“Sixteen?” someone in the back practically hollers.
“Did you say six or sixteen?” someone else yells.
The sales assistant glances at me with another tight smile. “Sixteen.”
I shift uncomfortably on my feet, gripping the strap of my purse, my face flaming from the weight of all the stares I’m on the receiving end of. I’ve never had an issue with my size. People have been calling me names ever since I was twelve years old, but I never paid it any mind. I grew up believing that it was their issue, not mine. I’m fat. There’s literally nothing wrong with it. I’m healthy. And, in my opinion, I’m fine as hell. I’ve always been confident with my appearance, despite the hang-ups of other people. But right now, I’ve never felt more self-conscious. The urge to curl in on myself like an armadillo and roll right out of the store is high.
“The biggest we have is a size twelve pant suit,” someone says after a moment.
“I’m sorry,” the woman in front of me says, entirely unapologetically. “I don’t think we can help you. You’re a little too… big for this store.”
“There’s a Macy’s out at Gardens Mall,” another person adds with a derisive scoff. “I think they have a plus-size section…”
I hold my chin up despite the heaviness I feel in my bones. And, with a smile, I nod. “Thank you,” I say under my breath,turning and hurrying back out of Bellamy’s, fully aware of the snickers echoing throughout the store as I exit.
It isn’t until I’m back in the safety of Brookes’ blacked-out Range Rover, hidden away from the judgey gaze of those nearby, that I allow my tears to fall. I hate crying, especially over horrible women like the sales associates in Bellamy’s. But I’m also only human, with human emotions that sometimes get the better of me.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I pull my phone out with trembling hands, not sure what to do. It’s almost midday. Oh my God, Brookes is going to fire me after my first day, I’m so sure.
CHAPTER 13
BROOKES
My phone vibrates against my thigh as I hate-fuck a bucket of balls with my driver under the guise of long-range practice. Today has been a day, and it is barely noon. Tugging my phone from the pocket of my shorts, I see Poppy’s name on the screen and I briefly consider ignoring her call, but then I realize, right now, I could probably do with the distraction.
Tossing Matt my driver, I walk away and answer with a low, murmured, “What’s up?” A sniffle greets me, and immediately I’m on edge because… is she crying?
“Hello?” I press, my voice firm.
“Oh, hey,” Poppy says, clearing her throat. She was definitely crying, but now she’s trying to act like she wasn’t. Something’s up. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t think I can come tonight.”
What the fuck?
“Uh, you have to,” I scoff and then, looking around to make sure I’m out of ears’ reach, I lower my voice again. “It’s literally yourjob.”
“It’s just—” Her voice cuts off, a loud, wailing sob blubbering out of her and through the phone. I’m forced to pull the device away from my ear to prevent any permanent loss of hearing.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, cutting to the chase.
Poppy sniffles again. “I went… to get a dress,” she says with a hiccup. “And normally I never let anyone get to me but they… they were so mean to me.”
“Who was mean to you?” I shake my head, more lost than I’ve ever been before because what the hell is going on? “Poppy, take a damn breath.”
She takes a stammering breath and continues, “The sales assistant. At Bellamy’s. I’m too fat to shop in their store.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” I growl before I can stop myself.
Poppy sighs. “I mean, it was my own stupid fault for even going there in the first place. Of course they don’t stock my size. I’m a sixteen for chrissake. I’m not going to be able to find a dress for tonight, Brookes. I’m not a size six.”
I find myself pinching the bridge of my nose because I don’t know what any of those words even mean, and I can feel a headache fast approaching. Then, glancing up, I look at Jonesy sitting in his fold-out chair, reading his newspaper while he and Matt wait for me.
“Where are you?”
Poppy sniffles again. “In your car. Worth Avenue.”
“Okay. Just… wait there. Go... get a coffee or something.”
“I don’t drink coffee after midday.” She’s still blubbering. Jesus fucking Christ.
