Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Mission: Midwest ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

 

Schu put a hand to his aching head and tightened the belt on the robe he was wearing to putter around the house. It had been a long night, trying to figure out just how they were supposed to get an invitation to the very exclusive local party on such short notice. Their target was bound to be there as he was the one throwing the party. Upper middle class haute society wanna bes, as Crawford had proclaimed them. Schu supposed he could nudge the right people into giving them an invitation, providing they could figure out who the right people were. He sighed when he recognized Mary Crane's silhouette hovering by the front door.

 

“Mary! What do I owe this unexpected pleasure,” he said, trying to avoid gagging on the last word.

 

“I just came by to check on little Jay. Yesterday was so terrible for the babies and Lillian.”

 

“How is Lillian, by the way? Such a terrible thing to lose her husband that way. As for Jay, Brad dropped him off at daycare when he went to work this morning,” he stood back and let her in the house.

 

“She's holding up as best she can, poor thing. Well, Jay being at daycare suits the other thing I wanted to talk to you about even better.”

 

“What's that?”

 

“I presume you know about the Andersen's cocktail party. They hold it every year about this time.”

 

“Yes. I've heard it's quite the event,” he said, leading her into the kitchen. “Sit. I'll make coffee.”

 

“Thank you. You're such a darling.”

 

Gag! “Cream and sugar?” Arsenic? Cyanaide?

 

“Both, please. What I came to talk to you about is that, well, you know very few people can get into it on such short notice.”

 

“I'd heard that too,” he said, pouring her coffee and adding five spoons of sugar and about a quarter cup of milk to it before handing her the cup. “I wish I could go,” he said wistfully. “We used to go to cocktail parties and dinners all the time. But Brad's so busy and with Jay now we hardly have time to get out with other adults.”

 

“Well, what would you say if I told you I'd managed to wrangle you an invitation?” Mary said, smiling smugly.

 

“Really?!”

 

Mary rummaged around in her handbag for a moment and pulled out a vellum and gold envelope. Sliding it across the table, her smile widened. Schuldig picked it up carefully, reading the embossed gold lettering on the envelope before breaking the seal. Sure enough, it was an invitation to Milan and Cecile Andersen's cocktail party in three weeks. He held the invitation to his chest.

 

“Oh, Mary. Thank you!” For making my job a hell of a lot easier.

 

“Well, now that's done, onto the important stuff. Finding you a dress.”

 

Schuldig stared at her. “Dress?”

 

“For the party, silly,” she said. “You have to have a new dress.”

 

“There is that. Do you have any suggestions for shopping in the area? I know Brad would prefer Armani, since those are the only suits he wears and he likes for us to match on nights out.”

 

“I think I have just the place. Go get dressed and I'll call Carol and the other new girl in the neighborhood, Aya. I'm sure you'll love her, she's a doll like you are. Even has red hair as well.”

 

“Oh, that would be nice,” Schu said, starting for the stairs. Aya? That was a name that sounded familiar. With red hair. Nah, couldn't be.

 

He came down a few minutes later, makeup in place, hose and heels perfect. As though anything less than stunning would do anyway.

 

“I called the girls. Carol is meeting us there but Aya said she was too busy setting things to rights in the new house. You know how that goes, having just moved in yourself, but she said she'd come along the next time.”

 

Schuldig found himself dragged out the door a few moments later and all but shoved into Mrs. Crane's grocery getter. The zipped through traffic and he was forcibly reminded of traveling the Autobahn. Gods knew it couldn't possibly be any scarier than her driving as they tailed other vehicles, then jetting in and out of spots along the way. To concentrate on something other than the motion sickness, he tagged Crawford.

 

Oh fearless leader.

 

Gods, now what?

 

We have an invitation to the Andersen's par-tay in three weeks.

 

How the hell did you manage that?

 

I didn't. The ever nosy Mary Crane hand delivered the invite herself not a half an hour ago.

 

Damn. I might have to let her live for that. I was looking forward to shooting her.

 

Not if I get to her first. You haven't had to listen to her prattle incessantly for the past few weeks.

 

Touché. Where are you anyway?

 

If I were home I'd swear it was the Autobahn. As it is, I think we're on 170 heading into town. She's insisting we go shopping for a dress for the party.

 

Schuldig!

 

But it would look suspicious if I don't go.

 

Fine. Just don't max out the credit card.

 

They jolted to a stop, nearly flinging him headfirst into the dashboard. Mary put on the parking brake and literally bounced out of the car. “You'll love this place. They sell every designer imaginable.”

 

Schuldig smiled a little, looking at the sign over the little boutique entrance that said Schwarzhaus. “I'm sure I will, Mary. I'm sure I will.”

 

***

This was kind of fun, he thought an hour later, if not exhausting. He could completely understand why women enjoyed clothes, especially designer ones. Cut well, made from wonderful fabrics, completely sensually appealing. Maybe he'd dress as a female more often after this was over. It seemed a shame to waste all the clothes he'd bought, he thought as he stepped out of the dressing room.

 

A loud squeal from every female present startled him somewhat.

 

“Oh, Sasha, that's perfect!” Carol said.

 

“You look like a supermodel. Only not as anorexic,” Mary beamed.

 

“It is nice, isn't it,” Schuldig said, turning one way then the other to get the full effect in the mirrors set around him. The dress was royal blue silk, cut to show off one shoulder with silver thread crossing the waist to accent it. The skirt was full and swirled around Schuldig's legs as he moved. Yes, he could see why women enjoyed clothes like this.

 

“You really do look gorgeous in it,” Carol said with a twinge of envy in her voice.

 

Helga, the plump little owner of the shop, laughed and said, “Of course she's gorgeous. She's German.”