“Told you it suited you,” Dahlia declares, reading the message about the fishtail dress over my shoulder. “Which means you’ll need something in pounamu and there’s nothing here suitable. Time to hit the main street.”
And we do. For another hour.
After buying a large pendant necklace, Dahlia insists the dress needs more bling and piles a selection of bracelets onto the purchase. “Please stop,” I beg her, laughing as she adds another expensive trinket to the pile. “This is far too much.”
“Yeah, but those boys are buying our silence, aren’t they?” She nudges me with her elbow. “And you don’t want them to think they’ll get off lightly the next time they do something heinous. If you don’t take advantage when they’re facing potential arson and reckless endangerment charges, what lesson is that going to teach them?”
I fix a smile in place, my mind working to decipher what she means.
Maddox never told me to keep anything secret. It must be connected to what happened on the night we met, but he’s made no mention.
Dahlia levels a cautious glance at me. “Have I said something wrong?”
“No,” I assure her. “Just finding the whole day overwhelming. I thought it was amazing when Maddox paid for my uniform and my street clothes. This is…” I wave my hand in the air.
“Yeah, it is. Don’t you love it?”
Even if I didn’t, it would be hard to counter her enthusiasm. “Do you mind if we stop for a coffee? My feet need a rest.”
She ducks to the loo while we’re waiting for the order, and I pull out my phone, searching for something connected to the arson. It takes a while to find—the headline is buried on page three of the search results—but my ears buzz as I read the article.
It hurts to discover Maddox doesn’t trust me. I thought we were closer, and it’s even more annoying that I don’t feel fully entitled to my anger because I’ve held things back, too.
Like the small detail that I once sucked his father’s cock for money. A fact that could only harm him and something I’d like to keep private until the end of time.
If we were rating on a scale, someone might even consider my fib worse because he asked me a direct question and I lied, whereas he just omitted the information.
The thought makes me angrier. I caught him in a lie but I’m the one who feels guilty? That’s not fair.
But at least the anger makes me more comfortable about spending his money. “Shoes,” I declare the moment Dahlia returns to the table. “That’s what we’re missing. Expensive, uncomfortable, inappropriately high-heeled shoes.” I smack my lips together with satisfaction. “Did I mention expensive?”
She sags back in her chair, clapping her hands. “Now, you’re getting it.” She clinks her mug against mine. “Cheers to our five-figure shopping spree and trying to max out a credit card.”
We hit designer shoe stores next, not part of the centre but along a narrow street of shops that branch off it, growing more exclusive the farther we go.
At the last boutique before the corner, I find a cute pair of cream shoes, tinted in the palest shade of my dress and twinkling with adornments. The salesperson frowns as I sit and try on the shoe from the display, spending an age fixing the thin straps so they’re positioned perfectly.
“Oh, they’re gorge!” Dahlia enthuses, before turning to the sales rep, opening her eyes wide when he doesn’t immediately jump to attention. “Could you bring the other half of the pair when you get a moment, sweetie?”
Her saccharine smile doesn’t encourage him to move any faster, and she rolls her eyes once he disappears into the storeroom.
“You haven’t really made it until a shop assistant looks down on you,” she whispers, the attitude rolling straight off her back.“Don’t worry. Once he sees the name on the card, he’ll change his tune. It’s like nobody down this end of town’s seenPretty Woman.”
The retort makes me smile, even though I count myself among that number. Dahlia’s eyes light up as she spies something, then her phone rings and she frowns, hunching her shoulder as she turns away from me, asking the caller, “Are you okay?”
I guess not because a moment later, she takes the conversation outside, speaking with urgency and looking distressed. When she returns, the happiness has drained from her expression.
“Sorry but I have to go. A friend’s in trouble.” She digs into her wallet, pulling out Maddox’s card for me. “Buy those and get some flats you can fit into your handbag. The boys always want to go to an afterparty and half the time they insist it’s so close they can walk.”
She rolls her eyes but her heart’s not in the day any longer.
“Is there something I can help with? I don’t need to keep shopping.”
“No, it’s…” Dahlia trails into a frown, flicking a thumbnail against her teeth. “A friend has an abusive partner,” she confesses, spots of colour burning high in her cheeks. “I just need to…”
A rush of sympathy sweeps through me. Her hand flies to her throat as the words tangle into a sob. “Go!” I say, alarmed, giving her a hug before stepping back, making a shooing gesture. “Go see to your friend.”
“You’ll be okay?”
