Page 94 of Maximum Dare
“She was dressed like a clown! At the Waldorf!”
“She’s a member of a Dare Club. They help people find courage to stretch out of their comfort zone.”
“Coming here was a dare?”
“No, Mum,” I snapped. “She modeled that dress in a fashion show for a children’s charity. They made her up like that, obviously.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “She was your someone special who you invited tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Daisy and I have been dating. I really like her.”
“That strange little girl?”
“She’s a beautiful woman. And your youngest son was an idiot for letting her go.”
“You haven’t stopped to ask yourself why he left her.”
“Yes, Mum, and the conclusion is that my brother is an ass who became besotted with another woman who has no soul. He deserves someone a lot better. In fact, I suggest you introduce him to Cresilla and her Carrot Tops.”
“Turnip Toffs. I went to all this trouble for you, Max.”
“I didn’t ask you to. And you know what? Those Turnip Toffs can fuck right off.” It felt good to say it.
She gasped. “We’re talking royal connections.”
“Listen to me, Mum…when I marry it will be for love.” I raised my hands in the air to make my point. “For love!”
My heart was breaking for the one I’d lost too soon.
“Where are you going?” she asked, as I stormed off towards Drury Lane.
“To take a walk and get some fresh air.”
I needed to think…needed to decide if Daisy would be better off without any of us in her life. She deserved better.
A woman like Daisy deserved the goddamned world.
After last night, creepy clowns were going to be a trigger for me forever. Every time I thought about turning up at the Waldorf Hotel in clown makeup, only to be confronted by Max and his dinner guests, hives appeared on my neck.
Max’s mum was probably permanently scandalized.
I was actually happy to be back at work, here amongst the zoned-out shoppers and my moody co-workers. One person who never changed her attitude was my friend and colleague Amber. She worked in the same department, and if anyone could shake me out of this post-traumatic nightmare, it was her.
I’d spent the last hour moving items from one end of the gown department to the other—mainly because shoppers had this annoying habit of picking a dress off a hanger and, half-way to the changing room, deciding they didn’t want the dress after all. Thankfully, most of the customers had thinned out since we were closing soon.
My feet were sore from walking around the vast showroom for eight hours straight. I was glad we only had fifteen minutes to go before I could go home and watch some mindless TV.
But sometimes, working at a major retail store could be kind of fun…when my heart wasn’t breaking—mainly because I got to hang out with Amber.
I found her in one of the back rooms, looking miserable as hell, sorting through returns—a job we hated, therefore, we took turns doing the dark deed. Basically, the only way you could tell if an item could go back on sale after a buyer had returned it was to sniff the damn thing—no kidding.
I watched as Amber sniffed the armpits of a Victoria Beckham gown. It would of course be dry-cleaned to remove the lipstick stain on the collar, but if it was worn it couldn’t be sold as new.
“Want some help?” I asked, with a please-don’t-say-yes expression on my face.
