“Word of advice? When we’re in there, try not to let Octavia rattle you,” she says when we’ve caught our breath. “The more you let your anger show, the happier she’ll be. She’s like some mythological hell-beast that feeds on misery.”
“It would be easier to ignore her if she wasn’t threatening people I care about.” The clock on the wall begins to chime. I glare at it, as if that might somehow stop time. “Guess that’s our cue.”
“Don’t worry,” Chloe whispers conspiratorially, stepping up to my side. “I have something that’ll make this experience a lot more enjoyable.”
“Cyanide?” I ask, only half-joking.
“Better.” She pulls out a small plastic baggie, glances around for Simms or one of the ever-watchful housekeepers, and dumps its contents into her palm. “Take one. Thank me later.”
I blink down at the two innocuous-looking gummy bears. “What are they?”
“Just a little something to take the edge off. I call themOctavia-Tamers. Makes her at least somewhat bearable to be around —especiallywhile doing something this odious.”
“Will it really be that bad? Picking out a dress can’t possibly take that long, can it? I figured twenty or thirty minutes, as a generous estimate.”
Chloe snorts. “Oh, you’re so new. It might be cute if it weren’t so tragic.”
“Forty-five minutes?” I grimace when she shakes her head. “Anhour?”
“Try two hours of dress selection, followed by another two hours of custom tailoring. Which, if you aren’t familiar, generally involves standing in one spot in front of an unflattering mirror while a sadistic seamstress sticks needles into your bodice.” Her hand extends again, fingers waggling. “Trust me. You do not want to do this sober.”
“I don’t know…”
Rolling her eyes, she grabs my palm, presses one bear into it, then promptly tosses the other back into her mouth. “See you on the other side, comrade.”
Before I can stop her, she strides for the parlor doors. Frozen with indecision, my eyes flicker back and forth between her hand reaching for the knob and my own, still holding the tiny gummy bear. His tiny face is set in a happy smile. The clock chimes its final toll.
“Sorry, little guy,” I murmur. “It’s your life or mine.”
Two seconds before the door opens, I pop him into my mouth.
* * *
I’m not generallywhat you’d call a druggie.
Thefirsttime I ever got high, I was fifteen. Owen and I made a makeshift pipe out of an apple core, and we smoked a clump of stale weed he bought from an upperclassman while sitting in the childhood treehouse in his backyard. Probably not our best idea, seeing as I got so dizzy descending the ladder, I fell twelve feet, fractured my arm in two places, and spent the rest of that summer wearing a cast.
Coincidentally, that was also thelasttime I ever got high.
I don’t remember much about the experience — mostly just feeling itchy in my own skin, full of restless ideas but devoid of the energy required to put them into practice.
Like I said: I’m not what you’d call a druggie.
But whatever special ingredient Chloe’s bears contain is a whole different caliber. I don’t feel high at all. In fact, I feel so mellow, I could sink down into the floor and disappear.
Calm. Unflappable. Chill.
The four hours of dress selection and tailoring pass in a hazy blur of zippers and hats and hemlines and lace-covered buttons. Normally, I’d be self-conscious about standing nearly naked in front of a mirror while three strange women measure every square inch of my body… but with the help of Mr. Bear, I feel fully confident in my size-six booty and plentiful C-cups — even standing next to Chloe, whose willowy stature could make a super-model insecure enough to skip lunch.
As the afternoon wanes on, Octavia grows increasingly annoyed when her snide comments about my “full figure” fail to inspire a response. She switches tactics, harping on the “atrocious orchid color” of my hair in an attempt to provoke me. The expression on her face as I blithely agree to dye it a more discreet brown before the funeral is truly priceless.
Mr. Bear, today you are my hero.
Followed closely by Chloe.
It’s nearly four by the time we’re finally released for the day. The effects of the CBD-infused cub are just starting to wear off. Chloe links her arm with mine as we race out of the parlor, a knowing grin splitting her face.
“What’s the verdict?”