Page 2 of Snatching Jackie (Wintermoon Shorts #5)

JACKIE

Downtown Detroit—Penobscot Building

I ’ve got a proud grin plastered across my face as I watch Monet twirl in her new dress. It fits her perfectly, hugging every curve like it was made for her body—which it was, thanks to my skilled hands. I can see the confidence growing in her eyes with each spin.

“See? The right clothes, the right style, and you shine,” I say, stepping onto the platform to fix the hem of her dress. The mirror reflects both of us—two beautiful plus-sized women owning our space.

“Jackie, I can’t thank you enough,” Monet says, her voice catching. “I came in here feeling so defeated.”

“I’m always going to show out for my plus size girlies,” I reply, examining the fabric, pinching it between my fingers. “Just a few more alterations and it will be perfect. When you come in for your makeup, this dress will be one hundred percent ready for you.”

Monet starts to cry as she stares at herself in the mirror. I sigh, shaking my head with a knowing smile. I step down from the platform, walk over to my vanity, and pull out a box of tissues from the drawer before quickly returning.

“They always cry when they see their transformation,” I say, handing her the tissues. “You’ll cry even more after you get a full face of makeup.”

I’m not judging her—I cried too when I saw my first transformation. After that day, I made it my priority to not only make sure the world knew I was beautiful as a bigger woman but also to help other bigger women understand just how beautiful they are too.

I step back quietly, giving Monet a moment to collect herself.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she repeats, dabbing at her eyes.

“No thank you needed. You did the hard part, showing up for yourself. And I love you for it.”

Monet walks over, still clutching the tissues, and wraps me in a big hug. The overwhelming gesture doesn’t throw me off—it actually makes me smile wider.

“I’ll get changed so you can make the final alterations,” she says, pulling back.

“That’s fine. I’ll get your appointment set up.”

I step down and head out of the dressing room, making my way to the front of my suite where my desktop rests at the reception desk. I move the mouse cursor to wake up the screen and start typing as my appointment calendar opens.

A jingle from the door and approaching footsteps should make me look up, but I don’t bother. Instead, I call out, “Welcome to Big Jackie’s, where curves get the love they deserve. I’ll be right with you.”

The steps get closer as I finish setting Monet’s next appointment.

“Ms. Jackie Murphy?” A sharp male voice breaks my concentration.

I finally tear my eyes from the screen and look at the man standing before me. He’s wearing the standard Penobscot Building uniform shirt along with an ID badge hanging from his neck. He’s a white man in his thirties with a clean-shaven face, tan khakis, and casual shoes that have seen better days.

“Yes, how can I help you?” I ask, straightening my posture.

He holds out an envelope. “This is for you.”

I take the envelope cautiously, my eyes narrowing. Once it’s in my hands, the man makes his exit without another word, the door closing softly behind him.

The envelope has my name on it and the building’s company logo, nothing else. I grab a letter opener from my pen holder and slice it open, then pull out the letter and scan the contents.

At first, I breathe a sigh of relief—it’s just a lease renewal reminder. I’m due to renew in two months, so this checks out. But as I scan the new lease terms, my heart plummets to my stomach.

“How the fuck is this even legal?” I mutter, and a little too loudly at that.

My suite was just fifteen hundred a month, but now they want three thousand. I can’t afford that. Sure, my business is profitable, but I can’t just double my prices to meet the demands of my greedy landlord.

“Gentrification, fuck!” I slam the paper down on my desk and let out a loud huff, looking around my beautiful space—the space I’ve poured my soul into for the past two years.

How did I not see this coming? All these new expensive high-end boutiques popping up in Downtown Detroit, turning this area into a playground for the rich.

I’ve worked so hard to build this business, and I was finally on track to save enough for a down payment on a home this year.

Now, I’m being priced out of my own boutique. It’s not fucking fair.

Monet steps out of the dressing room, and I quickly shove the paper into one of my drawers, trying to steady my emotions.

“Jackie, is everything okay?” she asks, concern etching her features.

“I’m fine, Monet, just a little setback is all.” Setback is an understatement. Does this greedy landlord even know how hard it is to take clients virtually? How hard it is to be taken seriously when you’re running your boutique out of your home?

I was making moves, and Downtown Detroit is the place to be right now. I’m getting clients left and right. Why? Because one, I’m that girl, and two, location!

I’m the plus-sized woman the world loves to hate.

I’m confident, I know my worth, my beauty.

I keep my face beat, my hair laid with a bus down middle part, lashes, nails, feet done, and I’m always dressed to impress.

Those fatphobic assholes hate to see me coming. But right now, I’m feeling defeated.

Fake it ’til you make it, Big Jackie , I silently tell myself.

“Oh, I was worried,” Monet says, studying my face. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Let’s just say some setbacks are just openings for bigger opportunities,” I reply, forcing my voice to sound upbeat.

Monet smiles, her eyes brightening. “I love your enthusiasm, Jackie. You are truly an inspiration.”

“I try to be, every day.” The words come out automatically, my customer service voice taking over while my mind races.

Monet pulls two hundred dollars from her pocket and hands it to me—part of her payment plan.

“Thank you,” I say with genuine gratitude, accepting the cash.

“I’ll have the rest of the balance next week,” she promises, walking around the counter and heading out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Once she’s gone, the panic sets in. I immediately go online to Zillow and start looking at new rentals in the area, only for my defeat to hit me harder than before. Everything is overpriced, and nothing fits my budget.

This hurts. This fucking hurts. I’m really being priced out of my own community.

In the corner of the search page, I notice an ad for Wintermoon Cruise with a special offer flashing.

Wintermoon—ha! It usually costs between $7k-$10k just to secure a ticket, and that’s for one person, not the whole family.

I’m not that desperate to see supernaturals.

Besides, I see them all the time in Detroit, heading to that nightclub Thirst Trap for safe passage to Wintermoon.

I’m right in the middle of the Great Migration for supernaturals. As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s this migration that’s brought Detroit off its knees. Because Michigan as a state had fallen into bankruptcy due to corruption across the board, years of bad policies, and political greed.

I’m a Detroiter through and through, born and raised in the heart of the D, where as big as this city is, it’s a small world. Everyone knows someone in this town. In fact, I’m related to the Blandings. Everyone in Detroit knows at least one Blanding. I laugh to myself.

I don’t know why, but I click on the ad, and a pop-up video covers most of my browser.

“Experience the majesty of Wintermoon like never before!” A smooth, enchanting voice flows from my speakers as the video shows a massive four-level cruise ship cutting through crystal-clear waters. “Aboard the Wintermoon Cruise, luxury meets adventure on Michigan’s most spectacular waterways.”

The video transitions to show passengers lounging on the sundeck, cocktails in hand, while shifters—their supernatural nature evident in their glowing eyes—attend to their every need.

“ Tour the mystical boundaries of Wintermoon Territory from the safety and comfort of our state-of-the-art vessel. Witness the breathtaking Royal Island from a distance that offers both safety and spectacular views. View the Tourist Island with our exclusive viewing packages. ”

Scenes of the ship’s elegant dining room appear, with tables covered in fine linens and plates filled with exquisite cuisine. The video shows passengers dancing under stars that seem impossibly bright, their faces alight with joy and wonder.

“ Indulge in five-star dining crafted by our supernatural chefs who bring centuries of culinary expertise to every dish. As night falls, dance beneath the stars on our moonlit deck, with entertainment that spans generations of musical mastery. ”

The camera pans across the ship’s various amenities—a sparkling pool, luxurious spa rooms, and elegant suites with panoramic views of the water.

“ All of this luxury is now within your reach with our limited-time offer. Experience peace, relaxation, and the magic of the supernatural world—all while being treated like royalty by our shifter staff who are dedicated to making your journey unforgettable. ”

The video closes with a sunset view from the ship’s bow, the waters painted in gold and crimson, with the silhouette of Wintermoon Territory visible in the distance.

“ Have you booked your cruise to Wintermoon? Paradise awaits... ”

When the video ends, it redirects me to the booking website.

I stare at the price: $4,000 for 5 days and 4 nights.

How can I say no to that? The cruise not only takes passengers on a tour of Wintermoon but travels through Lake Huron and stops in Chicago for a day before returning to Detroit.

The regular price is $7,000 for a ticket—this is a steal.

Something pulls me to spend the money. Is it the weight of my situation, or something more? When was the last time I did something nice for myself? I’ve been all work and no play.

My world has just been turned upside down. It’s stupid to book a trip like this right now—I need to be figuring out how to keep my business from going under. Yet, I pull out my wallet and start the process of booking my vacation.

“Nothing wrong with a little soft girl vacation every now and then,” I say to the empty room, clicking the “Confirm Booking” button.

Sometimes you’ve got to splurge on yourself, even when the world is falling apart around you.