Chapter 11 - The House (1/2)
”Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to sally forth and conquer and totally, totally slay.”
Lopez the butler didn't actually say it, but Claire imagines him to have, like what they do in 'Mission Impossible' movies. Lopez's demeanor is ultra-serious, as though they're going to perform heart surgery.
On the other hand, the chauffeur doesn't say a thing. If anything, he's efficient almost to a fault. He always looks ahead, taking really good care of every turn in the road. Sometimes, Claire catches him glancing on the rearview mirror.
”We're making a stop at a house to prepare you.”
”House? Whose house?”
”Balenciaga,” Lopez says, as the car stops in front of a luxury fashion shop on the city's high street.
Claire gingerly steps out of the Bentley, gawking at the gilded, glittery store in front of her. ”Balenciaga lives here? But this is a store. Is he crazy, too?”
If Lopez were amused, you won't know it; he always maintains that deadpan expression, as though he's so utterly beyond the follies of this world and of individuals. ”Balenciaga is a house of fashion, Miss Monteverde. Master Gabriel says to dress you up a highly important social function.”
Fear clutches Claire's throat. Highly important social function? A million questions instantly run through her head, foremost of which is: what is she gonna do at a highly important social function? She's not socialite material, for pete's sakes! She didn't even know what to do at a beer-drenched college party, what more at a high-society dressy party? What is Gabriel Tan thinking?
”This way, Madam,” Lopez says, ushering her into the store. They are greeted by an overly enthusiastic matron with a heavy European accent. ”You must be Claire,” she greets, giving her a highly fashionable air kiss. ”Ohhh, denim on denim. Horrendous!” The matron grins. ”But not completely hopeless. Maybe let's put some dead animal on you. Or maybe lace. Leather and lace, the whole thing.”
Claire looks at Lopez the butler, who clears his throat. ”You already know the purpose of this visit, Madam Estrella. If possible, may we stop beating around the bush and choose the best outfit for tonight's event.”
Madam Estrella makes a show of how Lopez has offended her. ”My, oh my! Always straight as a darned arrow, Lopez the Butler! Not even a second to waste!” Then to Claire. ”I admit, Claire, that you really need some work. But give me an hour and I promise you, you will look so damn fab!”
An hour, Claire thinks. Why an hour? How does choosing what to wear take so long? ”Can I choose what to wear, Madam?”