Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,26

the last time she’d worn it was ages ago, back when it probably fit. That was probably for the best, all things considered. The other two dresses were black and not exactly to her taste, so she shimmied into the gold dress and zipped up the back. Tinkerbelle had also laid tights out for her. Unlike the stringy beat-up tights Tinkerbelle was wearing, these were so new they still had the cardboard inside. They were also fleece-lined and warm. Wendy looked at the back of Tinkerbelle’s head and thought about her long white arms gripping both sides of the train car, leaning back into the night so Wendy would feel secure as she crossed. She thought about Tinkerbelle pulling warm new tights out for someone that she just met.

She had never in her life known a girl like this.

“Hey,” Wendy said when she’d finished dressing.

Tinkerbelle looked up. She pursed her lips and then shrugged one shoulder. “I liked that dress when it fit me. It looks good on you,” she said brusquely. “When you go home, you don’t have to worry about returning it.”

“I don’t think I would even have anywhere to wear this, after tonight,” Wendy said, looking down at the clingy fabric.

Tinkerbelle snorted rudely. “Probably not. But it works well on you, just the same. Now, do you want anything done with your hair and makeup, or are you just leaving it like … that?”

Tinkerbelle didn’t even have much hair, so Wendy wasn’t confident in her skills regarding that at all. At least with the clothes, she could tell Tinkerbelle had a higher than average understanding of coordination.

“My hair is fine,” Wendy said firmly. “And I don’t wear makeup.”

Tinkerbelle cocked her head to the side and considered Wendy’s face. “You don’t need it, either. But you might like to look less like yourself tonight,” she said quietly. “Trust me on that.”

Wendy realized that she’d been having a feeling off and on all night that she couldn’t quite name, but was growing in urgency. It was like a brush of regular anxiety combined with the sort of thrill you get when something incredibly dangerous is about to happen. She’d felt a whisper of it in the alley, but she’d brushed it off as nerves from sneaking out. She’d felt it on the train platform, though it had gone nearly as quickly as it came. She’d also felt it the moment before Peter had held her in the kitchen, but the warmth of his body had chased it away. But all of those instances were spaced out. Now, Wendy had felt it twice in the five minutes she’d been alone in this room with Tinkerbelle, and that was significant.

Tinkerbelle had already said that Wendy wouldn’t want to know what the source of that thrill was. Tinkerbelle also didn’t seem like the type of person to rescind things she had already made a decision about, so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to demand clarity on the situation.

Wendy looked down at her tights, then back up to Tinkerbelle’s determined little face. Whether or not this person valued her or liked her was immaterial. Tinkerbelle had cared about her safety in a way that was important: If she wasn’t allowed to know what was going on, perhaps Wendy could leverage the needs of the one person who wanted her to get home as much as she did.

“No one in this room is stupid,” Wendy echoed Tinkerbelle’s words from earlier. “So, I’d like to make you an offer and ask you some questions that I think you can answer without creating problems.”

Tinkerbelle tilted her chin up in defiance. The ghost of a smile was back on her face.

“Something is happening tonight, and it’s something that I am not supposed to be involved in,” Wendy said. “You know what it is, and I don’t, and … it is in both of our best interests to maintain that balance of information … correct?”

Tinkerbelle’s expression didn’t waver.

“But,” Wendy continued, drawing on the negotiation skills from every police procedural she’d ever seen in her life, “if I’m not provided with good information that will allow me to make reasonable decisions, my actions—or inactions—might have negative consequences for both of us. Correct?”

Tinkerbelle’s eyes sparkled.

“So it would benefit the both of us if I consider your suggestions a roadmap of how to eventually remove myself from what will be happening tonight,” Wendy said tentatively. “And, in return, it would help if you don’t do things that make me question