Page 32 of Delivered in White

My blood boils. I clench my fists, wishing my punches would do something to the brick shithouse standing in front of me. “What part of ‘no’don’t you understand? Out of the question. Want me to say it in Italian?Assolutamente no.Did that get past the wax in your ears?”

“This is how you stay safe, Capri. Get your teenage tantrums out now, so we can move on.”

I must look like a boiling teapot at this point. Steam shoots out of my ears,I swear. Who the hell does he think he is?

Okay, think, Capri.

“Just leave me here, in this fortress,” I suggest.

“Then I won’t have an eye on you. Remember, your father goespopif I’m not living out my days happily married… if someone gets to you.”

“Stanzo wouldn’t.” I frown.

“You really want to test that theory?” His cold eyes look almost completely grey in this light. They make me cower and think the worst.

“Okay, make me a cashier or something. Bartender.Whatever.”

“Strippers come and go all the time. The other roles have staples for almost five years now.Thisis the only course. Either that, or escort.”

My hands clap over my mouth in horror. Manipulative prick. He’s trying to make stripper look like thegoodchoice here.

“I’ve already thought it all out. There’s no other way I can reduce suspicion amongst my crew. I hang with strippers almost exclusively. That’s it, Capri. Time to move to the acceptance stage.Hah.”

I gasp again. A pun? “You think you’re freakin’ funny? Ugh. I want to punch you in the throat and watch you squirm.”

He bark laughs at that. “Two days, and you’re already fantasizing about hurting people.” He shoves the outfit into my grasp. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. You can pick your name too. If it’s decent, I’ll let you keep it.”

I’m left flabbergasted.

“Oh, and another thing. Once we make it to Star Dust, you call meDaddy.”

My mouth hangs open. I’ve never wanted to hit somebody so hard in my life. Disgustingpigof a man. What the fucking shit am I doing here?

He walks into one of his many offices and shuts the door. I imagine him on the phone with his friends, laughing about how he has to babysit a woman whose dad got caught up with the wrong crowd. Well, he wouldn’t say that because it would blow our cover, but the sentiment is there.

Every time I glance at the skimpy dress, I want to cry. Lace ties, see-through spots on the abdomen section. A strap that’s almost as thin as a thong.Hot pink?

I shake my head and drop onto the couch. It still smells like him. But that comfort he gave me taking watch at night faded with…this.

Daddy?Yuck.

Hours go by. I’ve been through every scenario in my head. Yes, including the one that ends with me on stage beside another half-naked woman sliding down a pole. Sure, I’ve danced at clubs before, been grinded on, but putting on a show for people? Pleading for money with my breasts?

This is the third time tears well up in sixty minutes. The only way out is if I beg him to keep me locked up in a basement or something. At least then I could keep my dignity, right?

For some reason I justknowI’m not going to fit in when I get there. I imagine catty dancers flipping their hair and turning their backs on new meat – especially at meat that doesn’t belong.Shit. And here I was, priding myself that I could get along with everybody just a few days ago.

But wouldn’t it be a good smack in the face to Trino if I actually pulled it off? Hewantsme uncomfortable, the prick.

No, Capri. He’s just trying to keep you alive.

Maybe it’s a bit of both and a lot of neither. The sun is starting to go down, though, and it’s dragging a pit into my belly along with it. Clock’s ticking.

I hold up the outfit for the umpteenth time, still terrified to take it out of its wrap. Once I do, that means I concede, and I’m no longer a lawyer, just a tiny dancer, right, Elton? Well, I wouldn’t be that tiny. My dad used to say I’m model height.

I smile sadly at the outfit.

What would he say if he saw me in this?

---