Page 4 of Beg for It

CHAPTER FOUR

BLAIR

“You need to suck in, darling.”

“I am,” I wheeze, attempting to expel every last molecule of oxygen from my body while my mother tries to snap my bottom two ribs in half.

This year’s family theme is Oz, and my mother is currently tightening a pink corset around my body, constricting it within an inch of its life.

With my newly highlighted hair, I am to be her Glinda in a classic frilly pink gown and custom tiara that remind me a little too much of my pageant show days.

She’s even gotten a structured, hooped petticoat to go underneath to give the full, poofy dress effect.

I’m not sure I’ll even fit through the door once she is done.

“Just one”—huff—“more”—huff—“tug.”

I can’t even make a noise as she finishes tying the long ribbons in a bow at the base of my back. At this rate, I’ll probably faint within the first thirty minutes of the party due to a lack of oxygen.

Actually, that isn’t a half-bad idea.

“Now, let me just grab the dress,” my mother mutters to herself as she slips into her walk-in closet.

I take shallow breaths, not wanting to pass out.

I’m honestly not even sure what would happen if I just flopped to the ground. Would the ginormous petticoat help cushion the fall or make it so my head bashes into the ground first? My upper lip curls at the morbid image.

“Alright, here we go. Arms up so I can secure the skirt around your waist.”

I peer over my shoulder and clamp my jaw shut, eyes bugging wide at the absolute behemoth of tulle she holds in her hands. I can’t even see the woman over all the material.

I silently follow her instructions, letting her fuss around as she secures the skirt around my waist and zips it together. She lets out a small gasp once the clasp is in place, and I can’t help but automatically smile at the way she admires the skirt with a look of utter glee.

“Oh, Blair. It is just stunning.” She claps her hands together. “Let me grab the bustier and we can see how it all comes together. Arms up again, okay, darling?”

“Okay.”

I raise my hands to the sky, waiting as she continues to work her magic like a designer dressing a mannequin.

She lets out a squeal, circling me as she fluffs up my hair and fixes pieces of the carefully structured tulle skirt.

“Absolutely gorgeous. Did you know this was all hand beaded? I sat with the designer for three hours to get the design perfect, and it was all worth it.”

Her attention is fully on the gown, admiring every detail she had a hand in crafting.

My chest pangs slightly, smile cracking an inch.

“Go ahead, give me a twirl.”

I take a step forward and—Oh my God, this thing weighs a ton. It’s like I’m dragging an extra hundred pounds at least. My mother might have gone a little too far this year.

I push on and muster all the core strength I have to twist around, the dress following me in a circle with a light swoosh. I do feel like a fairytale princess, but the shine is dulled as years of pageantry have desensitized me to the excitement.

“You’re certainly…pink.”

I almost trip over my feet, accepting a deadly fate, when a strong hand grips my elbow to keep me grounded.

“Josh.” I grin up at my younger brother.

We are only a year apart, and half the time he acts like he is older than me, but I adore him all the same. We weren’t the closest as children, but as we’ve aged, we’ve found more common ground. It is good to have someone who understands the pressure that comes from living in the Hanes household.

“Glinda, the Good Witch?” he asks.

“You guessed it.”

He hums, turning to our mother and giving her a bear hug. “And who am I? The Cowardly Lion? The Tin Man? The Scarecrow?”

She lets out a soft laugh. “For my sweet boy? The Tin Man. Your father and I are the Scarecrow and Dorothy while Rufus will be the Cowardly Lion.”

Ah. I should’ve figured she’d dress our golden retriever as the Lion. No one in the family is safe from tradition, not even the furry ones.

She steps back and holds my brother’s hands with unbridled excitement.

“You should see the custom suit I had created; it’s made from real tin. And I have a professional makeup artist booked for everyone. She has this perfect shade of silver face paint that pairs exactly to the costume.”

I see the moment Josh’s facade cracks, the right corner of his smile twitching up as the skin around his eye crinkles a fraction too tightly.

“Oh, super fun.”

I stifle my own laugh, but he catches the way I press my lips together since he is almost a whole head taller than our mother. He quickly sticks out his tongue, and I mimic the expression back without her seeing.

“You are a little late, sweetheart, but let me go grab your costume and we can make sure everything fits.” She pats him on the bicep before turning to me. “Don’t move, we still need to get your heels on to make sure the hem sits right.”

The second she is out of the room and I’m confident she is halfway down the staircase, I shoot Josh a narrowed side-eye.

“How did you cajole your way into showing up at two p.m. on Friday?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. “Lacrosse game.”

“The season doesn’t start until January.”

“Offseason practice match.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

I have to hand it to him, playing the sport card was a smart move. It is the one thing our parents never relent on, especially our father.

“Come on, Bumble Bee, don’t make a sour face.”

I purse my lips even further, my childhood nickname hitting home.

“You’re not the one who was stuck being primped, plucked, and prodded by Mom for the last twenty-four hours. I didn’t even get any sleep because the gardeners arrived at six this morning to leaf blow the driveway, and then the event decorators showed up at nine and started all this drilling.”

Josh winces, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yikes. Sorry, sis.”

I let out a sigh, feeling better now that I’ve finally had a chance to vent my frustrations to someone. Each year my patience seems to run thinner, but for some reason, I’m really on edge this time.

I spent the morning tidying up the fridge to make space for the desserts the patissier brought over, picking up Rufus from the groomer—where some woman accidentally lost hold of her teacup poodle, causing an entire scene—and getting a Brazilian wax even though no one is going to see it under seven layers of tulle.

I then came home to my mother having a minor meltdown over the placement of cobwebs on the balustrade and had to sit her down with a glass of wine before overseeing the decorators swinging more cobwebs—this time with little dangling strands with diamantés on the end—over the chandelier.

The house smells of cinnamon, allspice, and cloves. It is giving me a headache, which isn’t being helped, by my tiny corset.

“It’s fine.” I wave him off. “I helped get most things organized, so there really shouldn’t be anything left for us to worry about after we’ve got our costumes sorted, other than showing up for the bash.”

“Right, right. There’s nothing else.” Josh nods his head up and down, but he has this glint in his eye.

“What. What’s that look?”

He steps closer, or as close as my three-foot-wide skirt will allow him, and dips his chin. “Since we’re technically free tonight, you want to head to Old Spur with me?”

“The bar on Main?”

“Yeah, there’s a few groups going.”

Josh has to be out of his mind.

There is zero chance our parents would let us go out the night before the Halloween bash.

Well, at least there is zero chance they would allow me to go.

Josh always gets a smidge more leeway, whether it is because he is a boy or younger, I’m not sure.

Either way, there isn’t a chance in hell I’d be allowed to step foot out of this house for anything other than a Mom-approved errand between now and tomorrow evening.

Mom has crafted a very specific image of who I am, and if I get caught doing anything to ruin it, I’m done for.

Our parents are strict and abide by an “our house, our rules” mentality, and just because I’m in college doesn’t mean I’m suddenly free from their grip—especially since they hold my tuition over my head.

It’s seems a little ridiculous, and most people don’t understand it, but it’s my reality nonetheless.

“Wishful thinking, lil bro,” I scoff. “The alarm will go off before you even try.”

“What if I told you I have a way—for both of us.”

That tingle in my chest lights up, sparking my veins, and the darkness beneath my skin hums.

“I don’t know.”

A loud, clanging cacophony of metal reverberates throughout the house. It has to be Josh’s tin suit, meaning our mother isn’t too far off.

“I’m going, with or without you. Just trust me, Bee.” He pokes my shoulder a few times. “We won’t get caught. Live a little.”

I want to. I really, really, want to. I suppose sneaking out with Josh is a hell of a lot smarter than trying to sneak out on my own. I’d failed every time I’d tried that in high school.

The clanging is getting louder. Mom is probably making her way up the staircase now.

“Come on, Bee.”

Ugh.

It is either this or be stuck in the house for the next forty-eight hours until I drive back to campus on Sunday. The choice of going out tonight for at least a little fun or relegating my only social interaction to my parent’s stuffy friends tomorrow night…

“Josh, just wait until you see this. It is a masterpiece,” our mother calls out.

He raises his brows, giving me one last lifeline.

Dammit.

“Fine.”