Page 84
Story: Devil's Bride
The last thing I needed to do was to fantasize about what I was doing. It was a business transaction and nothing else.
I took a deep breath before walking from the dressing room. As soon as Bella saw me, she clapped her hands and squealed.
“That is amazing!”
With a little more dramatic flair, I stepped onto the platform, holding my head high, or as some might suggest, in a regal manner.
“That’s just beautiful, Genie. Just gorgeous. You must get that one. I insist.” She was sloshing Coke everywhere. I ignored my typical anal-retentive response.
“You really think so? I don’t look like some swan fleeing from the black swan king?”
“Stop with the animal analogy. Besides, Jago isn’t some black swan king.”
“Are you certain about that?”
She gave me the kind of look only teenagers could pull off. Sarcastic and sweet with a dose of are-you-fucking-stupid disguised as a smile. “I’m not blind nor am I deaf. The way the two of you look at each other screams of passion.”
“What would you know about passion?”
“I almost had a boyfriend once. Until Papa found out.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” My kid sister had learned to pop the ‘p’ just as I’d done at her age. Where had all this come from?
“What did Papa do?”
“I didn’t ask, but Sasha didn’t come around again, nor did he try and call. Come to think of it, he switched schools too.”
“Ouch.” I grabbed my champagne, lifting the flute as a toast to myself. I did look damn hot in the dress if I had to say so.
“I’ll say. You’re different. You get to choose. I think you’re already falling in love with Jago.”
I couldn’t have spat the champagne out any faster. Thank God I didn’t get any on the dress. With Ms. Vulture standing only a few feet away glaring at me as if I’d come close to ruining the dress, I needed to watch my p’s and q’s.
Without popping the p.
“I am not falling in love with him. He’s reprehensible. He’s arrogant. He slurps when he eats soup. He wears clothes like he’s watched one too many episodes ofMiami Vice. He’s pigheaded and refuses to listen to reason. He has an annoying habit of just coming into a room without being told it’s acceptable. What’s to like about him, let alone love?”
“Miami Vice?”
“Oh, come on. You’re not so young you haven’t seen reruns of the eighties American cop drama.”
She stared at me.
“Two good-looking cops in Miami? They were sizzling at work and under… Well, when not working?”
Bella shook her head. I needed to remind myself that my life had been about studying, a part-time job so I could consider myself on my own, and old television shows. That hadn’t been her life. Although I had to admit I had no idea what her life had been like.
“No clue, but it’s settled. You like him. A lot. More than a lot.” She pulled away when I tried to smack her when we both heard her stomach growling.
We lifted our heads at the same time, both holding in our laughter for a few seconds, but unable to do it any longer.
“I think it’s time for lunch.” I turned toward the puckish vulture. “I’ll take this one.”
I had the dress. I had the shoes, although I’d be wearing my boots underneath just in case I decided to become a runaway bride. I had my own jewelry, thank you very much, which would remind me that I still had my independence. Flowers had been ordered. The chef told to make the perfect cake with frilly little roses.
Everything was perfect. Just freaking perfect.
I took a deep breath before walking from the dressing room. As soon as Bella saw me, she clapped her hands and squealed.
“That is amazing!”
With a little more dramatic flair, I stepped onto the platform, holding my head high, or as some might suggest, in a regal manner.
“That’s just beautiful, Genie. Just gorgeous. You must get that one. I insist.” She was sloshing Coke everywhere. I ignored my typical anal-retentive response.
“You really think so? I don’t look like some swan fleeing from the black swan king?”
“Stop with the animal analogy. Besides, Jago isn’t some black swan king.”
“Are you certain about that?”
She gave me the kind of look only teenagers could pull off. Sarcastic and sweet with a dose of are-you-fucking-stupid disguised as a smile. “I’m not blind nor am I deaf. The way the two of you look at each other screams of passion.”
“What would you know about passion?”
“I almost had a boyfriend once. Until Papa found out.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” My kid sister had learned to pop the ‘p’ just as I’d done at her age. Where had all this come from?
“What did Papa do?”
“I didn’t ask, but Sasha didn’t come around again, nor did he try and call. Come to think of it, he switched schools too.”
“Ouch.” I grabbed my champagne, lifting the flute as a toast to myself. I did look damn hot in the dress if I had to say so.
“I’ll say. You’re different. You get to choose. I think you’re already falling in love with Jago.”
I couldn’t have spat the champagne out any faster. Thank God I didn’t get any on the dress. With Ms. Vulture standing only a few feet away glaring at me as if I’d come close to ruining the dress, I needed to watch my p’s and q’s.
Without popping the p.
“I am not falling in love with him. He’s reprehensible. He’s arrogant. He slurps when he eats soup. He wears clothes like he’s watched one too many episodes ofMiami Vice. He’s pigheaded and refuses to listen to reason. He has an annoying habit of just coming into a room without being told it’s acceptable. What’s to like about him, let alone love?”
“Miami Vice?”
“Oh, come on. You’re not so young you haven’t seen reruns of the eighties American cop drama.”
She stared at me.
“Two good-looking cops in Miami? They were sizzling at work and under… Well, when not working?”
Bella shook her head. I needed to remind myself that my life had been about studying, a part-time job so I could consider myself on my own, and old television shows. That hadn’t been her life. Although I had to admit I had no idea what her life had been like.
“No clue, but it’s settled. You like him. A lot. More than a lot.” She pulled away when I tried to smack her when we both heard her stomach growling.
We lifted our heads at the same time, both holding in our laughter for a few seconds, but unable to do it any longer.
“I think it’s time for lunch.” I turned toward the puckish vulture. “I’ll take this one.”
I had the dress. I had the shoes, although I’d be wearing my boots underneath just in case I decided to become a runaway bride. I had my own jewelry, thank you very much, which would remind me that I still had my independence. Flowers had been ordered. The chef told to make the perfect cake with frilly little roses.
Everything was perfect. Just freaking perfect.
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