed for the resort and to room 505. My only hope was that Michelle was out, because she was the last person I wanted to face. What a horrid, horrid woman.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. “It’s me, Zoe. Your escort.”

I waited as someone came to the door. When it opened I was relieved to see it was Sage in a gray T-shirt and jeans. Reading my mind, he said, “Don’t worry. She’s not here. Come in.”

He waved me in, and I stepped inside feeling slightly nervous. After his performance in the park, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

“My apologies.” He clapped his hands together prayerfully. “I was trying to annoy my mother and, unfortunately, other people were harmed.”

I appreciated the sentiment, even if it was too late and directed at the wrong person. “Actually I was sent here to apologize to you.”

Sage shook his head and sighed. “Adults. I mean, what can you say?”

I smiled as he opened the fridge that I had personally stocked with all sorts of expensive water and organic fruit juices to see he’d slipped in two Cokes. Cracking one open, he handed it to me sheepishly. “All that other stuff’s for show. I’m a total sugar addict.”

We moved over to the table by the window that, incidentally, Sage had opened, despite the threat of paparazzi. I didn’t really know what my role was here. I’d apologized. I’d been fired. I was done.

But Sage insisted on reminiscing about Fairyland and how it had a special place in his heart because his family used to go to Storytown when he was a kid, before he got famous. Before his parents got divorced and Michelle turned into the stage-manager mother from hell.

“Believe it or not, Mom used to take me here all the time when we were living outside Philly. She was like a big kid back then, loving Storytown as much as I did,” he said, resting his chin on his hand and gazing wistfully toward the park. “That’s why when I heard Fairyland wanted to make me a spokesperson, I was all gung ho, though Mom’s theory is that Fairyland’s best years are behind it. All the more reason, if you ask me.”

I was telling Sage how much Storytown had meant to me, too, when there was another knock at the door, followed by Ian’s voice. At the sound of it, my heart seized.

Sage whispered, “It’ll be okay.”

When Ian walked in, Sage held up his arms. “Don’t hit me.”

“I am sorry, man,” Ian said, extending his hand to shake Sage’s. “I came here to apologize. I acted like a jerk.”

“Forget it,” Sage said. “I was the one who started it. Unfortunately Zoe’s paying the price.”

Ian must not have noticed I was there, because as soon as he caught sight of me over Sage’s shoulder, his eyes shone with regret. “Oh, Zoe, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell her you like her,” Sage said. “She obviously likes you.”

More embarrassment. I bowed my head as Ian came over and, kneeling next to me, repeated a line from his “audition” that day in the Queen’s office. “I am the worst guy ever.”

“No, you’re not.” In fact, secretly, I was kind of touched that he’d defended my honor. “Besides, Dash had it coming.”

Ian grinned. “Is all forgiven, dearest?” Complete with batting eyes, another repeat performance.

Again I couldn’t help but laugh.

“It was my fault!” Sage exclaimed. “Do you want me to do something? Call your boss?”

I said, “Agree to be the spokesperson.”

Sage slumped. “That I cannot do. Unfortunately, until I turn eighteen, my mother has control.”

So that was it. There was no solution. When I told Ian I’d been fired, he slapped his forehead and cursed.

“Too bad we can’t go back to Storytown and go through the Way Back Machine, eh, Zoe?” Sage asked, referring to a perennial Storytown favorite, an attraction where you could “go back in