That Devil Woman

XV - A Devilish Idea

Hell Hall was now where Cruella spent most of her time. It had become a convenient location for her to escape the press. But now, she had found a great deal of serenity among the desolate woods. She enjoyed the feeling of being the only person for miles (except, of course, for Jasper and Horace), as if this part of the Earth was hers to inhabit and use how she saw fit.

She stood in the living room with Jasper and Horace lazing on the couch. She held a letter firmly between her red gloved fingers.

"How could she do this to me?" she grumbled.

"Do what, ma'am?" Horace asked curiously. "Who is it?"

"Anita Radcliffe, née Campbell-Green," she spat. "She's married that... that pathetic prodigy. That silly little symphonist. Why does nothing ever go as it ought to?" Cruella remembered the talk she had had with Anita and cringed. She should have known not to trust the words of others. Not even her friends. Now, she is throwing away all her talents. Cruella thought she must have lost all respect for herself.

Cruella threw the letter onto the floor and stepped towards the lit fireplace. She held her cigarette, tucked into her long cigarette holder, to her mouth and inhaled. She drew a long breath and watched the smoke leave her mouth and swirl in the air, eventually dissipating in front of the fire. Cruella wore a simple black sleeveless midi dress and red heels. She looked extremely sophisticated, yet haggardly. She had transformed into a gaunt, skeletal woman, which she liked because it gave her character. After a lingering silence, Jasper felt the need to say something.

"Well, you've always got your career," he feebly attempted to comfort her. "That's not going anywhere."

"Don't be ridiculous," Cruella snapped, turning around. "Nobody's been interested in my work since last Christmas when I wore the striped fur cloak. And even that didn't come close to the buzz around my outfit eight years ago. Oh, don't you just remember that night at the boutique, Jasper? The glamour, the photographs. The look on Maureen's face. Everybody loved me then. How did it come to this?" Cruella was right; her ephemeral fame seemed to have come and gone.

"I'm sure people are still interested in your fashion," Jasper added.

"I doubt it," Cruella replied, plotting. "I need something big and bold. Something nobody's ever seen before. Quick; order me ten yards of striped fabric. That'll finally show that Anita Radcliffe and her beau, Roger, what she's up against."

"Oh, Anita and Roger. Aren't they the ones with the puppies?" Horace asked. Cruella turned to him sharply. She recalled meeting Perdita at Anita's one afternoon. It was quite a charming dog. Horace was surprised by Cruella's reaction, so he elaborated, "their little Dalmatians are the talk of the town. People say they've got the finest fur coats in the city."

"People say that, do they..." Cruella thought, taking another puff of her cigarette. "Jasper. Horace. I'm beginning to see spots," she added in an almost trance-like state.

"I thought you wanted stripes," Horace quietly replied.

"Oh, Horace, what kind of a sycophant are you?" Cruella scolded him.

"That's fine. We'll just order spotted fabric instead," Jasper offered.

"See? That right there," Cruella quickly responded, pointing a long finger at Jasper. "You were so quick to order more fabric. Because people expect it too much. There's nothing bold and exciting about spotted fabric," then, Cruella smirked at her devilish idea. "We won't need to order them. Besides, faux fur is all over the fashion scene at the moment. People need to see the real deal. That's how I make the people love me again."

"Miss, I don't think people would like you too much for that," Jasper admitted. "People are okay with mink fur, even rabbit fur, but dog fur... that won't be too popular."

"Oh, Jasper, you are such a whit," Cruella said dismissively. "It does not matter to me what people like. What they talk about is what's important. As long as people keep talking about the de Vil name, I need not worry about going under."

"I don't like this," Horace finally stood up for himself, evidently uncomfortable. "It ain't right." Cruella was taken aback by Horace's reaction, but she did consider it. Still, she could no longer fathom a world she was not on top of. And she needed Jasper and Horace for it.

"Very well. I'll just move my studio elsewhere," Cruella said, manipulatively feigning compromise. "We need not cross paths again."

"But Miss! We can't be seen in public," Horace declared, quickly changing values. "The police will be onto us straight away."

Cruella flashed him an intimidating smirk and held out her hand.

"So, we have a deal then?"

Horace looked at Cruella's hand hesitantly. He looked at Jasper, who rolled his eyes and begrudgingly shook her hand. He did not particularly want to do this, but he knew Cruella left them no choice, so her saw no point in continuing to ponder it.

Cruella smiled at her faithful henchman. She picked up a notepad and pen from the coffee table and began furiously scribbling numbers.

"Where are you going to import authentic spotted fur from?" Jasper finally asked, then jokingly added, "unless you want to wear Anita's dogs."

Cruella stepped towards the fireplace as she stared into the flames. She thought of how the fire was not unlike herself; unpredictable, hostile, and rage-filled. She felt a laugh build in her chest as she chuckled to herself. Behind her, Jasper and Horace saw only a dramatic silhouette against the light of the flames. Cruella's laughter built and built to a frightening level.

"I'll be wearing Anita's dogs!"

Cruella let out the most wicked laugh she could muster. And she enjoyed it. How she enjoyed feeling so utterly powerful and dangerous. She craned her neck backwards and screamed her laughter into the silent woods. Then, as if pulled by some external force she moved towards the front door, snatching a fur coat off of the coat hanger in the promise.

"I'll be back. I have to pay someone a visit..."