The Dance That Started It All

He led me by my wrist into bustling boutiques and jewelers, pushing me into cream-colored changing rooms with an armful of expensive evening gowns and dresses. The dresses felt heavy, like jewel laden anvils hanging from my hips.
"Don't you think this is a bit excessive?" I crossed my arms over my chest. Tires and tiers of gaudy teal chiffon piled heavy and wide over myself, making me feel like a walking circus tent. "Any more fabric and I wouldn't fit through the door."
"Oh come on now, doors are for the peasants." He imitated the haute, breathy voice of the old money crowd, sticking his nose up and hmph-ing for emphasis.
I smiled, repressing a guffaw.
"Here, you may appreciate this more," he handed me a satin gown folding it over my arms, his hands slightly brushing against my own. My stomach churned. "Its not quite as- impractical shall we say?"
"I appreciate it." It was a modest peach hue that reminded me of what I imagine hope would be had it been a color. I ran a finger down the seams of the bodice and back again. "If this is you trying to get on my good side, you're on the right track." I teased, sticking my tongue out slightly before ducking back into the fitting room.
It slid over me in a slow, romantic way, the way that it must feel like to be embraced by a lover- soft and gentle. A smile wormed its way across my flushed face and girlish giddiness swelled in my chest. Maybe I was a princess after all this. I arched my back in the mirror, examining the reflection.
"Hey," I spoke, running my hand through my hair,"I like it."
He looked up, lashes framing his vividly striking irises. "I do too, snowflake- suits you nicely." Jack stood up from the stool and approached my with a sly grin. "but it could be made even better..."
"I don't-"
Cool fingertips traced my collarbones in fluid sweeps, "Could string a pearl necklace here-"
A stammer lodged itself at the base of my throat and a violent warmth ripped itself through me like a wildfire.
"a nice shawl here," His hands trailed to my bare arms. I was absolutely positive I was running a fever now- my tongue trapped in my throat,
"I-I-I-"
"And to wrap it up maybe a pearl bracelet-" Pallid fingers drew themselves to the underside of my wrists and to my palms.
Lord have mercy. Despite his fingers feeling as though he'd just pulled them from an ice box, I felt as though I was going to have a heatstroke.
"Stop, people are going to think things about us."
"Maybe I want them to."
A nervous laugh spilled from my lips, remembering what Anna had told me about her obsession.
"Well I don't- come on- we still have a lot of land to cover anyways."
He dropped my hands, "You're no fun, you know that?"
"Believe me I'm fully aware."
An awkward five minutes of transaction passed, while aging spinsters of saleswomen craned their necks to gawk at us from every corner as I fought the urge to cover my face. I knew Jack didn't mind, probably embracing the attention if anything. I held the bag to my chest if only to cover my face even a little.
I hardly paid attention to where we were going, following in little steps behind him and hoping not to draw too much attention until we got back to his model ford. Or at least until we got to what used to be it. Jack stopped abruptly in front of me, nearly sending me stumbling into his back. I snapped my head up to say a few harsh words until I noticed something: for once he had fallen silent. I craned my neck to see what he was gawking at- and I too fell silent.
The only thing he loved more than himself was unrecognizable. Dents covered the body like bruises, blue flesh peeled to reveal a silver skeleton. Glass covered the ground and glistened like tears in the snow. To him it must have looked like a murder scene and despite the utter contempt I felt towards him, some part of me wanted to comfort him.
"I'm sorry." I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a single awkward pat, curt and brisk. I didn't think it did much.
Jack's shoulders slackened under my touch. "Why are you sorry? You didn't murder her."
The bag of expensive goods hung heavy on my right arm like leaden shackles."Well if I hadn't been here-"
"Stop __. There's no use in thinking like that- besides it was my idea."
He paid a lot for these on top of now having to repair the car? It seemed like a small fortune within itself... "Maybe it'd be better if we separated and-"
"No, I promised." Jack said, sighing, "and besides, leaving won't bring her back. We'll just catch a train the rest of the way there."
"What if this is deliberate though? After all, nothing was stolen and yours was the only car hit."
"Then what of it? I have more than enough money to get a new one."
"...I mean I can't stop you...but if you insist we can flag down a cab."
It turns out trying to catch one at three o' clock in the afternoon was a feat within itself. After hiking to the main road and everything, they buzzed pass us like bees, black and yellow blurs down main street and into the distance onto oblivion. My arms having become limp and numb from waving for the past twenty minutes, I was more than frustrated. I was about to give up on the idea of a taxi and New York entirely when I saw him in my peripheral when he thought I wasn't looking, a deep frown etched into his face, one unbecoming of a young womanizer like him and his shoulders hunched together. I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. That was until an idea crept to mind.
"Hey, do you mind if I see your wallet for a hot minute?"
"First you're worried about how much cash I'm throwing at you and then you want it all? You really just may be a gold-digger after all, snowflake." My lips curled in disgust. The keyword being almost.
"I have an idea, but I need you to trust me."
"How do I know you won't run off with it you little temptress you?"
"Oh Christ-" I rolled my eyes, and crossed my arms over my chest.
"I have an idea, I'll let you see it for a kiss."
"Excuse me? What kind of woman do you take me for?" I cried hotly, my face aflame. My hands were balled into fists, ready to start swinging at the prince.
"Oh, come on." He stepped closer to me on the sidewalk, "I know men who would take so much more given the circumstances." He towered over me at this point, and I felt as though I was the human caricature of a fire hydrant.
I laughed dryly, borderline breathy, "I'm aware, although I also know you aren't one of those men: you may be an ass but you're no sex offender."
He huffed and took a step back, "You're no fun."
I sighed, remembering his behavior in the department store. "Just hand over that damned wallet."
"No."
"Oh dear lord you really are spoiled rotten."
"You know my terms." I could hear the repression of that wolfish grin and I was already beyond furious at the mere suggestion.
"I suppose you've worn me down." I feigned surrender, placing the back of my hand over my forehead.
"I knew you'd come to see it my way." Jack gloated, and I wished for nothing more than do drag my palm across his pallid cheeks. Maybe that would give them some color, I thought sourly.
He leaned forward towards me, a mischievous glint in his icy blue eyes. He thought he was in control here, how wrong he was. I grabbed his wrist, sliding my fingers along the pulse and into his palm, raising it to my plump lips deliberately, dragging it over the Frost family crest ring before gently pressing my slightly parted mouth to his knuckles.
"I-I" He stuttered. I grinned against his hand before using my own to slip his wallet from his waistcoat.
"There, I hope you're satisfied now you disgusting man." I said blandly, stepping off the sidewalk where another taxi was quickly approaching. I slipped out a green wad of cash and waved it above my head, Benjamins winking playfully at the driver.
Screeeeeeeeeech!
The car came to a grinding halt, front bumper's hot metal stopping just in front of my knee. The driver popped his head from the cab.
"Where you headin' lady?"
"Bring us to the train station!" I gestured to Jack and I.
He nodded in acknowledgment, and I yanked the door open and slid in followed by a still flustered Jack. The cab smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, but was awfully more comforting than the reek of the heavily perfumed boutiques. I tucked the bills back into the Italian leather wallet and tossed it into his lap.
"Here, thanks for letting me borrow it." I grinned wearily.
"You know you could have told me what you were planning on doing beforehand, right?"
"And you could have just handed me the wallet." I spoke airily, running my fingertips over the concealed envelope in my breast pocket.
He looked at me curiously, with a intense gaze way beyond the fragile age of nineteen that didn't suit his eternally young face.
"Have you opened it yet?"
I watched the people phase by the window, briefly passing birds in the skies that were society.
"I'm afraid to." I admitted softly.
"Why, it's just an envelope," he said mockingly, "What's the worst it can do, give you a paper cut?"
"No, I'm afraid of what's in the envelope." I said, perhaps harsher than I meant.
"Relax, snowflake, there's no need to snap your cap. I was just teasing you." He placed a hand on my back, tense with anxiety. "Tell me, what's on your mind?"
I sighed deeply before contemplating my answer. What was I afraid of most: humiliation? I have had my fair share of that, particularly over the past few years. Wasting my time? Even had I not succeeded in meeting Maria, I was still within the cradle of big city life, my fantastic not-so fantasy. Rejection? That seemed the most likely, losing what may be the only link to my mother, the only gracious figure in my life via another member of that same part of the family.
"What if she tells me I'm nothing to her and my mother? A stranger who was in some sort of tragic delusion?" My voice was soft and delicate, completely unlike myself. My throat burned and an odd sensation of exposure ran through my veins.
His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath before talking. "What does that have to do with the letter though?"
I fidgeted, only comforted my his hand on my shoulder, persuading me to speak. "What if it's something I wish not to read, telling my father or whomever that I truly am the daughter of some call girl or another- that I have no relations to the woman who raised me..."
I averted my gaze, instead preferring to count the morning doves strolling high among the baby blues of suburbia. A mother waited for an electric trolley with her waist-tall daughter and infant son, each with short brown bobs and long faces. A man in a suit and fedora strode down the sidewalk, sharp nosed with beady eyes- almost rat like.
The car was now slowing, the massive citadel of the train station casting a large shadow over the small yellow bumblebee roaming slowly in the parking lot. I don't know how many seconds, nor minutes had passed me by, staying in the backseat of that taxi cab, with Jack's hand on my still taut shoulder.
"Hey, when you're ready, _, we'll go." He said to me, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly yet firmly.
"Yeah," He slipped out from the vehicle and circled about, opening my side of the door and offering his hand to me.
I took it, thankful for even the small degree of comfort and watched him hand the olive-skinned driver a stack of bills half the width of my fingernail.
"Thank you."
"For what? I didn't do anything." He flashed me a quick quirk of the corner of his lips. "But if it comforts you, if the duchess is really out there, I'm more than convinced you're her."
He doesn't know how much that means to me, I thought as we dove into the next stop on the path to my future, watching the bumblebee fly back into traffic.