Cec goes in first, followed by Bes. “E tu, Francesca. And this is—”
“Amelia Hawkins,” I interject once the door shuts behind me with a click. “But you can call me Mel.”
“Mel, good to meet you.” She smiles brightly, genuinely. “I have a few outfits back here to choose from. I’ll show you and then leave you to it.” She glances behind us, worry pinching her brow. “Quickly now; the Guardiani Notturni will be out patrolling the streets soon.”
She hurries us toward the back of the shop, where half a dozen candles illuminate the open changing area, leaving the front half of the store in increasing darkness.
“The Guardiani Notturni?” Concern corrupts Bes’s query. “I’ve never heard of them.”
She waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry, only I call them that. The Blackshirts change their shifts right after sundown, and those particular men can—and do—get away with much more when only shadows fill these streets.”
Bes nods. “Then we should hurry.”
“As I said,” she mutters, regarding her rows of clothes. I scratch my nose to hide a grin.
With Francesca’s attention elsewhere, I’m able to case the shop. Feathers and chiffon and sequins and colorful leathers pack its high, crimson-painted walls, along with masks and wigs and hats of all shapes and sizes. Dozens of mirrors, both large and small, short and wide, reflect everything around us. It makes the area appear bigger than it actually is.
Francesca flips through the vibrant fabrics on the rack before her with manicured hands, the wooden hangers clunking against each other.
“Here we are,” she murmurs to herself as she sorts through the silks.
I’m already not keen on what she’s picked out for me to wear to this club, no matter her taste. If the idea is to blend in, she’s likely to hand me a gown, and I deplore gowns. I only begrudgingly agreed to the dress I’m currently wearing because I knew I would stand out too much if I didn’t.
Nonna tried to put me in long dresses on Sundays for church when I was young, but I managed to wriggle my way out of it every single time before we even made it to the car. I would then skip down the street half-naked for all the neighbors to see.
When she recognized I wouldn’t stop no matter how old I got, she gave up.
I shut my eyes and hold my breath to brace myself for disappointment, opening them reluctantly.
“Oh.” I say foolishly. It’s not at all what I was expecting.
The color of the fabric—which I’d wager to be silk—boasts a deep mauve. Short sleeves flutter away from the shoulders in loose ruffles, and while the neckline pulls in around the collarbone, it also plunges deep. The waist possesses the ability to be tightened with sink ties in the back. Beneath that, though, it’s no longer a dress. In fact, it looks more like wide-legged pants.
I could swear I’ve seen this fashion before. Perhaps in a couture magazine when I was bored at the doctor’s office for my recent yearly checkup? I’ve never seen it in real life, though.
“Is this a jumpsuit?”
She smiles gently. “Corretta. It looks like a dress, but will fit like pants.”
Taking a step back, she eyes my feet. “And the length should be perfect to cover your boots without dragging on the floor. You don’t want to draw attention to them, but I also understand it would not be wise to wear heels.”
At least I won’t have to wear impractical footwear.
Unable to keep my thoughts to myself and be grateful for once, I ask, “How did you know I wouldn’t want to wear a dress?”
“I can see you are not that kind of girl, eh?”
I smile, then lower my voice. “Do you know anything about the God Men?”
At first, I could swear something like recognition sparks in her eyes. It’s gone just as quickly. She cocks her head to the side and furrows her brow.
“God Men? Do you mean holy men? Like priests?”
I press my lips together in disappointment. “Never mind.”
Francesca moves on quickly, glancing at my scarf. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take your hair down. Otherwise, they might get a good look at your face and realize you’re not Italian.”
Except that I am. At least, half of me is. I don’t think she meant it that way, but it still stings.
