13. Alexandra
thirteen
On our way to Game Night, Grace and I spot Skye and Christopher’s silhouettes on The Green. Christopher is effortlessly ice-skating backwards in front of Skye. A delicious scent of hot chocolate and sugar comes from a small hut decorated like a ginger house next to the skating rink. Kids are lined up and leave with steaming cups and waffles. “Aunt Grace! Alek-zandra! Look!” Skye’s high-pitched voice calls out. We make a detour to join them, and Skye proceeds to race around the rink, upper body leaned forward, hands clutched to the small of her back.
Skye hurls herself to the railing, ducks under it, and talks Grace into taking her to the sugar hut. Christopher’s eyes fleet to his daughter and cousin walking away, then he skates to me, eyes on mine. “Going to Game Night?” he says as he comes to an abrupt stop in front me. He’s wearing nothing but jeans, a ski sweater, and a beanie pulled down to his ears, hair curling out of it.
I clench my thighs and nod.
“I like that for you, Alexandra.”
Um… Okay?
He bends over the railing, like he’s about to tell me a secret.
I lean into his space. His warm space.
“I hear Cassandra is something of a witch,” he says. “Throws spells and shit. Make sure you don’t… you know… knock down a tray or something. Retaliation and all that.”
Then he skates away, and a slow grin spreads across my face while I stifle a chuckle.
On our way, Grace informs me that Cassandra sells lingerie and that her shop draws clients from three states and parts of Canada. Her shop is located in an adorable white and light-gray cape, with lights in and around the windows and alongside the walkway.
We enter through a back door leading us straight into what’s best described as a she-shed. A woman cave. White couches with gold throw pillows. Bright pink, furry armchairs. Wall-to-wall cream carpeting. A crystal chandelier. A white fireplace lit with a gentle fire. Mounted on the mantel, a faux doe head in a patchwork fabric wearing dangle diamond earrings. A mirrored bar in a corner, with a pink neon sign above it that reads, Babes Only.
Okey doke. Game Night is on.
The chatter of the group of women gathered in the room dips when we arrive, only to pick up louder as they greet me. Cassandra, a beautiful woman in her forties with streaks of blue in her hair, hugs me right away. Before moving onto the other ladies, she introduces me to Justin’s sister, a young woman named Haley with straight blond hair and pale blue eyes who’s at the bar, pouring wine into stem glasses.
“Just what I need,” I say to Haley.
She flashes back a smile. “Uh-oh. Rough day?”
“One of many.”
She hands me a glass of white wine. “Then you’ve come to the right place.”
Thanking her, I turn around and look for a place to sit. Skye’s teacher, Laura, is here, and so is Sophie, the librarian who I met on my first night in Emerald Creek. Willow makes her way to me as I sit on a comfy couch. Lucky for me, Kiara isn’t here. Grace joins me on the couch.
Willow crouches next to me and sets her hand on my knee. “You okay?” she asks with a a suppressed giggle.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Better now. I’m so sor—”
“Stop it! That tray should never have been there. And Kiara shouldn’t have reacted that way. It was her fault. She’s a little—well, a lot—hyper. But, when you get to know her, she has a heart of gold.”
“Barf Barf. Jesus. Next thing you know, she’s gonna stitch that on my apron. Yo, Bambi. Where’re your glasses?”
My body goes cold. Shoooot. Just the person I did not need tonight. “I’m so sorry, Kiara, so so sorry, I don’t know where to begin.”
She’s standing in front of me, and even though she’s of the tiny kind, she is. Frigging. Scary. She rubs her chin like she’s considering my punishment.
“I obviously didn’t mean to do that,” I continue.
She doesn’t say anything. No forget it, no water under the bridge. Nope.
“And, if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…” I trail off.
Still nothing. She just stands there, watching me squirm.
It was her fault the tray was sticking out. Someone was bound to knock it off the table.
I sit up. Enough already. “You know what, screw it.”
“Whooo hooo!” she does a little happy dance. “Fiiiiiinally. Stop taking other people’s shit. You gotta work on that. Big boss man told me already, but I couldn’t believe it ’til I saw it.”
“Christopher?”
Her eyes go soft for a beat, and she repeats, “Christopher,” all breathy-like.
Is she making fun of me? She’s totally making fun of me.
“Jeeze, Kiara, leave her alone already,” Grace says.
“Ohmygod,” Willow is holding her hand to her mouth, “you’re right, she’s totally into him. That’s so cute.”
Sophie is quiet as a mouse, looking at me with mischief in her eye.
“What’s cute?” Haley says, coming around for refills.
“Chris and Alex,” Willow says.
Please make it stop already. I put a hand out to make them stop. “Guys. Stop spreading rumors. You can’t do this. Seriously.”
Kiara explodes in a cackle. “Seriously,” she repeats, with what’s supposed to be a big voice. Then she plops herself on the armrest of the couch, next to me, but higher than me, leans over and says, “Does he snore?”
My mouth opens. “I don’t know!” I cry.
“Bambi. You sleep right above his bedroom. You can probably hear him fart too.”
“Eww, seriously,” Willow says.
“That’s gross,” Grace concurs.
“He’s a man, Grace, but I get it. Dealing with delicate ears here,” Kiara says, then puts a hand on my shoulder. “He could use some sweet in his life, after what that bitch put him through,” she says to me.
I glance up at Kiara. What bitch?
Willow plops cross-legged on the floor in front of me, and Grace sits on my other side. They have me in a tight circle.
“Grace, give her the deets. You’re family.”
“They mean Skye’s biological mother. Chris wanted to marry her, and she pretty much told him he was beneath her.”
“That’s awful,” I whisper. “Were they together long?”
Kiara and Willow exchange a look.
“That’s the thing,” Grace says. “No. It was just a summer fling—”
“Didn’t last a summer,” Kiara interrupts. “He just fucked her once or twice.”
“Kiara! Really?” Grace says.
“I was there, dude. Almost.”
Grace chuckles. “Oh well, then. They had brief intercourse—”
Kiara snickers. “Potato potahto.”
“And he still wanted to take care of her, do right by her. When she turned down his marriage proposal—”
“He was stoked,” Kiara interjects.
“—he tried talking about laying the grounds for co-parenting.”
“She was already looking up adoption agencies,” Kiara drops.
“Yup,” Grace says.
“Well, shit,” I say.
Grace nods. “Now you know. Chris is a good guy. A really good guy. And he was burned really deep.”
“He still has a fine ass,” Kiara drops. “Built up some upper body muscle too. Bet she’d regret it if she saw him now.”
“Kiara! Really?”
“Gracie. Your cousin is eye candy. Right, Willow?”
“Can’t say that he’s not.” Willow has an eyebrow up.
“Right, Bambi?”
The words stay stuck in my throat.
“Right, Bambi?”
I take a long pull on my glass of wine. “Right.”
“Kay. You need to know, everything that is said here, stays here. Any information you want to volunteer, spill it. Now, tell me,” Kiara says.
“What?”
“What what?” She’s exhausting.
“Tell you what?” I ask.
“Everything,” Kiara says. “Let’s start with why he came down from your bedroom your first morning here bare-chested, hair wet, I need sex now written all over his face.”
I’m mortified. She saw that too? Who else? Ohmygod.
“That’s enough!” Grace cries.
“It’s okay, Bambi. Your face says it all. Like I said, he could use some sweet in his life. And I like you for him.”
“You are making her so uncomfortable, it’s almost funny,” Willow says. “But you gotta stop now.”
“I do?”
“You do.”
“Kay then.” And just like that, Kiara leaves my side.
“She gonna torture someone else now?” I whisper.
Willow takes the seat freed by Kiara and laughs out loud. “God, I love you. You’re the best.”
I breathe easier, take another long sip of my wine, and look around as Willow stands to greet someone. I know over half the people here, and I relax.
While I’m getting settled, someone takes out a game of Clue, and cards are shuffled and distributed. Willow and Haley are together chatting non-stop, while Cassandra, Sophie, and Kiara twirl the wine in their glasses, focusing on the game.
After that, the evening goes by quickly, and I stifle a yawn.
Cassandra stands and takes my hand. “Come with me before we send you away.”
She takes me to her lingerie shop, which is decorated in much the same fashion as the women’s cave, expect the most exquisite pieces of lingerie are displayed framed on the wall, or on free standing racks, well-spaced out from one another. “Take your clothes off,” she says.
I freeze.
“Most of them.”
She gently nudges me toward a dressing room large enough to comfortably fit a delicately carved armchair and matching settee upholstered in a carmine velour.
I don’t know if it’s the wine or Cassandra’s soothing voice and confident manner, but I strip down to my underwear.
She whips the curtain open, unannounced. Before I have time to feel like my privacy is being invaded, she declares, “Mother of god, you are even more beautiful undressed than dressed. That’s uncommon. You really have nothing to hide, do you?”
Somehow, she manages to make her comments and invasion of my space sound totally normal.
She eyes my breasts with the gaze of a professional. “Take your bra off. You can keep the panties on.”
I guess, at this point, I might as well do as I’m told. I feel like I’m at the doctor’s, except I’m a little tipsy and the decor is super sexy. Plush carpeting, soft lighting, and mirrors all around the fitting room.
Cassandra grabs a measuring tape and places it right underneath my breasts and around my back. I raise my arms to lift my breasts farther from her fingers. But then, she swiftly moves the measuring tape up and smack across my nipples, the cold plastic making them harden.
I’m mortified.
She mumbles the measurements and writes them down in a thick, leather-bound notebook. Then, she moves to my waist and hips and does the same.
I’m out of the woods.
Or maybe not.
“Spread your legs for me,” she says, and, when I do, in two movements, she measures my height from the base of my neck to my pubic bone, front and back.
The humiliation is real, and my appreciation of her lessening by the second. “Are we done?” I snap.
“That’s a good start.” She hands me a robe. “Hang tight.”
She comes back with a copper-colored bustier that fits me to perfection. The demi bra shows a generous share of my breasts without being tacky. The sheer fabric is delicately embroidered with golden threads. A row of tiny buttons runs from between the breasts all the way to the bottom, but a hidden front zipper makes the garment easy to put on and take off. The bustier stops right below my belly button in a V shape. The back has a decorative set of ribbon ties.
As Cassandra zips up the bustier, she swiftly slides a hand in each bra cup to adjust my boobs up. “Shows those babies,” she says.
I’m shell shocked by the feeling of her touch on my sensitive nipples. But she clearly thinks nothing of it.
“Try the panties,” she says before leaving the room, handing me a matching thong I slip over my underwear.
When she’s gone, I try to breathe the burn off my cheeks. Once I feel comfortable again, I turn around on my toes, arch my back and admire myself in the mirrored fitting room. Who’s this sexy, confident bombshell with lush hair cascading down her generous breasts, a thin waist, long legs, and killer ass?
What would Christopher think?
“How much will this set me back?” I ask from behind the curtain, my initial displeasure with Cassandra totally forgotten.
“How’s a lifetime of true love and pleasure? If you’re ready for it.”
I chuckle.
“I’m serious. Don’t let just anyone see you in this. You’ll be stuck with them. Choose carefully.” She is serious, her tone tinged with a note of mystery. She writes my name in purple ink on the parchment-like tag affixed to the garments. No brand, just the silhouette of an owl. Then she wraps it all in silk paper.
“This is your talisman, Alexandra. My gift to you. Use it wisely.”