Page 11 of Come Out & Prey (Apex Academy Capers #1)
“Mattie! Bruiser brought the car around. Come on!”
I tap my foot anxiously, knowing that Lucille is probably purposely holding Matilda up to spite me. My mother has no interest in going dress shopping—she simply wants to make certain I don’t acquire something befitting our ‘standing’ so she can say that I’ve disappointed the family again. Neither of my parents talk about their childhoods, but I can only imagine the type of family atmosphere that produced the parents who had so little interest in raising me.
The small, thin hawk shifter hurries out of the house, her large bag clutched to her side as she follows me toward the enormous Hummer. She waits for me to get in the back before sliding in next to me and shutting the door. I can feel the nervous energy radiating off of her as she watches the glaring Komodo in the front seat. Her fingers reach up to adjust her glasses and she clears her throat.
“Madame Lucille instructed me to have you visit Dingo & Anaconda first. She would like St. Leopard to be second, and Preyda after that.” Bruiser grunts and starts the car, and my ex-nanny turns to me. “She also added that if we do not find attire at those, we may visit Growlvinchy. All stores will have a dedicated attendant for us and shoe concierges. They will provide any other necessities the day of—I assume your father will open the vault to bring the needed jewels home.”
Bringing my hands to my face, I hold back a scream. Now I know why he’s been scarce. Bruno is running around gathering the ingredients for a press gaggle to be present at the prom on Friday. He’ll force me to wear the family jewels for all to see, and that will cement me as the ‘heir apparent all grown up’ in the press.
I guess he got the idea of running around being a gross old man at the casinos with Pink’s disgusting dad. The Barrington shark is a slimy, shifty eyed asshole, which is why I’ve never once agreed to spend the night at her house. Her ‘Daddy’ shit creeps me out.
“Mattie,” I say, choosing my words carefully with Bruno’s lackey in the driver’s seat. “I’m very grateful that Lucille arranged all of this for me. Please let her know her personal attention was invaluable.”
A tiny smile quirks at the corners of her mouth. Matilda has had years to interpret my appreciation for her efforts from compliments aimed at my mother. No one can ever outshine Lucille, and despite her complete lack of interest in anything but berating me, she cannot bear for me to treat Mattie kindly. I don’t know if it’s pride or some small part of her that recognizes what a pitiful excuse for a parent she is. Either way, I’ve always made sure that Mattie gets the thanks she richly deserves.
The car falls silent for the duration of the trip into the city, and the time passes quickly. I text the Heathers to let them know what our game plan is, and of course, they all have their own suggestions for what area of the stores I should start with. I’m not as familiar with the designers as they are—I order my clothes online, and I don’t favor high-end fashion houses. I’d much rather wear clothes that are comfortable than things that feel like a costume.
The car stops abruptly in front of a store and Bruiser turns around. “We’re here. Get your things. I won’t wait.”
Matilda blinks behind her thick round frames, and I give her a reassuring pat on her hand. Bruiser will not throw us out the door and take off, but he won’t waste time, either. She doesn’t know how he behaves without my parents around, so I know it must be making her nervous. “Thank you, Bruiser. We will have the final store contact you when we are ready to be picked up.”
His rough grunt is the only response and Matilda looks at me with wide eyes. I smile again, waiting for the car to slow to stop in front of the house of Dingo & Anaconda. Generations ago, this unlikely pairing of preds created a design alliance, and their collections have been coveted by the rich and famous.
I’m uncertain they will have anything I would be caught dead wearing, but Lucille insisted. Last spring, they featured a bunch of weird mismatched, patchwork designs that looked like Frankenclothes. Lucille bought several pieces with bold black and white checkerboard patterns that made her look like she was trying to relive the 70s, and I couldn’t even look at her without having to smother a giggle.
As we enter the boutique, I feel the change in the air. I wouldn’t put it past the high-end fashion houses to pump in pred-stasy through the filtration system to encourage large purchases. Although it’s shady, the drug is as legal as caffeine, and you’d have to prove they dosed their customers.
Good luck with that... most shoppers are already drunk or on some form of upper when they arrive, anyway. None of my friends' parents would submit to a drug test voluntarily, and mine would probably eat the unfortunate soul who had to ask.
“It’s very…” Matilda whispers.
I sigh and nod my head, appreciating that she already knows nothing here is my style. “It is. But we’ll start here and work our way through Lucille’s suggestions. Maybe I’ll find something not awful in one of them. It is pretty close to the wire, though, and most of the designers have probably signed exclusivity contracts with the elite families.”
“Welcome to Dingo & Anaconda,” the smarmy looking concierge gushes. “Your mother has called ahead to have us put aside a selection of gowns in your size. Follow me to the dressing lounge. Would you like champagne? Maybe something stronger?”
Giving him a wide berth, I shake my head. Mattie looks like she could use a scotch, but I will not get either of us busted for imbibing by accepting anything this creep offers. “No, thank you. May I ask what size Luc—my mother told you? I want to make sure we have it correct to reduce the amount of oils from hands on your lovely designs.”
“But of course! Your mother asked us to pull dresses in a size four and six.”
“Delores will need you to re-stock those and find the same designs in a size twelve. I'm afraid mothers never want their daughters to grow up,” Mattie interjects before I lose my temper in front of the slimy little toad.
I should have known.
Lucille purposefully told the designers I am several sizes smaller than I am to humiliate me. I’m going to have this conversation at every store we visit today if I don’t find a dress that suits me here. Her cruelty knows no bounds—truly. She’s determined to make me feel like shit. I can only assume this is her revenge for asking if Matilda could take me.
I enter the dressing room and wait for Mr. Creepy Weasel to bring the pre-approved dresses back in the right size. When he knocks on the door, I open it and my chest caves. They are all big, fluffy princess gowns... I’d be right at home in Disney World with all the cartoon characters roaming around. I don’t want to dress like I’m going to ride in a pumpkin carriage.
Damn Lucille. She’d never wear something this ridiculous, and she knows I wouldn’t want to, either. That leopard thinks of everything and I’m going to have to work hard to escape her clutches some day.
With a heavy sigh of frustration, I try on the marshmallow gowns, snapping pics for the Heathers as I go. At least I’ll have evidence that I gave Lucille’s suggestions a fair try.
“Delores, if you don’t find a dress at Growlvinchy, your mother will be furious!” Matilda frets, looking around us as we walk down the ritzy boulevard. “She insisted we choose a piece from the designers she is currently pleased with.”
“I know, Mattie, but she had every store pull every stupid poofy meringue dress they had in their stockroom. It was her idea of a joke, and every one of the personal shoppers at the stores we were in refused to show me anything else. I can not go to my prom dressed like Cinderella!”
The hawk shifter sighs, straightening her glasses as we approach the sleek obsidian marble of the Growlvinchy boutique. This designer was not on her list last night, and I’d love to know what underhanded deal Lucille worked out to get me in here. It has to be substantial because we know Gautier Growlvinchy likes to give the finger to anyone he doesn’t like, even those as powerful as Lucille.
A pangolin valet opens the double doors of the elite showroom and we step inside. They perfumed the air with a customized scent and I inhale, trying to catch the notes. The small, obsequious animal bows to us, his claw-like hands clasped together as he does so.
“You’re smelling violet, musk, freesia, sandalwood, and a few other top secret ingredients. Can’t give away the farm, I’m afraid, but I’ll give you a hint.”
My eyes widen as I realize the impeccably dressed predator who just joined us is Gautier himself. His legendary wild mane of striped hair falls to his shoulders, just barely touching the shiny black sharkskin suit. His bow tie, pocket square, and shoes are a fiery orange with matching stripes—the world-famous signature of the best dressed tiger in pred-dom.
“I…”
“Tut, tut, Miss Drew. It’s unbecoming for a young lady of your stature to babble. Follow me to the VIP lounge. I will begin with a fitting, regardless of what I was asked prior to you arriving, before I choose the designs. I find it makes for a more satisfying experience for everyone involved.”
For a moment, both shock and gratitude war within me, and Matilda reaches over to shut my mouth gently. No one defies Lucille—her wrath has destroyed entire industries—but this incredibly odd fashion diva seems wholly unconcerned whether his executive decisions will get back to her.
Swallowing hard, I whisper, “Thank you. I can’t express how much I appreciate your approach, Monsieur Growlvinchy.”
His sharp bark of laughter fills the gilded room, and he shakes his head. “Oh, no, Miss Drew. If you are to wear my creations, we will become friends. My friends call me Luc. And you are?”
“Delores,” I murmur.
“That simply will not do! A luscious predator like you cannot be called something so… pedestrian. I will ponder on it as we begin.” He claps his large hands and a virtual fleet of pangolins comes waddling out to usher us towards the back of the store. They are making a weird chuffing sound as they scurry alongside us.
“Luc, are these your assistants? I've never seen designers allow prey animals to shift fully in front of them without threatening to eat them all the time.” Growlvinchy’s control is impressive.
“That’s a fabulous question! Usually clients simply ignore my friends here as if they are furniture. This is an entire colony that I’ve gathered from unsafe situations during my travels. Emile is their leader—you met him at the door—and although they are usually solitary prey animals, they all live in a group in my compound.”
Tilting my head, I give the tiger a confused look. “That seems like a very... unusual living arrangement for a predator.” He laughs again, his golden eyes dancing as he opens the door to another room.
He walks me over to a raised area in the center of the lavish lounge, holding his hand out to help me step up onto the platform. “It is. However, I have lived long enough and traveled widely enough to know that the status quo is boring and often allows for tyranny. I have enough fortune and fame to allow me leeway to do things that make me happy, and having my friends safe and happy is one of those things. Plus, after I met Emile on an Asian tour, I learned that his kind have absolutely astounding talents for fabric and fine detail work, which of course makes them perfect allies for me.”
I ponder that as Matilda takes a seat on the plush chaise, crossing her ankles as she watches me. Luc buzzes around me as he takes my measurements, occasionally asking me to move a limb or turn as he shouts the numbers to the pangolin, taking notes on a thick notepad. From toes to my nose, he checks every single curve and line to make sure he has it written.
When he finishes with the measuring tape, he sighs and smiles at me. “Ah, the Botticelli-esque lines of unenhanced figures. I rarely see it anymore. Okay, delightful girl. Hop over to your minder and tell me what kind of dress you wish you could own.”
This is not the experience I expected when we walked through the doors of one of the most famous designers in the world, but it’s definitely the best thing we’ve done all day. I sit next to Matilda, thinking for a moment before I respond. “Something that doesn’t make me feel like a child playing dress up.”
“ Oui! Parfait! ” he exclaims, turning on his heel and heading for the back room. “I shall return with your dress.”
Turning to Matilda, I whisper, “This is weird, right? I mean, I’m supposed to try things on. Gold liked that Preyda, and Purple thought the pink St. Leopard looked good. Should I have gotten those? Luc is so nice, but how can he know what I need from… that?”
“Delores, I don’t think the dresses they gave you were right for you. Your friends... may have been trying to... look on the bright side. Make something good out of your mother’s suggestions. So they picked what they felt was the least objectionable option.”
Even my ex-nanny doesn’t look convinced by her own words, but if she wanted to say more, she would. I nod, chewing my lip as I worry. “If we don’t find the right thing here, Lucille will win. Again. It will ruin the biggest night of my life.”
“Oh, my,” the hawk shifter whispers.
I expected Matilda to accept my choice to take the next step with Todd. I thought she liked him—at least a little—and I frown, ready to open my mouth to defend him. Instead, I feel her hand gently grab my chin and turn my face towards the other side of the room.
Luc walks in with a single black dress held aloft on its hanger. The satin shimmers in the low light, accentuating the mermaid cut and long train the pangolin is holding off the floor as they follow him. It looks like modern design meets Holly Golightly, and it’s amazing. I think I saw T. Swift wear something like it at the Grammys one year.
“The sweetheart neckline paired with off-the-shoulder straps will accentuate your curves and long neck. If I’m right—and I always am—the hourglass shape will highlight every curve, and the train will force you to walk with an elegant gait. Too many women rush their entrance… it’s the anticipation that makes the presentation striking,” Growlvinchy says, his expression amused.
Another pangolin rushes forward, its claws dangling a pair of four-inch heels in black satin with very thin straps at the ankles and toes. They covered the straps and heels in sparkling diamonds, and if they’re real, this will put a dent in Lucille’s fun money account like no other. They don’t have the telltale red sole of Leopardtins when I peek underneath. That’s odd—those are the hottest shoes in the world at the moment.
Luc claps his hands again, looking delighted. “Good eye, delightful girl! I did not pick shoes from my great friend Leopartin for you because all the girls will wear them. These are handmade by my colleague and occasional date, Messier Stuart Pyzman. They are the crème de la crème of exclusivity. He only fashions less than a hundred pairs of shoes a year.”
“Are you sure I should wear shoes that are so…delicate?” I ask, almost afraid to touch something so beautiful and expensive.
“You should try it on, Delores,” Matilda says softly, giving me a small smile. “I believe Monsieur Growlvinchy has outdone himself.”
Blinking, I rise to my feet, bolstered by the encouragement of those around me. If they think I’m worthy of such lovely designs… then maybe I am?
The pangolin holding the shoes crooks a claw at me and I nod, following the creature as it waddles towards an area with a curtain for me to change behind. Stepping into the tiny room, I wait for the tiger to hang the garment on the rack and close my eyes.
Lucille will be furious with me for choosing something so unlike what she selected. But maybe it’s time for me to do what the Heathers suggested and grow a pair of fangs.
After all, prom will be the first night of my life as a true predator, and after that, my parents won’t be able to control me anymore.
It’s time to grow up, Delores Diamond Drew.