Chapter 11 - The House (2/2)
Madam Estrella looks at her as though a ċȯċkroach has slipped out of her mouth. ”No, my dahling! From the looks of you, you don't strike me as a woman who knows what she's doing! Let me make the fashion decisions here.”
Madam Estrella leads her by the arm. They pass by a few ladies who look like they're going to the same haute couture ball. Claire's eyes almost pop out with everything she's seeing. It feels so heady, this place. The scent of everything, how the light touches the corners, the fabric of the dresses, how rich they feel in her clammy hands. What is she doing in a place like this?
In a corner, Lopez stands patiently, his eyes fixed on the vanishing point in front of him, but she knows Lopez is fully aware of even the smallest thing that is happening in the store.
Madam Estrella disappears into a side room. It takes her maybe 10 minutes before she reappears, a number of dresses in both her arms, her face shining with excitement.
”Now, try these on,” she mutters, her mouth so close to Claire's ear. ”Let's see if he doesn't fall head over heels over you when she sees you tonight.”
Who's he? Claire is momentarily confused. She's not dressing up for a date. This is all work, and she's just the reluctant personal ȧssistant dragged from her bed to attend to some shady thing her boss has set for her.
Inside the fitting room, three serious, unsmiling girls deftly run their hands on her. She's aghast when they ask her to take her clothes off. ”What, here?” One girl nods her head solemnly. Claire looks around. These people are serious. Dead serious. Are they going to harvest my organs? Reluctantly, Claire removes articles of clothing one by one. When she's down to her undėrwėȧr, one of the girls starts working. They put one dress on her so carefully, as though the dress is made of gossamer silk. When they're done, they rolled a life-size mirror in front of her. For a split second, she didn't recognize the woman in the reflection. Oh my God!
”You're gorgeous, dahling!” Madam Estrella gushes. ”You are absolutely fantastic! You look like a different person!”
Claire is speechless, staring at her reflection, her heart pounding in her ċhėst. She's beautiful, she already knew that, but before this moment, this magical moment, she never knew what a bombshell she actually is. A true femme fatale. Claire Monteverde. Look at that. All her curves so subtly accentuated. The curve of her neck, her beautiful, flawless arms, the way she stands on those Balenciaga pumps. Where have you been all my life, woman?
When she walks out of the fitting room, even Lopez's face lights up upon seeing her. ”Oh, my God! Err, I mean, you look lovely, Madam Claire.”
”Thank you,” Claire manages to say. ”So where do we go next?”
”To the Palace,” Lopez says, and quite uncharacteristically, follows it with, ”And we have to be there before all those bitches chew his head off.”