Point Us to Paris. Aimee Duffy

they were already carrying, but they did a better job than she could have.

      ‘I hate you for this! Both of you!’ she hissed, closing her eyes to make it hurt less. If she saw any of the dresses, the accessories, she’d be saying ‘bye, bye’ to the rest of her money.

      ‘You’re going to love me soon,’ Elle said, not even out of bloody breath!

      ‘What, when I’m penniless and on the next flight to Dublin? I doubt it.’

      A woman’s voice asked in French if they needed assistance, but her lessons from high school failed her as she couldn’t remember how to say ‘yes, call the feckin’ guards.’

      Elle answered in fluent French, making Ciara hate her even more. Then she was being dragged again and in a bid to end this madness, she planted her feet and refused to budge.

      She should have known that wouldn’t stop Elle.

      ‘Drop the bags. We’ll pick this cry baby up and carry her to the changing rooms,’ Elle said to Gem.

      As her feet left the ground she did the most stupid thing ever and opened her eyes.

      They were in a rectangular room, all grays and white but that wasn’t what drew her attention. It was the minimalistic clothes hung on rails in the indentation from the walls. Dark, plain, simple and oh so pretty.

      Little black jackets hung next to the matching white blouses and leather skinny jeans. The next alcove had sleek, knee length skirts and a blouse with a daring strip of red below the bust. But the loveliest, most elegant black dress draped over a mannequin with so much effortless grace stole all her attention. Her anger evaporated and she sagged against Elle, needing the support.

      ‘Think we’ve found a winner,’ Gem said, lowering her friend back to the floor.

      Such a bittersweet feeling, seeing something she wanted so much and knowing she could never ever have it for real. She’d been having that feeling a lot lately.

      Elle started up again with the French, so fast she didn’t understand and then they both dragged her away from the dress. The swell of disappointment made her too weak to fight back, and she stared at the prettiest thing in the world until it was out of sight, just to make sure it was ingrained in her memory.

      Gem shoved her into the dressing room and she sagged onto the sofa, feeling even more miserable than she had an hour ago.

      ‘You’re going to make me strip you too, aren’t you?’ Gem said, then without much of a pause got to work on doing just that. ‘Just so you know, this isn’t gay in the slightest.’

      Ciara didn’t care what it was as she let her so called friend strip her top off then her jeans.

      ‘This has to go too, sorry.’ Gem unclipped her bra and pulled it off her arms. ‘You do have a nice pair, but not nice enough to turn me off the dicks for good.’

      She knew Gem was trying to make her laugh, but her eyes watered instead. God, it was like she was grieving. For Zack first and now for the prettiest dress in the world.

      The curtain parted to show Elle with a hand full of hangers. ‘Shit, Gem. I didn’t tell you to molest her.’

      ‘I didn’t, I just got her ready. Do you have it?’ Gem asked.

      Ciara couldn’t care less what they were talking about. She knew it would only mean more torture. At least there weren’t mirrors here. She could look at the panel without seeing her despair or catching a glimpse of them.

      ‘This is ridiculous, Ciara. You should be excited, not acting like someone died,’ Elle said. She thrust something at Gem, then pulled Ciara onto her feet. ‘Don’t make me slap you. I will.’

      Like she cared either way.

      ‘This is totally unnecessary,’ Elle huffed, but then turned her around. ‘Hold up your arms.’

      They weren’t going to leave her alone until they’d had her way, then she could go back to the massive house and lock herself in her room until they were ready to leave this horrible city.

      Ciara lifted her arms and closed her eyes. Satin fabric fell down over her body effortlessly, with nothing but a thick strap over one of her shoulders. She wouldn’t open her eyes and look, this was bad enough. The soft dress skimmed her curves, all the way down to her knees making her tingle and yearn.

      She was turned around again and pushed forward a few steps.

      ‘This is the one,’ Elle said.

      ‘I’ll say. Wow, Ciara. You look like a model,’ Gem gushed.

      Ciara didn’t dare look. She couldn’t trust herself to hold it together if she got a flash of reflection. Her imagination was already running riot.

      ‘You know, I’m trying to do something nice for you and here you are, being an ungrateful bitch.’

      Ciara did lose it then, but not in the way she’d feared. As soon as Elle had spoken, anger flared through her, burning away all the hurt and she did open her eyes, but the image of her in the prettiest dress in the world didn’t soothe her.

      She whirled on Elle. ‘How is this nice? You know I can’t afford Givenchy but you dragged me in here anyway, torturing me with more things I can’t have! As if leaving Miami wasn’t bad enough, now you want to show me how fucking amazing I look in this dress, knowing I’m going to have to walk out of here without it? You’re the bitch, Elle.’

      Elle’s eyes widened and got a little watery. ‘I’d never do that to you, Ciara. The dress is yours and you can walk out of here with it. It’s already paid for.’

      Her anger only cranked higher as she returned to the dressing room, pulled the satin off without missing a beat then got dressed in record time. When she got back, Elle and Gem’s worried expressions made her bite her tongue against the angry torrent she wanted to scream at them.

      Instead she headed for the exit.

      ‘Where are you going?’ Gem asked. ‘Cia, don’t do this.’

      ‘If either of you knew me at all, you’d know how much I hate being a charity case and would never have done this. Some friends you are.’

      Gem called out again but Ciara kept walking until she hit the streets, then broke into a light jog as tears welled in her eyes. Her gut wrenched until she had to slow down, the sick feeling lying heavy in her stomach. It was guilt, she knew she’d overreacted but not enough to go back and accept their charity.

      Instead she walked aimlessly through the city, not noticing much at all about the beauty of the place she was in. Her mind went back to her eighth birthday, when the headmaster called a meeting with her father and she’d tagged along. He’d thrown out words like genius, and good university and ever since that day her da had worked double shifts, weekends too, just to make sure she could have the best education money could buy. Money they didn’t really have, but that her college friends had in spades.

      She knew it was different, but the principal was still the same. She’d barely earned enough in her life to begin paying anyone back. Maybe if she had a plan for the future, she wouldn’t have half of the stupid pride she did. But this was real life and she was who she was.

      ***

      Hours might have passed, Ciara wasn’t really tracking. She’d walked through most of the city and was now at a park with the clichéd couples on benches, tourists with their cameras enjoying the afternoon sun and kids running around with Viva La France footballs.

      She wasn’t tracking the world cup either, but most of the tourists seemed to be and had dressed for the occasion with footie shirts galore. Finding an empty spot shaded by a massive oak tree she sat down and decided it was time to snap out of this funk.

      After all, Elle and Gem had only been trying to cheer her up and the guilt had shifted to shame, so much so that each time her phone vibrated she couldn’t