I own alittle boutique, Evie’s Vault. This shop is my baby. My pride and joy. I love being here, probably more than I like being at home, and more often than not, you’ll find me right in this spot.
There’s something satisfying about being able to help people find that perfect outfit, being able to offer them advice and make sure all the right assets are flattered in their choice of clothing. Some people would call me vain for caring so much about appearances. They don’t get it, though. The right outfit can change your entire day.
If you feel good in what you’re wearing, that good feeling sinks right down to your soul, and your entire attitude shifts. If you feel like shit, well, you’re going to feel like shit all day. And take it from me, self-doubt isn’t easy to live with. Which is why having the right outfit is more important than people realize.
Also, I’m a southern lady. I was raised to never leave the house without looking my absolute best. A real-life beauty pageant queen. That’s me. Or at least it was me before I quit the circuit three years ago and opened my shop.
Best decision I ever made. Although it was more of an escape. The glamor and glitter of the pageant world are only there to hide the evil that resideswithin it. The monsters who disguise themselves as good people.
My mind drifts to my mother. I haven’t spoken to her in three years. All I was to her was a meal ticket. She loved my beauty. She never loved me. The funny thing is, that beauty that she loved so much, it’s only skin deep. A mask to hide the ugliness underneath.
Like I said, the right outfit shifts your mindset. If you look good, you feel good. For most people, that’s true. For me, the right outfit is nothing but a mask to hide the scars that are burned so deep into my soul I will never be free of them.
But I’m okay. I escaped. I have a million things to be thankful for. I have a successful business. I have my two best friends. Rachel and Charlotte, who are more like sisters. The moment I need them, I know they will drop everything and come running.
I’ve never bothered my friends with my issues, though. They wouldn’t understand. They love me and they would try, but they don’t know what it’s like to live with the memories I have. They don’t have to fear falling asleep.
I shake off those thoughts, because those kinds of thoughts don’t belong here. In my happy place. I refuse to tarnish my shop with the memories.
“I’m fine, honestly. You go ahead and take off, honey. I’m just going to straighten a few things out,” I tell Amy.
“I can stay,” she offers.
“No, seriously, go home to that hunky boyfriend of yours. Enjoy your night.” I laugh at her reddening cheeks. Amy’s boyfriend is the town’s most-eligible bachelor. She snapped him up off the market a year ago and there are still women mourning their losses over it.
I have no interest in him. I just like to see her blush whenever he’s mentioned. I like sex. Don’t get me wrong. I just have no interest in relationships. I’m far too damaged to be worthy of anyone else’s commitment. And I’ve accepted that. I’m okay with it. It’s better this way.
“Okay, I’ll go. But if you need anything, just call,” Amy says as she walks into the back room, returning with her purse a few moments later.
“I won’t need anything.” I chuckle. “But I appreciate the offer.”
The bell on the door rings as she leaves and I heave a sigh of relief. Alone. Sometimes I love just being alone. It’s easier. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to wear the fake smile or be the person everyone else needs me to be. I can just be… me.
After locking the door, I turn up the volume onthe radio and start reorganizing the dresses on the sale rack. This is what gives me peace, sorting everything, making sure the store is perfect.
Another two hours and I find myself walking through the front door of my house. It’s a small cottage, but it’s mine. And just like my store, I’m proud to own it. No one can take it from me. I know I won’t be sleeping tonight, so I turn on the television and flick through until I find something I can binge.
Sleep isn’t something I do often. I used to try every night, but then I gave up. Insomnia rules my life. When I do eventually fall asleep, I’ll be out of it for up to twenty-four hours. That’s only when my body can’t physically handle being awake any longer. Until then, I don’t fight it. I just find things to keep myself occupied.
When my phone rings and Charlotte’s name pops up on the screen, I jump to answer it. My friend was supposed to be married this past weekend. She ended up finding her fiancé in bed with her sister instead and then took off to Las Vegas without telling anyone. She just recently turned her phone back on and called Rachel and me, telling us that she was… getting to know some new guy.
It’s quick. But honestly, her fiancé was an ass and my friend deserves to be happy. So I’ve encouraged her to follow through and have fun with this guy inVegas. I even offered to come out and see her there. I don’t particularly want to. I’ve avoided that city for years…
“Charlotte, what’s happening?” I ask as soon as I answer her video call.
“I messed up,” she says, giving me an eyeful of her boobs.
“Okay, but did you do that with clothes on or did that happen afterwards?” I try not to laugh at her.
“Shit! Sorry.” I can hear her fumbling with the phone.
“It’s fine. What happened?”
“I went out. I was going to just go out by myself after I spoke to you and Rachel,” Charlotte explains, which is exactly what we urged her to do.
“Yep, and then what?”
“The moment I stepped outside the casino, Owen was there. He grabbed me and dragged me to the side,”
