Soul and Blade by Tara Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

childhood and I dislike it.”
    Melody gives me a sparkly-eyed smile. She doesn’t seem fazed by the comment.
    We don’t have a chance to correct ourselves, because a woman enters in a very intense dress for a Saturday afternoon—she’s too shiny, too polished, and too made up. Her forceful smile precedes her through the arched doorway into the main room.
    Still, even Angie has lipstick on and some blush and her unruly red hair is locked up tight in a beautiful bun.
    I look homeless compared with them all.
    “You must be the bride.” The intense lady strides toward Melody, arms outstretched. Melody smiles and lets the woman take her hands before she corrects her with a nod in my direction. “No. Jane is the lucky girl,” she says with a hint of bitterness.
    To quash my urge to flee, I conjure the look on Dash’s face when I forgot about the stupid dress altogether.
    The shop lady looks at me and musters as much courage as she can before coming over, her smile at half wattage. “How lovely.” She turns and points at the doorway she has just walked through and the hallway behind it. “We are ready for you now.”
    Where are we going? The room we are in is filled with beautiful dresses in glass cases. If this is simply the foyer, then it’s impressive.
    “Just follow me,” she says and turns, clicking with hip-swaying strides back down the long hallway.
    I swallow and Angie clears her throat as she takes my hand, squeezing.
    But as we turn the corner and clear the doorway to the right, the room before us explodes in lace, silk, and taffeta. Mannequin princesses extend as far as the eye can see in gowns of a thousand colors.
    “Now Lady Townshend has told me the theme is actually lavender and lace, which I feel is just divine for a proper English wedding.”
    I don’t know what “theme” means in this case, but I’m not completely clueless. “I am leaving all the details up to her. She’s just telling me what to wear and when to be there.” I laugh, alone.
    The shop lady looks affronted, but Lady Townshend steps forward with her best unintentional Julie Andrews impression. “We are very pleased with the dresses Georges has found for her.”
    The dress bitch with the obvious hate-on for me gives Lady Townshend a slight bow. “And he is over the moon about being the designer chosen for this. It will be the event of the season.”
    My stomach turns.
    “Quite.” Dash’s mom nods and turns, giving me a look that tells me throwing up on the Tiffany-blue rug would be a very poor choice.
    “Would the lady follow me, please? We will put you in with the dressers and start the show!” She nearly sings the last couple of words. Angie’s grip tightens as she subtly forces me forward.
    Three girls stand in a giant dressing room that’s the size of my first apartment. They are all brunette and all tall, slim, and pretty, but unlike the women I’m with or the shop owner, these girls look polite. Or at least they can fake it better.
    In my mind I am repeating the ways I could incapacitate all three of them as the doors close, the ways in which I am trained to escape a moment like this one. I could knock them all out, and everyone in that room, and be down the block before I even got winded.
    “I’m Jenny, this is Sasha, and that is Margolis,” the brightest of the three beauties offers.
    “Jane.” A whisper creeps up my skin, not liking that her name is Jenny. I don’t like that name anymore.
    “So lovely to meet you, Miss Jane.” They curtsy, of course, making me glower.
    “Shall we prepare, then?” Margolis asks with a slight hint of an accent—Romanian, if I’m not mistaken.
    I nod, removing my coat, but they grab for hangers with lingerie. Straightaway, I start to sweat. “Is there a bathroom? Is that stuff used?”
    “Of course not. It is the lingerie you will wear under your dress. After you’ve tried it all on, we will have it dry-cleaned and put with your gown.” Jenny points to the door