His Under Contract

The slamming of the front door echoes throughout the condo. I will not cry, no, no more crying. Only it happens, I’m on the floor again, crying with body wracking shudders over his words. Words I’ve heard from other bullies, taunting me about my ill-fitting, cheap clothes. Growing up, my clothes came from discount and charity stores, and it’s a hard habit to break. It was rare for me to buy clothes in the nicer stores because they were so expensive. I did buy my work clothes brand new, to prevent embarrassment, but my work wardrobe was thin. Just three pairs of pants and only five different blouses. In working as a cleaner, I hadn’t thought for one minute about what my clothes looked like. I should have known Ethan wouldn’t let me forget.

Another sob tears through me as I remember the disdain in his eyes. Damn him! He can’t do this to me, send me into tears every day. I can’t let him do this, if I do then I might as well walk out now, because he wins. The idea of letting him win gives me the strength to get up, he can’t win, he’s already won too often.

Teeth clenched tight, I begin to clean on autopilot. I ignore the perfume clinging to the jacket Ethan wore yesterday. Tears flare up again in his bathroom and bedroom, blinking around them, I continue to clean robotically. The day passes in a lethargic blur until I’m finished. I’m about to leave, not bothering with dinner because food doesn’t interest me, and he’ll be at a party after work, when my phone rings.

Amelia’s high sweet voice asks me how my day went. Damn it, I start crying all over again. Patiently, through me hiccupping out the tears, she gets the story of this morning out of me. For the first time ever, I hear Amelia swear harshly. She tells me to stay where I am, she’ll be over to get me. Still out of sorts, I do as I’m told.

Time passes without me paying attention. I’m still trying to calm down from talking to Amelia. I only realize time has passed when I’m jarred by her shaking my arm. “Come on, we are going to show his dumbass. Then I’ll consider whether or not I’ll forgive him, or over-starch his shirts for a week.”

“Go where?”

“To get you all decked out.” I’m being pulled up toward the door. The offensive check is still where it landed this morning.

Stopping at the door to the kitchen

, I point at the check. “Aren’t the banks closed, to cash it?”

Amelia grabs the check and hands it to me. I take it and fold it before putting it in my wallet. “This is on me. I got you into this situation of dealing with my asshole brother and putting up with his rude ass. I owe you.”

“No way, it’s not your fault your brother is an ass. I already owe you for getting me this job.”

Pushing me out the door, Amelia locks up and grabs my hand, pulling me after her. “Okay, fine. The reason I’m paying is I don’t want you getting all freaked about spending money, because we aren’t going shopping to just any place.

“I love you, Holly, but you hide your assets and you do have them. You have the body of one of the rap video chicks, a nice round booty and breasts men love. Sure, you aren’t a size eight—no big deal, men would still totally do you. You just have to dress better, not covering up everything, it actually makes you look heavier. To do it right, we’re going to have to spend some money. Where we are going, they have the clothes in your size that will make you look awesome. Trust me on this.”

In the cab, she gives the name of a store I flinch at. I’ve only been there once and that was just to go through to the other side. Fuck, Amelia wasn’t kidding.

She is dragging me into the store. Letting me go, she puts her hands on her hips. “Holly Messina, you stop this right now. I have gads of money. Ethan worked out my salary and my plastic mother is rich. If I don’t spend the money on you, it will just be on something else others will consider wasteful. This won’t be wasteful, it’s the right thing to do.”

Turning meek, in the face of her commanding nature that reminds me of Ethan, I follow her in. We go up an escalator and some distance before Amelia is stopped by a girl of about eighteen who is indecently tall and thin. “I want Tilly, go get me Tilly.”

I pretend not to be with the demanding Amelia. The girl disappears as Amelia taps her Jimmy Choo heels. Not long later, a woman I presume is Tilly appears. The woman is smiling, and hugs Amelia, I want to say she is Asian. Then she starts speaking and I recognize her accent is Filipino. I’m trying to sink into the floor as they talk about me.

Then, Amelia is grabbing my hand trailing me after both of them. I’m taken to a dressing room area then pushed into a plush velvet chair. The women disappear together. It seems like they are gone for forever. When they come back, they’re carrying mounds of clothes. Tilly has jeans, blouses, and shirts. Amelia has light dresses, both short and long. One look from Amelia is all it takes to have me up and following them into a dressing room.

“I don’t even know where to start.” I whine.

“With the jeans, I got six different kinds, because they don’t all have the same cut. Then, when we find the jeans that fit, we’ll start with the blouses and tee shirts.” Six different pairs of jeans? Tilly closes the door behind her.

Fine. I push down my jeans and reach for the first pair. The first pair feels different than mine, a fine down, even though it says denim. They are way too tight though, I can barely do up the button. Huh, they say size fourteen. I toss them over the wall, “Too tight.”

“Yes, this designer runs small. Keep going.” The pants disappear as Amelia orders me.

Trying on the second pair, they aren’t as soft as the others. These are definitely denim, they still feel better than mine. They cling, but not uncomfortably. They are only an inch or so too long. If I found them in the fat store, I would buy them and hem them, or wear them with shoes that have a slight heel. “These work, I think.”

Amelia opens the door, she looks me over and nods. Of course, my muffin top is there but not uncomfortably so. “These are good, but still try on the other ones. Toss those to me.”

I try on the next pair, they are way too long, and they don’t fit right in crotch. “No way on these.” I say as I toss them over the top.

“These are a no.” Tilly repeats as she makes them disappear.

The fourth pair is perfect, they caress without clinging to me, and with shoes they will be perfect, no hemming needed. “I love these.” Amelia opens the door. She and Tilly raise my top. I shrug off any modesty I might have ever had. They both nod.

“Those are good. Okay, only two left.” Amelia says. I open my mouth to argue but her expression changes my mind.

I can barely get the fifth pair up over my ass. “Yeah, I can’t even get these up.” I toss them over the door.

Yay! Last pair and these don’t work either, again they feel weird in the crotch area. “Nope on these, too. So, two pairs, right?”