Help Me by Clara Bayard

was my grandfather.”
    “The shipping guy who owned half this city?”
    “The same.”
    I felt dizzy and grabbed his arm without thinking. “This is by far the strangest week I’ve ever had.”
    Trey laughed. “I know what you mean. But my point is, let me buy you some damn clothes. I can afford it.”
    “No, no. Forget about the clothes. What the hell are you doing with me? Helping me? And…why are you hanging out at a…brothel or whatever you call it.”
    He sighed and took my hand. “It’s a long story that I’ll be happy to tell you, but not right now. All you need to know this minute is I’ve got a lot to lose if this goes wrong.”
    “Yeah, so why…”
    “So we need to do this right. And that means getting you really expensive clothes so that Veronica won’t get any more suspicious than she already is.”
    “Right, of course. I…I don’t know what to say.”
    “Don’t say anything. Just relax and let me take you shopping.”
    “Um…okay.” It wasn’t my wittiest response, but I was having a hard time breathing, let alone speaking. The Hellers were an old Philadelphia family. The first Heller to come to America had gotten drunk with the founding fathers or something like that, and the connection to power in the city had continued for generations. Hellers were eternal celebrities and richer than anyone I’d ever met before. I remembered hearing stories about them when I was little. The local news covered them like royalty. And when Senator Heller – Trey’s father – left the multi-billion dollar family business to run for office, it had made headlines across the country.
    “Hang in there, little mouse,” he said, pulling back onto the road. “The store we’re going to has champagne and from the look on your face, you’re going to need a couple of glasses.”
    +
    True to his word, Trey got me tipsy within moments of arriving at the store. Well, boutique really. Much different from the big box stores most of my clothes came from. It reminded me of something I’d seen on a cable show about expensive weddings. But this place didn’t sell wedding dresses. It sold a little of everything. Not that I was getting a chance to see anything on my own. I was sitting on a spindly chair in a dressing room bigger than my dorm room at school in underwear and a robe they’d provided, waiting.
    Between glass number one of champagne and number two, a woman dressed all in black had come in and taken my measurements before telling me to relax. “We’ll be with you in a moment.”
    Since I wasn’t dressed, I wasn’t going anywhere. I gulped down the last of the champagne and waited, biting my lower lip.
    Eventually the woman returned. With a whole rolling rack of clothes. Too many for me to even look at all at once. I saw jewel tones in many different fabrics and lengths and that’s all I could get before she wheeled it behind me.
    “Your friend told me this is your first time here. Please ask if you have any questions.” She was picking through the hangers and then stopped, pulling out a scrap of silk. “Here, put this on over your bra and panties.”
    I took it and held it up. It was a slip made of lace and silk so soft I could barely keep it from falling out of my hands. I turned my back on the woman and dropped the robe, sliding the slip on over my head quickly. It fell perfectly, hugging every curve of my body like it had been made for me.
    “Wow,” I said, turning back to look in the mirror.
    The woman smiled. “We are just getting started. My name is Rose, by the way.”
    “Amanda.”
    She smiled and shook my hand. “Ready to have some fun, Amanda?”
    I nodded. And I don’t know if it was the champagne, the fancy clothes or something else, but I really meant it.
    The first thing I tried on was a long black dress made of a strange fabric. It was soft and clingy, but with shiny threads throughout that caught the light in a really amazing way. But once I had it on, I thought I looked