Damsel Under Stress (Enchanted, Inc. 3) - Page 122

“That’s the idea.”

“No, when I’m ready for that kind of thing—and I mean after we’ve been going out for more than a few weeks—I’d need something a little more classy, less calculated and obvious.”

“Okay, then, try the bra on,” Gemma said, herding me toward the fitting rooms with Marcia at her side. They didn’t give me much choice but to go with them.

That didn’t stop me from protesting. “I know what size I wear,” I insisted.

“It can be different in different styles. In fact, you should try a couple of different sizes.”

I really dug my heels in when they followed me into the fitting room. “I can do this alone, thank you very much.” Gemma and Marcia ignored me, barging into the small room with me.

I changed out of my top, and with my back turned I took off my bra and tried on the one Gemma handed me. Then I turned around to get their opinion and found that they were holding my blouse, my purse, and my coat. “Okay, since we’re all here, we need to talk,” Gemma said.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“We’re having an intervention,” Marcia said.

“A what?” I moved toward the door to get away from them, then realized that unless I wanted to go out in just a bra, I was stuck because they were holding my blouse and coat.

“We’re worried about you,” Gemma said. “You’ve been acting odd lately. And we’ve been getting the feeling that you’re lying to us about something.”

“You never used to lie to us,” Marcia added. “You can’t tell a good lie and not look like you’re lying, which is why we know you’re hiding something from us. But we want you to know that no matter how bad it is, you can talk to us. We’ll try to understand, and we’ll be here for you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, sure I was proving their point about looking like a liar. “And do we have to get into this here?”

“We planned to do this here,” Marcia said. “At home, you could lock yourself in the bathroom or go out. But right now, you’re stuck, and you have to listen to us.”

“Y’all are blowing this out of proportion,” I said, feeling frantic.

“You’ve got symptoms of drug abuse, or maybe mental illness,” Gemma said. “I looked it up on the Internet. You’re gone a lot with no explanation, you lie about where you’ve been, you’re associating with different people. You don’t enjoy things you used to enjoy.”

“I’ve got a new job,” I pointed out. “Of course I’m associating with new people, and I’m gone more often because I have more responsibility.”

“This job is on the up-and-up, isn’t it?” Marcia asked. “And the new boyfriend, he’s not a drug dealer or an abuser, or anything like that?”

“You met him. What do you think?”

“I spent about twenty seconds with him before you hustled him out the door. Hey, wait a second, you aren’t ashamed of us with your new work friends, are you? You didn’t seem crazy about your friends joining us for lunch today.”

“No, it’s not like that at all.” I tried to think of an explanation, but I was afraid I’d only make matters worse since they were definitely onto my lies and cover-ups. As a last resort, I decided on telling the truth—well, some of it. “It’s just weird to mix worlds like that, you know? I’ve always had my work friends and then y’all, and I never had to mix the two groups. I kept my personal life and my work life separate. Now that I’m dating someone from work and some of my coworkers have become real friends, it feels like my worlds are colliding, and it’s taking some adjusting.” Oh boy, was it. “I mean, look at how freaky it was to run into my old boss here. Lunch today was that kind of thing for me.”

Gemma handed me my blouse. “We just want you to know we’re here for you if you ever want to talk. And that bra fits you perfectly. You should take it.”

“But we will be getting to know your boyfriend better at the party so we can be sure about him,” Marcia added.

“I can assure you he doesn’t have me under mind control, and he’s not trying to recruit me into a dangerous cult and separate me from my friends and family. Now, can I have some privacy?”

They were waiting out in the store when I returned, fully dressed and my wits more or less about me. This had been possibly the closest call I’d yet had in hiding my magical double life. Gemma had picked out a pair of flesh-toned fishnet tights. Mimi was torturing a sales clerk by making her open and search through every drawer to make sure the bra she wanted wasn’t hiding from her. I certainly felt the clerk’s pain. I was sure that as soon as the salesgirl found the bra, Mimi would change her mind and want to find a different one.

I’d just checked out and was moving toward the store exit when Owen’s necklace went nuts. It was vibrating so hard it was almost painful. That meant big magic was in use nearby. Even without the necklace I’d have felt the power flying around. Before I had a chance to react, someone grabbed me and pulled me toward the exit.

Gemma and Marcia flew into action, hitting the guy holding my arm with their shopping bags and purses. My attacker was probably my old friend, Mr. Bones. Under my roommates’ assault, he let go of me, but I wasn’t sure where to turn. I didn’t want to run out of the store because there were likely more goons out there waiting for me. I threw a few good kicks into the mix, and soon he was the one running from the store.

But that didn’t stop the chaos. When the door opened to let my would-be kidnapper out, something else seemed to come in. I still felt magic in use and wondered if my magical bodyguards had come on the scene. I hated being without my magical immunity because it meant I could only guess at what was going on. A negligee-clad mannequin toppled over, then tried to right itself before falling over on the other side, right on top of Mimi. This time, she was the one to shove the mannequin upright, but she didn’t seem to notice that she had something lacy and filmy hanging off the back of her head. That sight alone made up for the scary moments earlier.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gemma said. She and Marcia each took one of my arms and marched me out of the store. “That was bizarre. See why we’re worried about you?”

“Hey, you’re not blaming me, are you?” I asked, trying to keep up with their longer strides. “Did you think I set that up?”

Tags: Shanna Swendson Enchanted, Inc. Fantasy
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