Page 40 of Enigma: The Final Chapter
“Tell me about it. I swear the only two words he knows is ‘Ms. Brahn.’”
My impersonation of Roger makes Hugo laugh so loud, his heart monitor sounds an alarm. There's nothing more sobering than remembering he's injured and lying in a bed because of me and my stupidity. Any warm fuzziness I was feeling from the alcohol simmers to a dull buzz.
Once Hugo assures Raquel he's fine and not dying, his attention reverts back to the cell phone. “You better tell me what favor you need before Raquel confiscates my phone.”
“I need yourstellarfashion advice.”
His vibrating growl rumbles through the phone. “Just in case you failed to get the memo, I got shot in the shoulder, Izzy, not in my cock.”
I giggle rowdily. “Please,” I shamelessly beg. “You made such a good choice last time. It’ll only take five minutes of your time.”
Hugo rolls his eyes as his jaw muscle tenses.
“Harlow and Peta have their selections down to two dresses, but they can’t pick which one they like the most.”
His eyes widen. “Peta is there with you?”
Smiling, I nod.
His pupils dilate. “I think I should come down there and give my opinion in person. I can’t make an informed decision by looking at distorted images on a phone screen. I have to see the dresses up close andpersonal.”
Any reply I’m planning to give is halted when a box of tissues collides with Hugo’s chest.
“What?” He peers at someone past his phone, his face altering from playful to looking like a child being reprimanded for misbehaving. He mouths a silent apology before his eyes return to the screen. “Tell them to pick the dress that shows the most leg. Guys love legs. The shorter the skirt, the better.”
“Thank you,” I reply, my voice sugary sweet.
He grins. “You’re welcome. Now return the favor. Send me some pictures—”
Before his request can escape his lips, his phone is snatched out of his hand, and his deep, vivacious chuckle is the last thing I hear before our call is disconnected.
Harlow and Peta adhere to Hugo’s advice and pick the dresses that show the most leg. Peta’s dress is a gorgeous one-shoulder silk, candy apple red dress with a slit that goes high on the thigh, and the back drapes dangerously low. Harlow’s dress is emerald green and is a fitted wrap design. When she put on her stiletto heels, her legs went for miles and miles.
I gather our bags from the lingerie store and my Burberry trench coat from the dressing room before joining Harlow and Peta at the cashier’s desk to finalize our purchases. The air in my lungs is evicted when my eyes lock in on the person entering the boutique through the locked front doors.
Clara is wearing a cream sheath dress with a black wool coat and cropped boots. Her shiny hair is loose and cascading down her back like a satin waterfall, and her make up is perfectly in place. When she notices me standing at the side, gawking at her, her mouth curls into a bitchy snarl.
Since I’ve been living in an Isaac buzz cloud the past five days, any thoughts on the ‘Clara incident’ have been in the background of my mind. But seeing her standing in front of me, smiling like the vicious cow she is, makes all that hurt come streaming back in.
“I have to go,” I tell Harlow, my tone weak as the feeling of deceit places a stranglehold on my heart.
Harlow nods before grabbing the bags off the glass countertop to follow me out. When I spin to walk toward the door, I nearly crash into Clara, who’s now standing beside me. “Isabelle, what a pleasure to see you again.” Her tone doesn’t attempt to hide the snarl on her over-glossed lips.
“Pity we can’t say the same about you.”
Clara’s narrowed eyes snap to Harlow. The angry scowl she’s wearing intensifies when her eyes lock in on the boutique bags in Harlow’s hands. “I see you're once again spending money you didn’t earn, draining my brother’s bank balance one slutty dress at a time.”
When Harlow steps up to Clara, I place my hand on Harlow’s forearm. “She isn’t worth it. Class and dignity aren’t things that can be purchased. They’re ingrained in you. So even someone with an impressive bank balance like Clara’s will become a bitter, lonely old lady. Because not even the most expensive dress and a perfectly made-up face can conceal ugly insides.”
A grin that beams of victory stretches across my face when Clara can’t form a comeback to my taunt.You can’t deny the truth.
I loop my arm around Harlow’s and amble toward the door with my head held high, my brisk pace only halting when Clara sneers, “Save your self-righteousness for someone who hasn’t slept with yourboyfriend.”
This time, it’s Harlow holding me back from Clara. After giving me her I’ve-got-your-back, Harlow saunters toward Clara. “Can I ask you something, Clara?” Her tone is void of her earlier bitterness.
Clara rolls her eyes before gesturing for Harlow to go ahead like a queen permitting the pauper to kiss her feet.
Harlow grins an evil smile, looks her straight in the eyes, then boldly questions, “Is Isaac circumcised?”
