Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (best classic books .TXT) 📗

beaded bodice. But the skirt was the showstopper. Made of dark red taffeta that shaded to black, the skirt was swirled to look like an enormous bouquet of velvety roses. If Helen ever won an Oscar, she'd went to wear that dress onstage.

``I'd like to wear that to my daughter's wedding,'' Kiki said.

``That's not a mother-of-the-bride dress,'' Millicent said.

``I am not going to wear some pathetic little powder-blue dress,'' Kiki said.

``I don't sell pathetic little dresses,'' Millicent said. ``But my customers leave here properly dressed for special occasions.''

``I'll decide what's proper. You!'' Kiki pointed at Helen. ``Take the orse dress to fitting room A.''

She picked the largest room, naturally. Helen looked at Millicent for approval, who gave her a slight nod.

``Oh, yes,'' Kiki said. ``We should get something for my daughter, too.'' The bridge was an afterthought at her own wedding.

``And when is the wedding?'' Millicent said.

``Saturday,'' Kiki said.

``June, July, or August?''

``This coming Saturday, December fourth,'' Kiki said.

Millicent looked stunned. ``Impossible. Three months is a rush job. We can't order the dresses in time for a wedding in a few days.''

``Then we'll buy something in stock. And you'll have to alter it here. Money is no object.''

Millicent's eyes narrowed. ``You'd better tell me what happened, and why you're coming to me so late. I won't help you until I know the whole story.''

``It's that bitch at Haute Bridal. I saw what she got in for the wedding and canceled everything. The fabrics looked cheap. The colors were horrible. Nothing was as she promised.''

``But bridal sales are final,'' Helen said.

Kiki laughed. ``My ex-husband is a lawyer. Nothing is final.''

``It is at this store,'' Millicent said. ``Do what I say, and I'll make you look like every one of your thirty million dollars.'' 164 Excerpt from Just Murdered

Millicent was pointing a red talon at Kiki, punching each word for emphasis. Helen thought the bloodred nails were the mark of Millicent's success. She'd clawed her way up to the chicest shop on Las Olas with only a small divorce settlement and one major talent: She had a gift for making women look good.

Millicent knew how to emphasize their good points and downplay their figure flaws. She was her own best example. Her hair had turned snowy white years ago. Millicent had the courage to leave it that dramatic color. It made her look younger than most of the highlighted salon jobs in her shop. An unface-lifted fifty, Millicent looked forty. Colorful tops drew attention to her remarkable chest, held high by a cantilevered bra. Dark pants minimized generous hips. But she couldn't hide her clever, appraising eyes.

Kiki shrugged like a spoiled child. ``Millie, darling, help me into the rose gown.''

Kiki stepped out of her pink dress and revealed an even pinker body. Her blond pubic hair was sculpted into a dol- lar sign.

Helen gaped.

``Any man who gets me hits the jackpot,'' Kiki said, and winked.

It took Helen and Millicent both to wrestle her into the rose dress. The skirt had four layers, including the only hoop Helen had seen since Gone with the Wind. Helen had to admit that the outrageous gown fit Kiki. She had the carriage and the attitude to wear a skirt the size of an SUV.

``I have to have it,'' Kiki said.

``So buy it,'' Millicent said. ``But don't upstage your daughter at her own wedding.''

``No one can upstage the bride,'' Kiki said. ``I'll take the dress.''

``Only if you promise to buy another dress for the church service,'' Millicent said. ``You cannot wear a ball gown to a daytime wedding, Kiki. You'll look like a joke.''

Those words got through to Kiki. She settled on a sleek black knit for the church and a gauzy gold gown suitable for a minor goddess for the rehearsal dinner. She insisted on putting the rose dress back on.

Finally, Kiki remembered her daughter. Desiree stood Excerpt from Just Murdered 165 silently in the corner like Cinderella. Helen didn't know whether to offer her a chair or some ashes by the fireplace.

``I want a wedding dress with a full skirt and a cathedral- length train,'' Kiki said.

``That's a ten-foot train,'' Millicent said. ``A petite bride like Desiree will be swallowed by all that fabric.''

``Not if she stands up straight.'' Kiki's French-manicured nail poked her daughter between her slumping shoulder blades.

``I want something expensive,'' Kiki said. ``I want snow white, not that off-white color. It looks like dirty teeth.''

Desiree stood there, mute.

``What do you want, Desiree?'' Millicent asked. ``It's your wedding.''

``It makes no difference. I won't get it.'' Desiree's little voice was drowned in disappointment.

What was Millicent doing? Helen wondered. She was too smart to get between warring mothers and daughters. Did she forget that Kiki was paying?

Desiree tried on a simple white strapless gown. Her mother said, ``Oh, Desiree. You're only twenty years old and I can see you as a nun.''

``And I see you as an old tart.'' That soft voice. Those hunched shoulders. That meek expression. Yet she'd in- sulted her mother with acid-stinging accuracy.

For five hours, Desiree tried on dresses while her mother stabbed her with stiletto slashes. Desiree seemed sad and beaten. Only later did Helen realize the meek young woman had fought back with feline ferocity.

Helen did know one thing: She was worn out from being in the same room with that rage. Hauling the heavy wed- ding dresses didn't help. They were encrusted with scratchy crystal beading and itchy lace. Many weighed twenty pounds or more. Helen had to hold the hangers over her head to keep the long skirts off the floor. Her arms ached, and her neck and shoulders screamed for relief.

When she ran for yet another dress, she saw the chauf- feur, Rod, sweating in the shimmering sun. It wasn't fair to keep