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If she noticed the fresh bruises painting my skin, my mother chose not ask any
questions.
When an item of clothing didn't meet with her approval, Leonora gave a little sigh
and let her eyes wander around the room as if the Eiffel Tower print on the wall
suddenly became intensely fascinating.
Occasionally, she waved her hand idly, indicating that an item should be wrapped
and taken to the counter.
I stood half-naked on a raised dais in the center of the fitting room while Jean-Luc
hovered behind me. He held a tuxedo shirt refashioned into a dress tight against my
body to show my mother how the piece could be taken in to properly accentuate my
waist.
The bell above the door dinged. Another customer had entered the shop. Pity for
them.
Jean-Luc disappeared quickly to greet his new victim and my mother followed
behind him, murmuring something about how shades of pink really brought out the color
in my eyes.
I began frantically searching for my old clothes. Enough was enough. I had found
my shirt and one shoe when I heard a voice that I recognized.
"Leonora, how nice to see you?"
It couldn't be fate wasn't that cruel. I tiptoed to the wall and peered around the
corner. Clothing racks blocked most of the view but my mother's dark chignon was
unmistakable as it moved among the racks. Next to it was an elegant bob the color of
liquid metal. Turn around, I silently begged.
The woman could be anyone. Los Angeles was home to millions of people. The
chance that I would run into someone I knew on my first day in town was laughable.
My mother turned toward a tray of silk scarves and the silver bob moved with her. A
profile came into view, hard and angled like hawk, and then the woman faced me
completely. I knew that face.
I looked frantically to the front of the store and there it was: a flash of blonde hair
and the low laugh of a predator. Cynthie and her mother, Dina.
My shirt lay in a ball under the chair. I scooped it off the floor and pulled it over my
head, so quickly that both my arms ended up through the same hole. I twisted in a
frantic circle to right myself.
The justice would be just poetic if they walked in on me now, still in my underwear
with a t-shirt wrapped around my body like a straightjacket.
Where were my pants? Discarded clothing draped every available surface, but no
sign of a pair of faded jeans. The only piece of denim in the whole store should have
stood out a little better.
It would be just like my mother to order Jean-Luc to have them burned. Acid wash
offended her more than bare feet at a dinner party.
The voices moved closer and I pressed my back against the wall of the dressing
room. I could already hear Dina Abell's grating voice in my head.
Leonora, why in the goddess' name is your daughter half-naked on the floor like a
street urchin? Is she having a fit?
I peeked around the corner and immediately spotted my jeans. Not in the fitting area
where I'd almost certainly taken them off, but tossed over the back of an armchair next
to a table of $200 bracelets. Less than ten feet from Dina and my mother.
My fists balled in the hem of the t-shirt, pressing it hard to my thighs. If I bent over
far enough it was almost like wearing actual clothing. I hugged the wall and tiptoed out
of the fitting room alcove, crouching low so I stayed hidden behind a circular clothing
rack.
A display table was all that stood between me and a few scraps of dignity. I darted
out into the open and lunged for my jeans, the soft denim a lifeline. Having them in my
hands made me sigh in relief. I huddled behind the armchair and struggled into them.
After waiting a long moment, I peeked around the chair.
Dina stared right at me.
I froze, but she merely curled her lip slightly as if smelling something disagreeable.
She turned back to my mother and murmured softly about a darling skirt she'd bought
the other day that would go wonderfully with this Hermés scarf.
Surprise kept me frozen in place as Dina pointedly turned her back. I rose from
behind the chair, my fingers gripping the upholstery for balance. Dina's neck was
ramrod straight and I stared at the back of her head. The hair in her silver bob was thin
and bright like Christmas tree tinsel.
My mother wore a stiff smile. She caught my eye as I approached. Her eyebrow
quirked slightly and we shared a moment of perfect understanding. She didn't think
much more of Dina than I did.
I moved up behind my mother and plastered the brightest grin I could muster on my
face. "Hello, Mrs. Abell."
"Helena." She cast me an unfriendly look. "When did you get back in town?"
Leonora touched me gently on the shoulder. "Just this morning. I was so excited
that we came here straight from the airport." Her voice was faintly chiding.
I glanced quickly from my mother's impassive smile to the tense set of Dina's jaw. I
was missing something.
Dina cleared her throat. "How nice to have you back." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]