Page 30 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
“I don’t like this dress, it’s too short,” I said.
“Yes, it is.”
He was looking at my legs. The dress had risen to my upper thighs. I tugged at it, hoping to cover a little more skin.
“I don’t like those boots, they’re too manly,” he said.
“Yes, they are,” I replied, smiling sweetly.
We soon pulled into the underground car park of my worst nightmare, a shopping centre. The driver stopped by the doors and Sebastian climbed out. I sat and sulked. He opened the door and held out his hand. I slowly took it and was yanked from my seat.
“Do you have to pull me around?” I asked.
“Only when you don’t respond quick enough.”
“Jesus, anyone would think you’re my dad,” I said, smirking at him.
He led the way, still holding my hand. He did that a lot, held my hand. There were times when I thought it might mean something, and others, like then, when he just held it so I didn’t lag behind.
“Slow down, will you?” I asked.
“Sorry, I hate shopping.”
“So do I. So why are we?” I asked.
“Because. Now get your arse in there.” We had stopped outside a department store.
“You actually trust me to pick out some clothes? And how do you think I’m going to pay for them?” I was back to having my hands on hips to show how serious I was.
“No,” he said, laughing. “And I am. Now get in. There’s a private shopper waiting for us.”
He pushed me forwards, and we walked towards the women’s clothes section. We stood for a minute, neither of us sure where to go.
“Ah, Mr. Wolfe?” We heard. I turned first to see an older lady jogging over. “Is this your daughter, Ruby?” she asked.
I had to bite down hard on my lower lip to stop from laughing. He looked like thunder had struck. His glare had her shrivel.
“No, she is not my daughter,” he said, his voice low and stern.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. Erm...”
“She needs work clothes, a casually dressed office environment. She also needs some evening wear and smart restaurant clothes. And shoes, please don’t forget the shoes.”
“I can pick—” I started. He glared at me, clearly pissed, and I shut up. I couldn’t, however, stop my shoulders from shaking.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, let it out, Ruby,” he said, sighing.
I laughed. I laughed so hard tears rolled down my cheeks. The shopper stood totally bemused.
“Better?” he asked when I used a tissue he held out to wipe my eyes.
“Yes, Dad, thanks.” I was off again.
He shook his head. “Where do I wait?” he asked, brusquely.
“Follow me,” the shopper said. She was obviously confused.
We walked through a door and into a seating area. Champagne was on ice, and beside it was soft drinks. He was invited to sit; I was invited to follow her into a cubical. I was asked to remove the dress and then she measured me. I guessed that was the reason for the decent underwear. She asked me what my favourite styles and colours were. All I could do was shrug my shoulders. I didn’t have any, I’d told her. She gave me a robe to put on and told me she’d be about a half hour.
