The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 16
“You shoulda seen his face during the transformation scene. He was practically drooling over Cinderella's gown. If only we had some heels, we could’ve given him the full “glass slipper” treatment. You might wanna jot that one down for future reference,” said Ellie, thumping two fingers on Latasha’s desk. Giving the overworked caretaker no chance to respond, she continued, barely missing a beat, “After the Fairy Godmother finished with the dress, the mice, and the carriage, it was time for the ballroom scene; my personal favorite scene, I might add…”
A dense, unfocused glaze had long overtaken Latasha’s pupils as she listened to Ellie ramble on while constantly getting distracted by side tangents and refusing to skip even the most minor details. This was supposed to merely be a chance for her to cross-reference what Connor and Riri had already told her, and yet here she was, trapped on the other side of Ellie’s one-way conversation about the plot beats of a movie she’d seen at least three dozen times.
BZZZ! BZZZ!
Latasha’s need for cognitive stimulation was suddenly sparked as her cell phone vibrated briefly on her desk. “Oh! Uh, Ellie, sorry to cut you off but your Mommy’s almost here. You should go wait for her on the couch,” she said, neglecting to mention the 15-minute buffer that Carol had given her.
Thinking nothing of Latasha’s dismissal, Ellie halted herself mid-sentence and jubilantly hopped to her feet. “Can I pick out a toy to pway wif toos?” she asked, switching tracks to Little playtime mode in the blink of an eye.
“Of course, just make sure you play near Riri where I can…” said Latasha, trailing off as she spotted an abandoned stuffed animal and a sudsy bar of soap in the center of the living room sans Riri. She promptly shifted her withering gaze onto Stacy, who hadn’t moved an inch since taking her seat on the couch. Latasha’s already thinning patience was on the verge of total collapse, “Where’s Riri?”
Shrugging her shoulders with a snide expression, Stacy had no intention of making Latasha’s job any easier. “Dunno. Not like it’s MY job to keep track of her,” she said, dangling her caregiver’s power position over her head.
Images of Bart Simpson being strangled by Homer zoomed throughout Lastasha’s weary mind; a fate she wished she could impose on Stacy presently. Biting her tongue once again for the sake of her business, she widened her intimidating eyes and gave Stacy the coldest stare she could muster.
No matter how hard Stacy tried to emulate the role of a Big, there wasn’t much she could do in the face of an actual Big’s punishing fury. Her smirk faltered under the pressure of Latasha’s death glare, compelling her to relent, “Relax, she went up to comfort Skye.”
Sighing roughly, Latasha allowed herself to cool off. Of all the reasons Stacy could’ve given, it was hard to stay mad at Riri for such a caring act. If anything, her anger inverted as she grappled with the frustration of not handling Skye on her own. She could practically hear Elma chirping at her for it. “Alright, well…regardless, it’s your turn, Stacy. Ellie, I better not see you running off too,” she said, attempting to wrestle back control as she gestured for Stacy to join her.
“Buh chus said I cood pick a toy out!” pleaded Ellie, frantically grabbing Latasha’s forearm with both hands.
“AFTER THAT!” shouted Latasha, losing her temper in the heat of the moment, “I-I mean, yes, you can. Just…hurry.” She abruptly patted Ellie on the butt, sending the anxious Little off in the direction of the nursery.
Snickering at Latasha’s outburst, Stacy knew the more frazzled Latasha was, the better her advantage was heading into their dialogue. This was almost too easy. “Wow, Latasha, A+ caregivership there,” she said, applying a heavy dose of snark to her mockery.
“Yeah, well, it’s more than a costume for some of us. Now, get your butt in here,” replied Latasha, taking Stacy’s shade and throwing it right back in her face. There was a reason she saved Stacy for last. The events of this weekend had clearly emboldened the ultra-bratty Little to an outrageous degree, and now that her reign of terror was cut short, she was desperately trying to claw back as much dominance as possible. Closing the doors behind her, it was high time she reminded Stacy whose Palace this really was.
-------------------------------------------------------------
SHUNK!
The hollow pipes of the Padded Palace shook as Connor’s steamy shower came to an end. Normally, he was fairly efficient, needing at most 10 minutes to wash up and shave his face. However, the lushness of the hot water combined with how filthy he’d been in the last day-and-a-half kept the water running for almost half an hour. He quickly snatched a towel off the hook, pulling it into the shower while holding the curtain closed to prevent the warm air from escaping.
Draping the towel over his head, Connor furiously ruffled his wet hair around until the majority of the moisture had been forced out. Far from an elegant approach but there was nothing he hated more than the feeling of damp hair sticking to the back of his neck. The same fluffy, pink towel was then used to wrap up his pelvis and lower torso. It was far softer than his usual towel, which was currently in the other bathroom. Not that he minded one bit. In the back of his mind, he teased himself for returning to pink so quickly, although it wasn’t like the powder blue he had been wearing was all that masculine to begin with. He chuckled, contemplating what Connor from two months ago would’ve thought of him now; an idle thought that soon found his neutral smile fading away.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Suddenly, a pair of light thumps at the bathroom door drew Connor’s attention. “Occupied,” he said, nowhere close to ready to leave the steam cocoon of the shower. Sadly, this did nothing to deter whoever was waiting at the door as another series of knocks soon followed. Rolling his eyes, he parted the shower curtain just enough to slip through before immediately sealing it back up. Hopefully, he’d be able to return after this interruption was dealt with.
To Connor’s surprise, he opened the door to find an empty hallway. Poking his head out, he glanced from side to side. As far as he could tell, he was alone. “Hello?” he said, listening for a response. A floor beneath him, several footsteps could be heard. Seconds later, he spotted Ellie peeking up the staircase.
“Chus need somfin?” asked Ellie far too earnestly to be pulling some grand prank.
“Uh…no. Thanks, Ellie,” said Connor, awkwardly dismissing Ellie before shrinking back into the bathroom and nervously pressing the lock on the doorknob. Had this been a one-off, he would’ve been able to let it go. Unfortunately, this was now the second time he’d opened the door to a noisy hallway only to find it devoid of life. The logical side of his brain knew it was likely one of the girls but that didn’t stop him from feeling slightly superstitious. On top of everything, the last thing he needed was for this place to somehow be haunted.
Shaking his head at the silly assertion of something supernatural at play, Connor returned to his shower to finish toweling off. The next five minutes were spent patting himself down until he felt dry enough to embrace the chilly air of the house at large. A puff of mist escaped as he dashed from the bathroom to his bedroom.
Letting the towel around his body fall to his feet, Connor approached the dresser with a dejected sense of apathy. He’d had his fun but it was finally time to return to the dull boy clothes he was unceremoniously ripped away from the night before. Sure, there was an enormous part of him that wanted to dive back into Latasha’s storage closet for another nightie but after such an extreme 24 hours, it was probably for the best that he took it easy.
SQUEAK!
The oil-deficient hinges of the dresser drawer echoed in Connor’s ears as he pried the snug shelf open. “Huh?” he muttered, encountering an empty cubby where his boxers and gym shorts had been previously. His heart rate ticked up by several beats per minute as he proceeded to check the rest of the dresser, only to find that each drawer was as barren as the first, “Okay, what the heck is…”
Connor's throat tightened, leaving him unable to finish his sentence as he spotted the pre-selected outfit that had been laid out on the bed for him. Unfolded in the center of the mattress was a light yellow party dress with bright pink ribbons all over, which had been carefully paired with matching bloomers and two full-sized plastic nappies. The double diapers caused him to look toward where his package of pull-ups had been stashed, finding that too had been stolen during his shower. Whoever had laid this out for him had made certain he had no alternatives.
In an instant, every ounce of blood Connor possessed drained from his head. At least he could officially confirm that the Padded Palace wasn’t haunted. After all, he was already pale as a ghost.
TO BE CONTINUED…