Page 72 of The Kiss Of Death
I perched on the velvet sofa, trying to erase that silly dress from my mind. Our shopping spree in the heart of the almost dead island’s town center had been exhaustive since Yasmine insisted on going early to ensure we had a myriad of options.
“Show me!” I called back to her.
I rose from that sofa and revisited the dress for the umpteenth time. The fabric felt like dark swan’s feathers from the tulle skirt, while the back structure resembles the spine’s skeletal bones in dark leather, with long ribbons for fastening the corset. Yas flung the heavy fitting room curtain open, and I jumped away from the rack like nothing happened.
I took sight of her in a stunning, fiery satin dress with a gold sequin neckline, and I gasped. “You look like a princess! I have a ribbon the same color; it’d be so beautiful for your hair.”
She held her hand over her heart. “You’d let me borrow one of your ribbons?”
“Of course,” I beamed.
“I’m touched.” She twirled around amid the faded floral patterns of the peeling boutique wallpapers. “Now, are you going to try that dress you’ve been eye-fucking since we arrived here?”
My pulse quickened. “What?” I faked a laugh. “I did not—”
She went through the rack and picked the dress herself. “You’ve hated every dress except this one. I’ll never go shopping with you ever again—you’re too picky.”
“How did you know?” I reluctantly groped the heavy dress. “I already have one. I don’t need a new one or—”
“It’s a ball, Dalia.” Yas crossed her arms over her chest. “A ball. Not a funeral.”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try it.” I smiled.
We returned to the fitting room decorated with porcelain plates on the walls and old theater posters of black cats and the cliff on the island. I slipped into the dress. It hugged my waist snugly, enhancing my modest curves with its corset-style bodice with black lace. It was far more feminine than anything I’d ever worn; I wore skirts and dresses, but they were childish. This one felt powerful and bold with the lookalike bones of a spine on the back. Womanly. Daring.Dark.
I stepped out of the fitting room and twirled in front of Yasmine, stirring up dust particles from the floor.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, this dress makes you look like a rich heiress—the black sheep of a family whom the villain has set his sights on as she dances with his archnemesis.”
“Imagine it with two silver ribbons and—” My phone chose that moment to ring. “Hold on, it’s my grandmother. I need to show her.” I answered the FaceTime call. “Hey, Grandma! Look at this dress!”
“You look like an apocalyptic landscape, a disaster. I love it!” She frowned at the camera. “And who’s this beautiful creature behind you?”
“That’s Yasmine, my roommate and best friend here.”
Yasmine waved at Grandma, who waved back.
“I did my first time with your grandfather at a ball. He had invited me to dance and picked me up with his motorbike when—”
“Is that Dalia?” My father’s voice interjected from behind as he entered the room.
My grandmother tried to resume her tale. “Yes, darling, but we’re in the middle of—”
Dad swiftly snatched the phone from Grandma’s grasp.
“Hi, Dad, how are—”
“Is this what you’re wearing to the ball?” he said, his tone dripping with disapproval. “Don’t you think you’re showing too much skin? It’s not proper.”
I offered a feeble defense. “Don’t you think I look beautiful in this?”
Dad had a radar, a strange sixth sense. Each time we called, it was at the wrong possible timing for me: after a party, or here, dress shopping. With every rule I was slightly bending, I was getting caught immediately.Story of my life.
“You’re always beautiful, my angel, but you can’t wear that. It’s… it’s not you. You’re only a substitute in the quartet, and even if you were brought in to play, it’s not…classy. No respectable musician would wear that,” he stated firmly, causing Yasmine to grimace, Grandma to roll her eyes, and me to feel a knot in my heart.
“But Dad…” My voice broke down as I tried to stand my ground. “I’m not a little girl anymore, and this isme.”
“Your mother was the most elegant woman I knew. She’d have never dressed—”
