Page 17 of Come Out & Prey

My daughter is going to bend her knee, or the consequences will be dire.

That, I can guarantee.

Little Black Dress

“Mattie!Bruiser brought the car around. Come on!”

I tap my foot anxiously, knowing that Lucille is probably purposely holding Matilda up to spite me. My mother has no interest in going dress shopping—she simply wants to make certain I don’t acquire something befitting our ‘standing’ so she can say that I’ve disappointed the family again. Neither of my parents talk about their childhoods, but I can only imagine the type of family atmosphere that produced the parents who had so little interest in raising me.

The small, thin hawk shifter hurries out of the house, her large bag clutched to her side as she follows me toward the enormous Hummer. She waits for me to get in the back before sliding in next to me and shutting the door. I can feel the nervous energy radiating off of her as she watches the glaring Komodo in the front seat. Her fingers reach up to adjust her glasses and she clears her throat.

“Madame Lucille instructed me to have you visit Dingo & Anaconda first. She would like St. Leopard to be second, andPreyda after that.” Bruiser grunts and starts the car, and my ex-nanny turns to me. “She also added that if we do not find attire at those, we may visit Growlvinchy. All stores will have a dedicated attendant for us and shoe concierges. They will provide any other necessities the day of—I assume your father will open the vault to bring the needed jewels home.”

Bringing my hands to my face, I hold back a scream. Now I know why he’s been scarce. Bruno is running around gathering the ingredients for a press gaggle to be present at the prom on Friday. He’ll force me to wear the family jewels for all to see, and that will cement me as the ‘heir apparent all grown up’ in the press.

I guess he got the idea of running around being a gross old man at the casinos with Pink’s disgusting dad. The Barrington shark is a slimy, shifty eyed asshole, which is why I’ve never once agreed to spend the night at her house. Her ‘Daddy’ shit creeps me out.

“Mattie,” I say, choosing my words carefully with Bruno’s lackey in the driver’s seat. “I’m very grateful that Lucille arranged all of this for me. Please let her know her personal attention was invaluable.”

A tiny smile quirks at the corners of her mouth. Matilda has had years to interpret my appreciation forherefforts from compliments aimed at my mother. No one can ever outshine Lucille, and despite her complete lack of interest in anything but berating me, she cannot bear for me to treat Mattie kindly. I don’t know if it’s pride or some small part of her that recognizes what a pitiful excuse for a parent she is. Either way, I’ve always made sure that Mattie gets the thanks she richly deserves.

The car falls silent for the duration of the trip into the city, and the time passes quickly. I text the Heathers to let them know what our game plan is, and of course, they all have their own suggestions for what area of the stores I should start with. I’m not as familiar with the designers as they are—I order my clothes online, and I don’t favor high-end fashion houses. I’d much rather wear clothes that are comfortable than things that feel like a costume.

The car stops abruptly in front of a store and Bruiser turns around. “We’re here. Get your things. I won’t wait.”

Matilda blinks behind her thick round frames, and I give her a reassuring pat on her hand. Bruiser will not throw us out the door and take off, but he won’t waste time, either. She doesn’t know how he behaves without my parents around, so I know it must be making her nervous. “Thank you, Bruiser. We will have the final store contact you when we are ready to be picked up.”

His rough grunt is the only response and Matilda looks at me with wide eyes. I smile again, waiting for the car to slow to stop in front of the house of Dingo & Anaconda. Generations ago, this unlikely pairing of preds created a design alliance, and their collections have been coveted by the rich and famous.

I’m uncertain they will have anything I would be caught dead wearing, but Lucille insisted. Last spring, they featured a bunch of weird mismatched, patchwork designs that looked like Frankenclothes. Lucille bought several pieces with bold black and white checkerboard patterns that made her look like she was trying to relive the 70s, and I couldn’t even look at her without having to smother a giggle.

As we enter the boutique, I feel the change in the air. I wouldn’t put it past the high-end fashion houses to pump in pred-stasythrough the filtration system to encourage large purchases. Although it’s shady, the drug is as legal as caffeine, and you’d have to prove they dosed their customers.

Good luck with that... most shoppers are already drunk or on some form of upper when they arrive, anyway. None of my friends' parents would submit to a drug test voluntarily, and mine would probably eat the unfortunate soul who had to ask.

“It’s very…” Matilda whispers.

I sigh and nod my head, appreciating that she already knows nothing here is my style. “It is. But we’ll start here and work our way through Lucille’s suggestions. Maybe I’ll find something not awful in one of them. It is pretty close to the wire, though, and most of the designers have probably signed exclusivity contracts with the elite families.”

“Welcome to Dingo & Anaconda,” the smarmy looking concierge gushes. “Your mother has called ahead to have us put aside a selection of gowns in your size. Follow me to the dressing lounge. Would you like champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

Giving him a wide berth, I shake my head. Mattie looks like she could use a scotch, but I will not get either of us busted for imbibing by accepting anything this creep offers. “No, thank you. May I ask what size Luc—my mother told you? I want to make sure we have it correct to reduce the amount of oils from hands on your lovely designs.”

“But of course! Your mother asked us to pull dresses in a size four and six.”

“Delores will need you to re-stock those and find the same designs in a size twelve. I'm afraid mothers never want theirdaughters to grow up,” Mattie interjects before I lose my temper in front of the slimy little toad.

I should have known.

Lucille purposefully told the designers I am several sizes smaller than I am to humiliate me. I’m going to have this conversation at every store we visit today if I don’t find a dress that suits me here. Her cruelty knows no bounds—truly. She’s determined to make me feel like shit. I can only assume this is her revenge for asking if Matilda could take me.

I enter the dressing room and wait for Mr. Creepy Weasel to bring the pre-approved dresses back in the right size. When he knocks on the door, I open it and my chest caves. They are all big, fluffy princess gowns... I’d be right at home in Disney World with all the cartoon characters roaming around. I don’t want to dress like I’m going to ride in a pumpkin carriage.

Damn Lucille. She’d never wear something this ridiculous, and she knows I wouldn’t want to, either. That leopard thinks of everything and I’m going to have to work hard to escape her clutches some day.

With a heavy sigh of frustration, I try on the marshmallow gowns, snapping pics for the Heathers as I go. At least I’ll have evidence that I gave Lucille’s suggestions a fair try.

“Delores,if you don’t find a dress at Growlvinchy, your mother will be furious!” Matilda frets, looking around us as we walk down the ritzy boulevard. “She insisted we choose a piece from the designers she is currently pleased with.”

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