Lev (Shot Callers 1)

She looked at me then, and with her eyes covered with sunglasses that made her look like a model, she peeked over the top of them. I didn’t miss the slight curl of her lip. “I’m a whole foot taller than you, and you weigh less than me. Besides, I don’t lie to my brothers.”

“Great,” I muttered.

Another few minutes of silence then she started, “Listen, I don’t know you, so no offense and all, but if you fuck over my brother—”

I didn’t let her finish. My shoulders rigid, I cut in, “I haven’t known your brother for more than twelve hours, but in that time, he has been extremely kind to me, and I would rather eat my own tongue than do something to hurt him.”

Silence.

“Not many women would have the lady balls to speak to me so boldly, let alone cut me off.” Her lips pursed in surprise.

Perhaps it was a compliment, but I was still pissed at her assumption. “Your brother seems like a smart man. And he’s always a step ahead of me. I’d like to think he knows what he’s doing, even if I don’t know why he’s doing it.” I kept it real. “Your brother doesn’t know it, but he saved my life.”

She turned back to the road, indicated left, and turned into a mall parking lot. “I will beat you bloody if you do anything to make him regret that.”

Placing my chin on my knuckles, I looked out of the passenger window and grumbled, “Got it.”

The clothing store Nas took me to was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Upon entering, we were served champagne, which I sipped once before putting it down, because it tasted like a thousand smarmy assholes. The clerk stood by, assessing me as Nas told her what I needed.

I was shoved into a dressing room that smelled of wildflowers and was the size of a single bedroom, with three outfits in hand. As soon as I undressed, Nas pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Squeaking, I used my arm to cover my boobs and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing?”

She snorted. “You got nothing I haven’t seen before, kulka.” At my clear panic, she rolled her eyes. “Relax, Max. I just wanted to see how the clothes fit.”

“Turn around,” I ordered.

She watched me closely. “Jesus.” She finally turned. “Prude much?”

Reaching for the closest dress, I threw it over my head. “You can turn around now.” I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was black, tight, and undeniably sexy, but… “This isn’t me.”

Nas stepped closer, pulling at the garment, her brow furrowed. “I think that’s kind of the point, right?” She stepped back, assessing the dress on me. She shook her head. “No, no. Not good. Try another.”

She turned before I could ask her to and I was grateful. I took off the black dress and tried on the white one. In very much the same style, tight and tailored, but this one had a pencil styled bottom. I liked it.

From the way Nas smiled, she liked it too. “Yes. Put it in the yes pile.” After trying on all the other clothes, it was clear that nothing else looked good on me. Nas cracked under the pressure, growling, “You’re so fucking thin. You look sick.”

It was said in anger, and I knew I shouldn’t have taken it to heart, but I did. Turning my back to her, I hid my shining eyes, blinking away tears of shame. I knew what I looked like. I didn’t need reminders. The way I looked made me sick. I know I looked ill. I felt ill. Did she think I had a choice?

“Hey,” she uttered softly then awkwardly added, “sorry.” I nodded, still facing away from her. She sighed. “I’ll have this wrung up and we’ll try somewhere else, okay?”

The latch of the door closed gently behind her, and I quickly changed into my too-big jeans, scruffy white tee, and Lev’s oversized sweater, slipping on my flip-flops. From outside the door, I heard Nas talk to the clerk. “We’ll take this one. The rest we’ll think about.”

“Very good,” the clerk stated. “That will be $849.00. How will you be paying today, miss?”

Before Nas could respond, I flew out of the changing room in a rage. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

The clerk sniffed with derision while Nas glared openly at me. “The hell is your problem?”

“No!” I shouted. Looking directly at the clerk, I spat, “That dress is not worth that much money. Do you know how many starving kids you could feed with $800.00? Do you?” My voice shaking, I muttered, “Shame on you.”

Without waiting for a response, I made my way out of the uptight boutique, my feet rushing to get somewhere—anywhere away from there. I made it a short distance away before Nas came running after me.