AllFreeNovel
Share Us
While he kissed me, he took my hand and placed it over his heart. It was beating just as fast as mine.
I wanted to feel free to have sex with him or get any sort of affection I wanted with him, but I was becoming aware that we were in public.
He seemed to sense it too, in particular when someone parked really close to us and walked around our car to get to wherever they were going.
He pulled away but kept his eyes on me. “Will you let me get you some damn shoes, please?”
“Just the basics,” I said in a soft tone. I wanted to comply. Not that I didn’t enjoy wearing some of his things. Sometimes I did it because he got annoyed with it and that made me happy. But in that moment, I didn’t want to fight about this. I wasn’t asking him to do this. He was offering. If we needed to do this to get out of here, that’s what I wanted to do.
??????
Instead of heading into the outdoor market along King Street, Marc pulled me toward another building, one which I’d never been in before. All I knew before today was that really wealthy people went in. It could have been an office building for all I knew.
So I was surprised when we were inside and I was looking at shops. It was sort of like the mall, but all the shops were smaller boutiques with fancy signs hanging over the doors. The window displays were done up in the best of the best the store had to offer, with jewelry displays, mannequins showcasing the latest fashions, and gift shops with big, glittery expensive stuff.
All the halls were window displays. There were security cameras currently being installed at nearly every few feet. A security guard was posted near the entrance and he tipped his head in our direction as we entered.
A thief’s worst nightmare. Nowhere to escape to if I lifted a wallet. I hadn’t even known this place to be a mall, which was probably a good thing. I would have been far too tempted by the challenge and the idea these people wouldn’t miss their money as much.
Good thing I didn’t do that anymore.
But out of habit, I kept my head down and tried not to look people in the face. I already felt out of place in the clothes I was wearing. Street rats shouldn’t be here.
Not that Marc’s clothes were street rat, just me wearing them made me feel like one.
It was hard to keep my head down. The whole hall, the window displays, they were all decked out for Christmas. Some had gift-wrapped boxes as if to show that this shop could giftwrap your purchased items.
“I think we’re in the wrong place,” I said, unable to peel my eyes off every dazzling, sparkling thing.
“There’s normal stuff,” he said. He tugged at my wrist and pulled me away from watching a Christmas train in a display going around some expensive vases and gift items. “Come on. There’s a girl shop up here, I think.”
There was a bright pink and peach clothing shop to the left, and he walked me right into it. I hovered just inside the doorway while he checked out what was on the racks.
The clothing was oddly shaped to me, and when he pulled out a dress, the front material hung over on itself.
The lady working the counter, busy with a woman carrying a toddler on her back, seemed to be eyeballing us.
Marc put the dress back. “Wrong section?”
“Wrong store,” I said. “This is maternity clothing.” I tried not to grumble. It wasn’t his fault, but it reminded me again of what I’d probably never have for myself. I hadn’t ever thought about a kid before. I wasn’t ready to deal with it. I was just angry at the option not being there for me.
He blinked and looked around. “Oh. So…nothing you like here?”
I rolled my eyes. But the lady behind the counter was leaving the customer to come talk to us.
Marc waved to her. “Sorry, I was trying to get her to buy something nice.”
“Haven’t shopped here before?” she asked.
He scratched the back of his head. “Not for girls.”
“Need any help with that?” said a voice behind me, nearly spooking me out of my boots.
I turned to find a mousey haired girl, her hair cut short. Her face had tiny features. She was dressed plainly in a turtleneck sweater and slim, dark pants and high heels and with a wildly colorful sash around her waist.
The shop attendant for the maternity store called to her. “Gretchen! Good to see you. Sounds like they could use your help.”
“Sure, if you’ve a minute,” Marc said, seeming eager. He walked up beside me and motioned to me with a palm. “Thing is, Kayli here needs some clothes. What’s a good place?”
“What kind of clothes?” she asked.
“Nice ones?” Marc said. “Girly?”
“Nope!” I said, although a little too loud, in protest. “No,” I said a bit quieter. “Just street clothes. Normal clothes. Nothing fancy.” I wasn’t going to get stuck with just evening gowns and skirts and fancy things. If he tried that, he was going to wake up tomorrow with all his stuff hidden and only a maternity dress to wear.
Gretchen eyeballed me and then Marc and then me again. “Are you sure?”
“Very,” I said. “I need to be able to run in them.”
Marc coughed once.
“And do normal stuff,” I continued. Not like I could explain the need to randomly run in street clothes, but I wanted to get across the point. No fancy dresses. If I was going to have to fight for my life with Alice and take her down, I didn’t want my legs caught up in a skirt.
Gretchen looked me over head to toe and then motioned for me to follow her. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you fitted first.”
Fitted? I followed like she wanted me to, but when I stepped up beside her, I gave her a questioning eyeball. “What?”
“When was the last time you were measured?”
Was this a trick question? “I think I’m a medium,” I said, not even sure if that was true. I didn’t often check sizes. I just guessed and put things on.
Gretchen guided the way down the hall, speaking to me. “That’s fine. It just lets me know where to begin. And with you, at the beginning. If you’re going to be running in clothes, you need them to fit well.”
“I’m not saying it’s all running,” I said.
“But you need certain types of clothes because you’re an active person.”
“Only some of the time. Short bursts.”
She waved to my attire. “Is this your preference?”
I shrugged. “It’s okay. To be honest, I’m pretty basic.”
“She doesn’t really have any clothes at the moment,” Marc said behind us. “She’s been borrowing mine.”
She seemed to consider this and nodded. “So we need to start from the very, very beginning. Basics. I think I’ve got some ideas for you. Luckily, I had a cancellation, so I’m free. You’ve got perfect timing.”
Cancellation? I thought she was just going to show us some shop that fit what I needed. “So…who are you?”
Before she could respond, I got distracted. The hallway had ended, and we arrived at an expansive room where two elegant marble staircases nearly encircled the largest Christmas tree I’d ever seen. Bedecked to overflowing with Christmas decorations, displays of wrapped Christmas gifts and a bigger train, big enough to carry children if you fed it a couple of quarters. A large chandelier hung over the Christmas tree, nearly touching the tip, looking like an upside-down crystal tree itself. There was a piano playing somewhere, and around the edges of this large room were restaurants and more shops. Another hall matched the one we were leaving on the other side.
She headed for the staircase. “My name is Gretchen, but mostly people call me Gretta now. My shop is up here.”
I couldn’t help but gawk at the idea. “You own a shop?”
“A clothing boutique. I’m a designer and make custom outfits.”
I wanted to pause, but I felt like I was floating up the stairs with her, following her in shock.
Custom clothes.
A fashion designer.
I was
way out of my league.
So was Marc. He couldn’t afford this.
I left Marc a very long, very scared look. We were going to have to say no. Couldn’t she tell we weren’t going to be able to afford this? She should know better than to invite just anyone up to her shop.
He seemed completely oblivious, and also curious, urging me to continue. I was going to say something. What did I care what she thought of me? It’s not like I’d see her again.
Only, he motioned me to continue and nudged me with a finger when I tried to defy this silent request.
This was going to be a disaster.
Gretchen led the way along the second floor of the mall, passing by other boutiques and a spa before arriving at one shop that didn’t have any window displays at all. It was striking in its simplicity compared to the other stores. The door was frosted glass with “Tissu Deux.”
“This is it,” she said.
“Tissu?” I asked her.
“It’s French for fabric.”
