Page 43 of Rake

“Just take care of yourself, honey,” she says. “Finn is slick. He’s smarter and better than his daddy, but that doesn’t make him nearly good enough for you, or even someone you should trust.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Still, I want to make him regret his bad decisions when he sees me. Do you think you could help me with that?”

“Can I?” She shakes her head at me. “I wish you’d let me do this a long time ago.”

We head to the downtown area. Mattapan has a bad reputation as a high crime area and earned the nickname “Murderpan” for a reason. But like many places, it’s more about knowing where you’re going, respecting the rules of the neighborhood, and not sticking your nose in the wrong people’s business than anything else. If you follow those general rules, no one is going to bother you.

I’m fast on these crutches, and can keep up with Jamilah pretty easily as we walk over to the store she told me about. It’s a cute little boutique that sells secondhand clothes.

“The clothes here are a bit pricier than your typical stuff at Savers, but it’s nicer and still affordable,” she says, opening the door for me. “We’ll find something here that’ll knock them out.”

She waves to the woman behind the counter, and we start going through the racks. She pulls out a few things, holds them up to me, and shakes her head.

“Petite, busty girls are hard to dress,” Jamilah says, putting yet another dress back. “And I know your Momma didn’t have a lot of time to help you with all this.”

I glance at my clothes. I’ve never been able to spend much time or money on myself. I’d also always been embarrassed about my body: I’d gotten breasts sooner than the other girls, and the comments from the boys made me uncomfortable. My mother warned me not to get in trouble like she did, and I tried to make myself as invisible as possible. I loved my mother, but I didn’t want her life.

But I ended up with it anyway.

So maybe it’s time for a change. I can fight for myself in ways other than being invisible. I’m going to be very visible at the gala.

“Oh, this could be it!” She pulls a black dress off the rack. “V-neck is excellent for busty women and look.” She points to a black ribbon that winds around the waist. “Cinches in at the natural waist, and an A-line skirt to balance things out.” She holds it up to me. “Try it on.”

I slip into the dressing room. Getting into the dress with my injured ankle is awkward, but not too bad. I leave the scarf on and come out to show Jamilah.

She claps her hands together, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.

“Hot damn, you look amazing! Why have you been hiding in all those shapeless clothes?” She points at Finn’s scarf. “Can I see the neckline without the scarf?”

“You’re going to get upset.”

“Sasha...” Her eyes widen in concern.

Sighing, I unwind the scarf and show her the bruises.

She’s quiet for a minute, her eyes blazing. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. We’ll get you some makeup next.” She looks me over and takes a deep breath before smiling cheekily. “And a better bra.”

I feel a little naked in the V-neck. It shows off cleavage I’m used to covering up, but I have to admit, I look slimmer than I normally do.

“See?” she says, patting my waist. “You’re a small girl, but when you wear those potato sacks it hides your incredible shape.” She plucks at the hemline of the skirt. “Hmm. Can you sew? This should come up another two inches so it’s just over your knee.”

I’m not a super talented seamstress, but I can do simple repairs and hems on my grandmother’s old sewing machine. The skirt flares out, but it’s a nice, thick cotton. Should be easy enough.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “It doesn’t look trashy?” My mother’s voice echoes in my ears. She just wanted to keep me safe, I know, but she didn’t always comment on my body in the kindest way.

“You’re a young woman, Sasha. A fit, beautiful young woman who deserves to show off what she’s working with. You are absolutely right that you don’t need Finn’s money to look good. Trust me, you look stunning, and your curves are nothing to be ashamed of. A million girls would kill for a body like yours.”

I touch the straps on the dress. They’re only about an inch wide. Jamilah senses my discomfort and laughs.

“This is where the bra comes in. We should get you a few more things while we’re here, and then I know a place.”

I end up spending only fifty dollars for a bag full of clothes, including some jewelry and a pair of nice metallic flats to wear with my dress. “Normally heels with this,” Jamilah had told me. “But not with that ankle.” It’s more than I normally spend, but still a hell of a lot less than whatever Finn would’ve insisted I spend for one dress.

We head to another store for underwear. I should be embarrassed, but I’m thrilled to have help from someone who knows what they’re doing. My grandma Goldie wore the same bra for as long as she lived with us and duct taped the underwire back in when it shot out of the side.

An energetic older woman measures me, getting up in my business in a way that leaves me red-faced.

“It’ll be worth it,” Jamilah says.

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