Tilly 14.
I hang up my office phone, then pick it up once more, type in my code to send all my calls to voicemail and hang up the receiver with a sense of satisfaction. No bank work for almost three days.
Tonight is the charity gala. Months in the making. I’m excited, worried, anxious, terrified, and so damn happy all at the same time. Everything has come together, and I truly think tonight will be a major success. Tickets sold out two weeks ago, bringing in almost half a million dollars alone. Our auction items are incredible, and I know the governor has already expressed interest in the vintage motorcycle Lincoln donated.
While I’ll humbly take credit for planning and organizing, the Congressionals MC and their affiliates have taken this from a dream to reality. They have proven invaluable, and I hope the city, county, hell, the state recognizes their contribution to bettering Independence. I know I couldn’t have done this without them. And I wouldn’t have wanted to. Getting to know the individual members and the ol’ ladies as I have over the last couple months made the entire process more enjoyable than usual. And I feel like I’ve made real friends.
“Woman. I’m gonna need you to back up off me.”I stand from my desk at the raised voices in the hallway.
“You can’t go back there!”
“I can go wherever I damn well please. Do you know who I am?”I sit back down and finish turning everything off and gathering my things, an obnoxious grin on my face.
“No. Should I?”
“I am Mama! Fourth Boob! Eater of Milk Duds! And Queen of Spilt Tea! Bow down before me and get out of my way!”
KellyAnne breaches my doorway first, her usual exasperated expression firmly in place.
“What does any of that mean?” Patrice asks snottily outside my office.
“It means…we’re here to abduct our honorary boob and go get prettified for the charity gala.”
“And who are you?”
“Here we go.” Someone mutters, I think it’s Tiffany.
“I am Merith, First Boob, Cupcake, and Spontaneous Pisser.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“Patrice!” I yell. She sticks her head around the doorjamb. “They are friends of mine. You can go back to work.”
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Oh, no she didn’t.” Mama Domica snaps from behind Patrice.
I glance at the clock, “About 5 minutes ago, I officially started my scheduled time off.” Patrice huffs and disappears, thankfully.
Samantha, typically the quiet one, growls after Patrice. “She’s unpleasant.”
“You tell ‘em, Mouse!” Mama cheers with a shoulder nudge to Samantha, then elbows her way into my office. “Let’s go, Tilly, we’ve got places to go and people to make jealous.”
I stare at the growing group of women crowding my office; KellyAnne, Merith, Domica, Tiffany, Samantha, and Audrey. My heart pounds against my ribcage, unbridled joy pumping through my veins. I’ve got people. A gaggle. Friends.
It seems every day, I find another confirmation I made the right choice in following Tybalt to Independence. And several of them are staring at me expectantly.
“Oh, right. Sorry, lost in thought. Let’s go.” I grab my bag and keys. In the hallway, I make sure to lock my office door, then turn to the women. “Um. Where are we going? I have to get to the venue to make sure everything is set up—”
“Right now,” Tiffany links her arm with mine and pulls me down the hall, “you have nothing to do but be pampered. You’ll be at the venue in plenty of time.”
“Pampered?”
Merith bounces on her feet, her red curls flying everywhere. “Yup! Manicures, pedicures, make-up and hair! Then, twatwaffle is going to reveal her latest creations.” She steeples her hands and taps her fingertips together like a villain.
“Cool. Cool.” We are almost to the front doors of the bank, “Who’s twatwaffle?”
KellyAnne makes an indistinguishable sound in her throat, almost animal-like, “That would be me.”
About 20 minutes later, we walk into a local salon where Quinn, Stacy, and Betty are already waiting. I barely get out a greeting to them before I’m whisked into a back room and stripped of my socks, shoes, and free will.
I’m not complaining though. This is nice. KellyAnne picks out an orange nail polish for me with gold glitter. Conversation starts and stops as we play musical salon chairs. I listen with tears in my eyes as Audrey explains how she came to be involved with the Congressionals MC, I’m angry with Quinn’s ex-husband and her family for how she’s been treated and how stupid Ford is, I’m in awe of the boobs for their resilience and big hearts, and I’m jealous of Stacy’s cooking skills, and I’m a little scared of Betty…because she’s Betty.
By the time we’re finished, I almost forget the purpose of prettifying ourselves. When we pull into the clubhouse parking lot, I glance at Betty in the rear-view mirror. She meets my eyes from the driver’s seat and shrugs. “Your brother helped get your stuff together and dropped it off before he went to the venue to supervise.”
I fight back the urge to cry at my brother actually being helpful. Don’t get me wrong, Tybalt is my best friend. But forethought isn’t his strong suit. I’m ushered into the building and up to Betty and Madison’s apartment. Their living room looks like what you’d see behind the curtain at a fashion show. Hanging racks filled with dresses in various colors, patterns, and material. Shoe boxes lining one wall. Clear cases of jewelry cover the top of two dressers. I look at Betty and Stacy in shock.
Stacy grins, clapping her hands together, “We don’t get to dress up very often, let alone, get our men to do the same. We might have gone a bit overboard, but who gives a fuck!”
“Tilly?” I follow KellyAnne to one of the clothing racks when she nods her head in that direction. “I hope it doesn’t offend you, but after spending time with you, I decided to do an American twist using your Indian heritage as inspiration. If you don’t like it, I can…um…nothing. I can’t do anything since we have to leave shortly, but I’ll try—”
“Twatwaffle,” she growls, which makes me laugh and doesn’t deter me from continuing, “I know whatever you came up with will be gorgeous. And I am touched that you put so much thought into my dress, when you had so many others to make.”
She waves off my gratitude, but I know she has been a busy woman. She not only made dresses for all of us, but she made the men’s outfits too. I won’t let her minimize her contribution or talent.
Not letting me see it until it’s on, I shyly strip down and put on the strapless bra and panties set she hands me. KellyAnne assists me into her creation. She fusses here and there, then beckons someone over with a flick of her wrist. Samantha steps in front of me with a jewelry set in her hand.
“Close your eyes.” She insists with a smile. Eyes closed, I feel her insert an earring into each ear, drape a delicate necklace around my throat, slide a ring on my middle finger and a bracelet on my wrist. I’m prompted, eyes still closed to step into a pair of low-heeled shoes.
It feels as if my blood is carbonated, bubbling through my body. I feel like a princess. But not one of those that’s married off for the sake of peace between warring countries to an old bachelor prince who smells like rotten meat…wow, that was oddly specific. I just mean, I feel special.
“Open your eyes, Matilda.” Merith whispers, uncharacteristically soft in her delivery. Slowly, I open my eyes just a little bit, a narrow slit and I’m flummoxed by what I see.
“Wow.” They pop open the rest of the way, darting from my hair to my makeup, to the jewelry and shoes. Starting at my feet, I follow the lines of the dress up a surprisingly long body with womanly proportions, delicate collarbone, slender neck, bright eyes, and a smile any dentist would be proud to take credit for.
“Is this a trick mirror? Like in one of those funhouses? Or the department stores so you buy their clothes even though you look hideous in them in real life?”
“Fucking retail.” KellyAnne hisses behind me as she fusses with my dress. Iridescent burnt orange fabric drapes over one shoulder, nipped waist and long A-line skirt with slits on both sides. White flowers dotted sparsely on the top, more concentrated on the bottom. Sheer white with orange flowers starts just under my arm on the open shoulder side, across my chest, and over my other shoulder to create a sort of cape/train down the back.
“You made this?” My voice cracks on a broken whisper, but KellyAnne hears me all too well. She nods with a beaming smile. “For me?”
“Specifically for you.”
“Someone insult me! Make me angry! Tell me my breath smells!” The room silences at my outburst. I start flapping my hands in front of my eyes, “I’m gonna start crying!”
“Oh, honey.” Samantha, aka Mouse, cups my face with a gentle smile. “Your makeup is waterproof and set. Cry if you want, but you look…radiant.”
“So do all of you!” I wail, wishing like hell my mom was here to see me. She’d love the dress and these ladies. She’d be happy for me and the life I’m beginning to build here in Independence.
“We look fuckin’ hawt.” Merith proclaims, forcing all of us to gather near the mirror.
“We sure do!” Betty agrees, raising a glass of champagne in the air. One is placed in my hand, and I raise it with the others. “Now, let’s go make our men swallow their tongues.”
“I’d rather they swallow mine!” Stacy says, causing us all to laugh.
Carefully, I don’t wear heels often, I follow the others along some hallways and down a set of stairs. A broad grin stretches my mouth obnoxiously, as I take in all the men in tuxedos. It’s a sight to see, however, my breath catches and everyone else ceases to exist when I spot Wilson standing near the back of the group of men in the clubroom. His cummerbund and tie match my dress. His more pepper than salt curly hair is somewhat tamed and styled with something to hold it in place. His eyes are bright and wide and fixed on me as I make my way down the stairs. I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat on a hard swallow before he’s pushing the others out of the way and extends a hand to me.
Just like any other time we touch or are near one another, it feels as though an electric current travels from his warm palm to mine, up my arm and into my chest as my world rights itself.
“Matilda.” My name on his tongue with such awe. Never in my life have I felt like I mattered so much to someone else. My brother loves me, my parents adored me, aunts, and uncles…family is different. I guess. I have been more fortunate than most with those I’m related to by blood. But the way Wilson makes me feel…it is a revelation. “My God…stunning.” He leans in close, dropping a chaste kiss to the side of my mouth.
“I feel like a princess.” I giggle, a little drunk on the moment, not from my one glass of champagne. “I’ve been pampered and waxed, and massaged, and painted, and dressed…and now I’ve got my very own Prince Charming to escort me to the ball.”
“At midnight though,” he whispers in my ear, my skin prickling from his breath, “no pumpkins, no mice, just you and me, the taste of your arousal on my lips, and the tight clutch of your pussy around my cock.”
“Wilson!” I nearly choke, not expecting him to be so…direct. I shouldn’t be surprised; he’s been up front and honest from the beginning. “You aren’t fair.”
He pushes against me until my back meets a wall. His nose at my throat, his voice rumbles beneath my ear, “You wet for me, baby? You thinking about tonight when I can finally sink between your thighs and fuck you until your forget your name?”
“I’m having a hard time remembering it now.” I mutter, earning a dark chuckle from Wilson.
“I know we all look damn good, but horniness is no excuse for tardiness!” Domica claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Well, it is, but not for Tilly.”
“Yes, Mama,” I reply flatly, pushing Wilson’s chest so I can adult. Looking up at him, I’m momentarily speechless at how handsome he is and how absurd it is to think that he’s mine. Actually and really and totally mine. So weird. I shake my head to snap back to reality, “Is my carriage ready, sir?”
“It is, mon cheri.” I slide my arm through his bent elbow and allow him to lead me out of the clubhouse. I force him to stop just inside the main doors.
Turning to face the room, with my heart in my throat, I manage to croak out, “Thank you, all of you. Supporting the event, your donations and time, seamstress skills…thank you for being you.” Gripping Wilson’s arm as tight as I can, I push through the doors and into the waning sunlight before anyone can respond. The sky is a picture-worthy swirl of pinks, oranges, purples, and yellows. The spring air in the pleasant high sixties.
“I love you.” I trip on my own feet; thankful Wilson is fast to catch me before I fall face first to the ground. Once on steady feet, my head snaps back and I stare at him with my mouth open.
“What?” My heart is beating a million miles per hour and my mouth is somehow dry and producing too much saliva at the same time.
“I love you, Tilly.”
“Why?” I drop my chin to my chest. I can’t believe I just said that. Wilson chuckles, using his thumb and forefinger on my chin to lift my face until I meet his eyes. Earnest and clear.
“Because…you’re you. Matilda Mazekat.” I tilt my head to the side, unsure what that means.
“Yes. That is my name.” He laughs harder, pulling me into his embrace, his chin resting on the top of my head as I breathe him in. He smells so good it’s not fair.
“Brains. Spirit. Perfect tits. Pretty pussy.” I smack his chest before nuzzling back between his pecs. “Heart. So much heart. I wanna protect it, nourish it, stand behind you as it changes the world.”
“Thank God for waterproof make-up!” I whisper as my emotions get the best of me, again. His fingers dig into my sides making me squirm and giggle. “And thank God, for you, Brady Wilson. Brain. Spirit. What you lack in…tits, you make up for in penis.” Body shaking with laughter, he squeezes me tighter. “And heart. So much heart.” I clear my throat, rest my chin on his sternum and arch my neck to kiss his jaw. “I love you, too.”