Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I look to Star. “You don’t want to wear this, do you, baby girl?”
She dribbles while grabbing a fistful of my hair. She never tugs too hard, so I let her go. She loves it, and I don’t mind when she plays with it. It’s super sweet.
“What do you think?” Delilah asks, walking in. “That outfit is what all the babies are wearing, it was so hard to get. I hope I’ve got her size right. Come here, baby. Let Maggie get dressed. I’ve left an outfit on your bed, too.”
Delilah takes Star from my arms and I stare at her, horrified. “An outfit for me?”
“Yes, you’ll love it. You deserve something for all the hard work you do. Go on, get changed. They’ll be here any minute.”
I give Star one last sympathetic expression and pray those pants are more flexible than they look, then I go downstairs and out to my living quarters. I walk in, and there, lying on the bed, is an outfit far worse than Star’s. It is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen, and I want to gouge my eyes out so I don’t have to look at it a second longer.
On the bed is a poo-orange dress. I can’t say normal orange, because there is just no way that dress is a standard color. It looks like someone mixed brown and orange paint together and then came up with the genius plan of putting it out there as a dress color. The dress itself is even worse. A straight cut, no give for curves, with mid-length sleeves, a neckline that is way too fucking high and puffy sleeves.
Puffy fucking sleeves.
This is a joke.
It has to be.
There is no way that people actually pay for this.
I pick it up and hold it against my skin. Way to make me look horrible. This doesn’t match my skin tone at all, and she knows it. She has to know it. Otherwise, why the hell would you pick it?
“What do you think?”
I spin around to see Delilah holding Star. Star is fussing, tugging at her clothes, and I can’t say I blame her. The poor baby looks horrible.
“Of the dress?” I squeak.
“Of course, silly. This dress was over five hundred dollars. It is a new arrival and people were flocking for it. I was going to take it myself but I wanted you to have something nice.”
Something nice?
Something nice?
I want to wheeze in horror.
“Ah, thank you,” I manage. “I hope it fits.”
Please don’t fit.
Please don’t fit.
“I have an eye for size, I think it will.”
She stands there, watching with a smile. She’s not going to leave. I grit my teeth and turn, slowly taking off my clothes until I’m in my bra and panties.
“Oh honey, those aren’t the underwear you’re getting around in, is it? They’re so worn out. I’m going to have to take you underwear shopping.”
Please don’t.
“They’re fine,” I say, taking the dress and unzipping it.
I step into it and already I can feel the material is heavy and hot. I don’t have the kind of body this dress suits, and I’m certain she knows it. Why else would you torment somebody like this?
She places Star down on a mat on the floor and walks over, stepping up behind me. “Let me help.”
Someone help me, please.
Help me get out of this horror.
After some tugging and pulling, Delilah zips the dress up. I can tell already just by looking down that I resemble a box more so than a lady in an expensive dress. I don’t have the right body shape for this, and if Delilah wasn’t being so nice, I would tell her so. But she is being nice, and she has clearly gone to an effort to get me this dress, so who am I to be horrible about it?
I turn around and Delilah smiles. “Wow, that looks great on you.”
Either she’s a really good liar, or I know nothing about fashion.
“Ah, thanks,” I say.
The doorbell rings.
Delilah’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’s them. They all have their nannies with them, it’ll be a good chance for you to make some friends. Come on.”
She scoops up Star, and I tug the dress awkwardly as I rush out the door behind her. We enter the house and she hands Star to me as she goes over, straightening her dress as she answers the door. A chorus of voices quickly fills the house as about six women enter. It’s clear which ones are the nannies and which ones are the rich moms. Mostly because the nannies hustle in with babies and strollers, while the others roll in as if they own the place.
If this wasn’t such good money, I wouldn’t be here.
But it is, so I suck it up.
“Ladies,” Delilah says, “this is my nanny, Maggie. Maggie, these are my friends. You may show the other nannies Star’s playroom. We’ll have some food brought in there shortly.”