8 - The dress
1435 Words
The full length mirror in my room provides the best view of me from all angles, and I’ve made sure to adjust, and twist, and zip everything into its proper place.
This isn’t the first time I’ve pretended to have money in order to survive. I’ve snuck myself, and Liz, into some fancy events over the years, and we had our fill of free gourmet foods. Dry cleaners were lazy about who they gave gowns to on occasion, and the internet provided endless video tutorials on how to accomplish extravagant hair and makeup looks.
It was fun when Liz and I did it together, but the stakes are a bit higher tonight. Quite a bit higher.
Everything about my appearance has been calculated, from the dress to the elegant high bun, to the blood red lipstick I’m dawning.
The black suede wrap around dress shimmered endlessly, and even though the back was modest enough to cover my scars, the front left little to the imagination.
Long sleeves would accommodate the chilly night air, but my entire chest and right leg would be at the mercy of the elements tonight.
A knock at my door signaled that it was time to go.
“Are you ready little one?” Andre asks through the door.
“Just a minute!” I call out. I take a large breath in and exhale slowly before exiting the room. Taking a look around the house I asked, “Morozov isn’t here?”
“Boss needed to be at the dinner early. We will escort you tonight.” Ivan informs me.
“Oh..” I say disappointed. I had hoped to see if Morozov approved of my ensemble for the evening.
“You look beautiful. Do not worry about this.” Andre tsked at me.
I smiled. “Thanks friend.”
His eyes brightened ever so slightly at my words. Noted.
-
Ivan dropped Andre and I at the entrance, and drove around the building to park, while we headed inside. Swarms of well-dressed elites of the city funneled into one of New York’s fine arts and events center.
I was given a portfolio earlier in the night with photos of a few important names and faces that I needed to memorize.
Now I was gazing about the open room for any that I could recognize.
“Andre..” I whispered.
“Da?”
He leaned down lower to my level so I could ask, “where is he?”
“He will come and find you.” Is all he said before stepping away from me, and finding a place against the wall. When I moved to follow him he held out a hand to stop me, and shooed me back into the party.
Sure, of course. Guess I’ll just wait around then.
It the short time I’d been around Ivan and Andre, I’d grown rather attached and comfortable with them. Being on my own now felt like I was swimming in the open ocean, and fresh chum had just been added to the water.
Various gazes racked over me, some seemed unimpressed while others were practically undressing me with their eyes.
It was an effort not to shudder under their attention.
No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t spot Mr. Morozov anywhere, and I couldn’t help but feel so vulnerable out in the open.
So I looked for the next best thing.
A bathroom.
A sign up high on one of the pillars surrounding the room signaled its location.
I tried not to appear too eager or desperate for solitude as I made a beeline for the restroom.
Just before I pushed into the swinging door to my salvation, I saw an older gentleman hunched over and grabbing gently at his chest. I hesitated, because my safe place was only a few feet away, and this man didn’t seem to be in any life threatening danger, but I leaned off the door and headed for the man instead.
I softly cupped his elbow in my hand and offered assistance.
“Are you okay?”
He seemed startled at first, but after seeing my face he relaxed a bit.
“Don’t get old.” He rasped in a heavy accent, chuckling to himself.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I quipped. “Let’s get you to a chair.”
We slowly made for one of the dining tables and I helped the man to a seat.
“Wait right here.” I instructed. “Don’t move.”
I left and returned with a fresh glass of water.
“Here, you looked a bit dizzy. Drink this.” I instructed.
The man stared at me puzzled, but I didn’t see what the issue was. Nonetheless he took the water and drank from the glass greedily before setting it down.
“Thank you child.” He offered.
“Sophia.” I introduced “, and you’re most welcome. Do you need anything else before I-“
“Run away?” He guessed.
“..go to the restroom.” I finished.
The old man laughed dryly sending himself into a coughing fit. I picked up the glass. “Here.” I pushed the water towards his hands, urging him to drink.
“Are you always this bossy?” He coughed.
“I’m afraid so. Now please, drink.”
The glass emptied into his mouth as he needfully inhaled it.
He gasped when he finished. “Not even my doctors are brave enough to make demands of me.”
“Then you need better doctors.” I joked lightly. To which the man cracked a small barely noticeable smile. “I’ll be right back.” I took the glass with the intention of refilling it, and left the man sitting alone. A long table was set up in the back of the room with various fruits and cheeses. At either end of the table were two large dispensers of water and tea.
Before my hand reached the nozzle, a smooth feminine voice called out.
“You must be a thirsty one.”
I turned to the owner of the voice, and a beautiful woman in a bright red dress was sauntering my way. Her hair was as vibrant and red as her gown, and she had the curves to fill it out well enough.
Unsure of how to respond, I simply smiled and resumed filling the glass.
“That’s your second glass in all of 1 minute.” She pointed out.
“I didn’t realize they were monitoring the water distribution.” I snapped.
Something about her tone, her eyes, or her smile rubbed me the wrong way. Who was she to be questioning me? Her features were sharp and memorable, but I don’t recall seeing her in the portfolio of important persons to note.
“Are you here alone?” She inquired skeptically, while her eyes slowly took in my full appearance.
“I fail to see how that’s any of your concern. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Her brow ticked up in surprise at my response, but I left quickly before I could hear more than a scoff leave her lips.
-
When I returned to the table, the old man sat where I’d left him still clutching his chest.
“Is there someone I should call for you?” I asked.
“My grandson will be here shortly.” He waved.
“D-yed?” A thick Russian voice asked.
I spun around to find a concerned looking Morozov walking up from behind me.
He marched straight up to the old man placing a hand on his shoulder.
“dyedushka, ty v poryadke?” He asked the man again in Russian.
The old man smoothed out his grey hair and muttered an irritated response to Morozov. I can imagine he said something like ‘stop fussing over me I’m fine!’ because Morozov rolled his eyes before looking to me.
“Oh, um, he was clutching his chest. Then he was coughing so I brought him more water and-“ I began explaining.
Morozov’s hand flew up, telling me to stop speaking.
“He was coughing?” He asked.
“Well I guess I made him laugh-“
“Zhdat.” He interrupted again. “You made.. this man laugh?” Morozov pointed to the old man in question and I simply shrugged.
Whoever this man was, he apparently wasn’t easy to amuse, and I was feeling slightly proud of myself until Mr. Morozov spoke again.
“What the fúck are you wearing?”
With that..my smile and confidence vanished.
- Writer
