13. Giselle
Cold to the touch, Giselle tucked her hands into the pockets of her borrowed coat, staring out at the packed parking lot. People in expensive coats carried shopping bags in one arm and umbrellas for the mild drizzle in the other, flocking to Del Mesa”s ”Boutique Block.”
”Twas the week before Christmas, and Giselle, as most people should, wrapped up her Christmas shopping before the month began. Thanks to James, her gift list dwindled down to practically nothing.
Usually, she wouldn”t step foot near any shops during the most hectic season of the year. However, Miriam called her and invited her for some last-minute shopping, so Giselle agreed.
”Ready to shop?” Miriam”s question pulled Giselle back into the real world with her kind disposition on full display. Despite all the cars, she found a space in the packed parking lot, closer to the shops than expected.
”Yes.” Giselle reached for the door. She pulled her coat tighter when a sharper gust of wind smacked into her, the air smelling of wet pavement and the lingering clean after a hearty rain. However, a promise of rain”s return sat in the darkened clouds. ”Thank you for inviting me.”
”No need to thank me. You”re a lovely companion. I understand why Jude”s always at your house these days.”
”Jude”s always great company. You and Mr. Beauregard are always welcome to come over for dinner.”
”Oh, we couldn”t impose. Jude is selfish of his time with you. I don”t blame him. His dad and I were the same way when we first started dating.” Miriam waved her off, but the nonchalance didn”t stop the warm rush across her cheeks and neck like wildfire. Oh?
”Jude and selfish are never two words I expected to hear in the same sentence.” Giselle coughed lightly, almost tripping over herself to catch up with Miriam, who strode toward the sidewalk in her sleek heels.
Miriam slowed down enough for Giselle to catch up while Giselle”s legs croaked out. Miriam laughed, but she wasn”t laughing at Giselle, nor was the laugh malicious. Her hand grasped her chest while she looped her other arm around Giselle”s shoulders.
She smiled, eyes sparkling knowingly. ”Jude is a giver, but he acts selfishly about two things: his secrets. . . and you.”
Giselle”s mouth flapped open, but she forced it shut by biting down hard on her lower lip. The knowing gleam in Miriam”s eyes promised such troubling curiosity, and her mind threatened to wander with the blinders on.
In her chest, the faint flickering of warmth spun in aimless circles until the sensation buzzed against the edge of her body. She felt like a live wire, jolting with each second passing between her and an answer. But Miriam”s stride toward Boutique Block discarded all of Giselle”s questions.
Since birth, Giselle had visited Boutique Block twice and never by herself. With the high-income clientele in the area, the boutique shops catered exclusively to the locals or wealthy visitors. All the shops displayed their wares in tall glass windows and underneath the sickly yellow glow of sleek modern lamps. No matter the style, everything sat in the price range of ”don”t even think about it, girl.”
But she planned to window shop while accompanying Miriam, that”s all. A crisis of the wallet would be averted with self-restraint, well-practiced over the years.
Miriam rounded the corner first, disappearing into the stretch of road with shops on either side. But when Giselle stepped behind her, her eyes landed on a leggy blonde with half a dozen bags draped over her arms. She knew her.
”Daisy? What are you doing here?” Giselle gasped, waving excitedly when Daisy”s face whipped around. She caught the flash of an earpiece hidden behind her hair from how fast she turned, but she glowed in recognition.
”Giselle! Hi!” Daisy strode forward with fierce yet graceful strides despite her boots” stilettos. She shifted the weight of her bags over to one arm and offered the other to Giselle.
Giselle scurried around Miriam and opened her arms wide, going in for a hug. Daisy”s arm matched hers and looped around her shoulders while Giselle leaned into her side, sharing a hug warmer than most of the ones Giselle had all year.
”I know I haven”t texted in a while, but I got sidetracked by the holiday rush at work.”
”I get it, don”t worry. The holiday season at my work is extra busy with our stockholders preparing for the annual meeting while the rest set projects for after the new year. It”s busy everywhere.”
Giselle nodded, chewing hard on the inside of her cheek. Daisy mentioned her job before, but Giselle only remembered something about corporate. Honestly, Daisy gave off lawyer or executive vibes.
”Are you doing some late Christmas shopping too?” Giselle asked, releasing from the hug. Even after chatting about discount stores and the merits of a good deal, Daisy rocked an outfit costing almost triple Giselle”s annual salary.
”Technically, no. I have an appointment at Oceanview Spa in a bit, and my drive from the city took less time than anticipated. I decided to spend my time doing some retail therapy while I waited,” Daisy hummed. ”Besides, a sale is always a good thing whenever possible.”
Giselle glanced over her shoulder to Miriam, who stood off to the side for other pedestrians. She waved her over. ”Uh, this is my friend, Daisy. We met during brunch at the Ridge.”
”Nice to meet you, dear,” Miriam remarked, stretching her hand to Daisy.
Daisy grasped her hand. ”Thank you, ma”am. Giselle, is this your mom?”
”Huh?” Giselle coughed. ”Oh, no! Miriam is Jude”s mom. Jude”s my boyfriend.”
”Oh! Got it. Well, it”s lovely to meet you, Miriam.”
”Same here, Daisy. . . and don”t take this the wrong way, but you look terribly familiar. I swear I”ve seen your face before.”
”You probably have. I visit The Ridge on a semi-frequent basis for my job. I”m the VP of Project Development for the Hidden Oasis Hotel and Resort Group, which owns the Royal Ridge and other destinations. I attend all the corporate fundraisers and conduct plenty of my business at the Ridge for interested investors.”
Giselle”s brows quirked. Daisy sounded well-connected and ahead of the curve from her job title and the perks. Yet, the hunger in Daisy”s eyes—shining like flecks of gold among caramel-coated irises—burned like that of someone who clawed their way up the social ladder from nothing.
”A V-Suite executive? Consider me impressed, young lady. You don”t look a day over twenty!” Miriam gasped. Daisy”s mouth bent into a friendly smirk, flirting on the edge of a genuine smile.
”I”m twenty-four, ma”am. But hearing that I look younger than I am always boosts my ego,” Daisy laughed, head tossed back with the shake of sandy blonde locks. ”Anyway, I won”t keep you two from shopping any longer.”
”Wait, you don”t have to go. I was tagging along with Miriam on her shopping. Maybe you could join us?” Giselle spoke before Daisy could leave, casting a sidelong glance at Miriam. Luckily, she found an agreeable smile on Miriam.
”Giselle”s right. Besides, you clearly appreciate good fashion, and my close friend, Vivienne, invited me to her store, Beyond Bespoke,” Miriam cheerfully promised, rifling through her purse. The name Beyond Bespoke rang a faint bell in Giselle”s mind, but the knowing twinkle in Daisy”s eye prodded at her.
”Beyond Bespoke, huh? Count me in,” Daisy remarked and shuffled the order of her shopping bags in her arms.
Giselle beamed before she sandwiched herself in the middle of them. People parted out of their way when they approached, acknowledging them with nods, and Giselle had never felt so important. Two women of considerable status and wealth walked down the pavement, and their energy cloaked her in its imposing weight.
The three walked down the street and past the long lines outside the high-end stores, passing conversations between locals and visitors about the busyness of Boutique Block.
At the occasional ”hello” or greeting, Miriam would politely wave, yet the serene flatness of her face hardly changed. Giselle watched her closer, taking in the soft twitch of her mouth whenever the person she last spoke to vanished from view. Almost all the girls she knew from high school mastered the same look before age thirteen, capable of wielding a smile like a weapon and flipping the charm off as quickly as a light switch.
Girls from Del Mesa were a different breed underneath the tea-length sundresses and debutant smiles.
Giselle shook her head, thoughts receding when Beyond Bespoke entered her vision with its gold-plated sign above the door and the doors rimmed in bright blue accents, separate from an otherwise neutral color palette.
From behind the counter, an older woman with gray roots growing out of otherwise stark black hair and a robin”s egg blue peplum suit dress hustled toward the door. ”Miriam, it”s been ages!”
”Too long, Vivienne. Goodness, you”re still looking absolutely fabulous in the blue,” Miriam cooed, embracing Vivienne in a hug. The two exaggerated the mwahs of their air kisses. ”How”s Felix these days?”
”Can you believe it? He”s currently on an international project in Berlin for his company. They flew him out there and everything, so I haven”t stopped reminding him about my motherly wisdom steering him right into civil engineering.”
”That”s wonderful. Oh, and let me introduce you to my guests today. We have Giselle, my son”s girlfriend, and Daisy, her friend.”
”Jude”s girlfriend? Let me see her!” Vivienne fumbled and slid on her bifocals, gesturing toward Giselle and Daisy. Giselle coughed hard when Daisy”s hand pushed her forward.
Giselle stammered, ”Uh hello. I”m Giselle.”
”Oh goodness! Yes, you and Jude make sense!” Vivienne exclaimed, grabbing Giselle by the shoulders, and examining her with an unabashed once-over. ”I heard whispers about a pretty girl, but ”pretty” hardly does you justice.”
Much like the crackle of static, Giselle”s thoughts became a fervent wasteland where coherent thoughts went to die. She heard what Vivienne said and ended up with two main conclusions. People were talking about her and Jude. . . and she was more than pretty?
”Thank you. Uh, I”m honored to be in your boutique today.” Giselle fumbled through the words as if reading a script being revised in live time. However, Vivienne didn”t seem to mind.
She patted Giselle”s shoulder, and the contact echoed with the slap of skin to Giselle”s tiny wince. ”You and your friend help yourself to the racks. Miriam and I have some gossiping like old maids to do.”
Vivienne released Giselle and scurried over to Miriam, dragging her away toward the counter in rapid-fire conversation. Giselle blinked until Daisy materialized beside her and pressed a guiding hand into her shoulder blades.
”Come on. Let”s search the racks for overpriced clothes we probably won”t buy and let them gossip in peace.”
”Sounds good. Lead the way.”
”Don”t know where to begin, huh?”
”Not a single clue.”
Daisy chuckled and brought Giselle to a rack on the opposite side of the store, closest to the white, wooden, stall dressing rooms partitioned off by thick, robin”s egg blue curtains like Vivienne”s outfit. Blue must be her favorite color.
Giselle stood to Daisy”s left and mimicked her movements, sifting through the rainbow of cocktail dresses on the spinning rack. She started in the dark blues, rotating the rack clockwise. Blues blended into the first shades of purple, and the silhouettes ranged from sleek to poofy.
To her right, Daisy dove into the racks and pulled out some immediate winners, holding them up to her chest. More often than not, she”d turn to Giselle and raise her brow silently, posing a question.
In Giselle”s mind, Daisy had the looks to pull off a rumpled trash bag. She nodded to each one, but Daisy”s discerning eye returned each one after a moment.
Giselle had begun tuning out the rustle and metallic clicking of the rack, letting the brush of fabric against her hand lull her mind elsewhere. However, a phone ringing filled the otherwise silent Beyond Bespoke, snapping her out of it.
Beside her, Daisy reached for her purse among all the shopping bags and clicked her earpiece. ”Hello. . . Jensen, why are you calling me?”
She barely finished her greeting before annoyance took over, tone sharpened like a knife for the other side of the call. Jensen? Maybe an ex or someone she didn”t like?
Daisy paused, arms crossed, and she rolled her eyes twice while listening to Jensen”s reply. ”First of all, I”m not in the office because I have the day off. . . courtesy of the boss. Second, no, I”m not telling you where I am. Third, I don”t want to hear a word because you”re out to lunch with your dad, so save it.”
Giselle”s mouth curled inward as Daisy threw her hands up, downright murderous if her narrowed eyes were any indication. Whoever Jensen was, he better hope Daisy went easy on him.
”. . . I don”t care that you wanted the deal done today. Client interfacing is your job, and I won”t save your ass so you can save face. . . don”t you dare start with the ”Your Highness” right now, asshole.”
Daisy pinched her nose, sighing hard. She glanced at Giselle, and despite her ongoing phone call, she cocked her head. Her hand reached over and pulled back the rest of the dresses, revealing the dress by Giselle”s hand.
She silently mouthed something while pointing between the dress and Giselle. Giselle caught the essence of what she said, not asking for a repeat. Get the dress.
Her hand ran over the sage green fabric of the gown, styled with a square neckline, long sleeves, and a sheath silhouette into a knee-length skirt. Her fingers traced loops over the fabric, finding it soft to the touch and unrecognizable for the moment.
”This? Are you sure?”
”Yes, get it.”
”I might not be able to afford it,” Giselle remarked, and a scowl interrupted Daisy as she tried to reply.
Instead, she hissed, ”No, Jensen. I wasn”t talking to you. . . if I were at work right now, I”d break into your office and shred your college diploma into confetti for when I”m promoted.”
She stalked toward the door while barking into her earpiece at Jensen. . . who was likely a coworker. So, Giselle returned to the rack and slid the dress into her arms. Before she talked herself down, she dove into one of the open dressing rooms, yanking the curtain shut behind her.
She cradled the dress in her arms but set it aside as she reached for her coat. Worn, slender fingers tugged at the fabric on her body, and the weight on her lessened. Fabric sloughed off her frame and landed in a pile at her feet.
Giselle stepped to the side and slid into the dress. Sleek, soft fabric stretched over her bare skin, contouring her shape, and accentuating the subtle dip of her curves she never saw in her everyday clothes. The dress fit like a glove, molding around her body with the accuracy of a tailored garment.
Among her eyes and hair, the demure green flattered the rosiness of her skin from the colder weather. Giselle stood at a loss for words.
She leaned down, scavenging through the many pockets of her coat until her phone emerged from one. She pointed the camera to the mirror in the dressing room and snapped a few grainy shots of her in the dress.
Giselle shuffled through them all. The person in the photograph hardly felt like her; the girl from the photo glowed with sparkling eyes like she held a secret, and one leg propped to add a more defined shape to her hip in the dress. Tantalizing, she couldn”t take her eyes off the photo.
She hovered over the three buttons in the corner, stricken by a devious thought. Show Jude. Show him the dress. The little voice in her mind chanted, joined by a chorus from the feverish blush spreading across her cheeks.
Her thumb wobbled over the button, and, against her better judgment, she clicked down. She went through the motions until she reached his contact.
”Should I? I don”t want to bother him, but. . .” Giselle whispered. Her eyes, flitting back to the mirror, caught sight of her reflection. The dress rippled with her every movement, no matter how minute, clinging desperately to her.
So, she hit the send button on the photo with nothing to lose.
Silently, Giselle stared at the bar loading as the message was sent. With each increase, Giselle”s stomach grew heavy, like it filled with water bogging her down. Giselle almost flung her phone, afraid to wait for a response.
A rattling breath tore out of her chest, and Giselle leaned against the wall, head buried into her folded arms. What had she done?
If the universe was listening, it decided she had no time for a pity party when her phone buzzed. Nerves rocketed down her spine and exploded into a shower of sparks around her stomach.
Despite her unease, Giselle peeked at her phone and spotted Jude”s name on her screen. He responded, oh no. Oh god.
JUDE: Woah. Was this meant for me?
Giselle weighed her options. She could play it cool and say she meant to send the message to someone else or fess up and be honest.
She tested out a text in response, fingers shaking from either nerves or excitement.
GISELLE: It”s meant for you. Hope I didn”t bother you.
Giselle bit her lip and refrained from rushing to the keyboard to spam an incoherent string of messages, likely to end in an apology and self-deprecating joke. She encountered enough traps like these while dating James.
JUDE: I wouldn”t consider it bothering me to send me such cute pictures of you. If you”re interested in my opinion, you should get the dress.
GISELLE: Oh? I should?
JUDE: Absolutely.
GISELLE: How come?
She paused, seeing three dots appear at the bottom corner of the screen and pulse with Jude”s incoming reply. Her breath stalled, and Giselle, no matter how hard she coaxed herself to stay calm, couldn”t focus on anything but those pesky three dots.
Until his reply came through.
JUDE: As your fake boyfriend, it”s my responsibility to tell you when you look good. . . and you look fucking ravishing. Just saying.
Giselle”s jaw dropped, reading the message five times before the words sank in. The warm buzz of Jude”s compliments swarmed her head louder than bees in her springtime garden.
He thought she looked ravishing. . . good enough to ravish?
The heat returned to her face. Suddenly woozy, Giselle stumbled into a reply that might disappoint.
GISELLE: You make excellent points. Unfortunately, the dress might be out of my price range.
JUDE: How much?
GISELLE: $225.99.
JUDE: I”m buying it for you. Don”t even worry about the price.
The wooziness intensified, and Giselle stumbled backward, landing on the soft cushion of the ottoman shoved into the corner. He didn”t hesitate; the message came mere seconds after hers.
GISELLE: No! I can”t ask you to do that.
JUDE: Giselle, we’re getting it.
GISELLE: Jude. Please.
JUDE: If you don”t let me buy you that dress today, I will drive to the shop and buy it myself. That dress is joining your closet.
GISELLE: . . . okay. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Beauregard.
JUDE: I”m persuasive. You”re beautiful. It”s the natural order of things.
Giselle stared at the last message, still beet red. She heard ”ravishing” echoing in her head, spoken in Jude”s husky voice, and glanced toward her reflection.
Her phone chimed with a notification from her mobile wallet, depositing more than agreed. Jude attached a note, which Giselle heard his voice again, telling her to ”treat yourself to some shoes too ;).”
Giselle sighed loudly, but a rumple in the curtain startled her onto her feet. ”Hello?”
”Giselle, is that you?” Miriam asked.
”Yes! It”s me. I found a dress to try on.”
”Oh, may I see it?”
”Sure.” Giselle brushed off her skirt and pulled open the curtain, face to face with Miriam. She hoped the redness simmered down, but Miriam”s gasp and cooing stoked the embarrassed heat.
”Oh, Giselle! You look radiant! You should buy this dress immediately. . . and I know Jude won”t be able to think about anything but you when he sees it,” Miriam declared, and the quiet but expectant hope in her eyes defeated the last of Giselle”s resolve to resist.
Miriam had no clue how right she was.