Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)(64)
Mary lifted out the two scraps of material, her breathing slowing as she noted their state. Both were ruined, and it wasn’t just because they were so caked with dry blood as well as a more oily substance. It looked like they’d both been cut off of her. She let them drop back into the garbage bin, and rushed into the bathroom to wash her hands, not liking the oily feel to them.
Drying her hands quickly, Mary grabbed the hangers from the doorknob and then closed the door and quickly pulled on the clothes. The first thing she noticed was that they were both now quite large on her. The shorts were at least four or five sizes too big. Although she automatically unsnapped and unzipped them to put them on, she didn’t have to. Mary figured that out when she did them up and then reached for the hanger holding the T-shirt and her shorts dropped to pool around her feet on the floor.
Muttering under her breath, she left the shorts where they were for the moment and pulled on the T-shirt. While it had been almost clingy before her turn, it was now quite blousy on her. Shrugging, Mary pulled the shorts back up and tucked the shirt in, hoping the extra bulk would help keep them up. It wasn’t enough, however.
Holding them up herself, Mary went back out to the bedroom and considered her options. She already knew there was nothing in the closet to use as a belt. That left the room at large. The only thing in there that she might have used was the drawstring from the curtains. She even actually considered that, but it was vandalism, or theft or something, so she let that idea go.
Mary glanced toward the closet, considering using one of Dante’s T-shirts, but then her gaze dropped to her own T-shirt instead. It was longer than she needed, if she cut the bottom couple of inches off . . .
Raising her head, she glanced around until her gaze settled on Dante’s jeans lying in a puddle on the floor by the bed. A lot of men carried pocketknives. Did he? A quick search of his pockets proved that no he didn’t, or at least he didn’t have one in them now.
Grimacing, Mary straightened and scowled as she looked around the room, and then recalled the razor in the bathroom.
It would do, she decided and slipped back into bathroom again. Mary ended up having to break the razor blade casing to get the actual blades out, but decided she would explain to Dante and replace it first thing. Even before she found food. There must be a drugstore somewhere nearby. Or maybe they’d have razor blades in the hotel store. They often carried necessities like that in those places, she thought as she took off the T-shirt and began to slice the bottom couple of inches off of it.
Mary’s next thought was that she hadn’t seen her purse anywhere in the room when she’d been searching for things. Which probably meant it had gone up in flames with the RV. Good God, she had no money! She was completely dependent on Dante!
Just like he’d been dependent on her at first, she realized. Only she at least had clothes, even if they were too big and had several slits and tears from the accident.
Sighing, Mary finished slicing off the material she needed, then pulled the T-shirt back on and tucked the bottom of it into her waist again. She then strung the strip of T-shirt she’d cut off through the belt loops of her baby blue shorts and tied it up in front. It wasn’t pretty, she decided as she checked out her handiwork in the mirror, but it would have to do for now.
Shrugging, Mary turned and slid back into the bedroom, then simply stood there, unsure what to do next. If her purse had been there she would have simply slipped out, found a store or restaurant and bought herself something to eat. However, her purse wasn’t there.
It was an odd feeling being without it. Mary had been carrying a purse since she was a teenager. She’d never thought about it much, but now realized that the leather bag was freedom of a sort. So long as she’d had her purse, she’d had pretty much anything she might need in an emergency; money, credit cards, keys, usually a couple of bandages, a lipstick, a tiny deodorant stick, perfume, often allergy pills and aspirin, a little packet of Kleenex, sunglasses, reading glasses, her phone, Handi Wipes, safety pins, a tiny emergency sewing kit, and a brush and compact.
Mary could have used several of those items right then, like the deodorant and perfume. Certainly the sewing kit and safety pins might have saved Dante’s razor. If she hadn’t been able to just pin the shorts so that the waistline was smaller and stayed up without a belt, the sewing kit had tiny scissors in it she could have used to cut her T-shirt.
Man, she’d never really considered how much she depended on her purse. Until now, when she didn’t have it, Mary thought grimly and then simply went over and sat on one of the chairs at the table. Her gaze slid to Dante, but he was sleeping soundly and she didn’t want to wake him. She glanced to his jeans, but while she might have used a pocketknife while he was sleeping and then returned it to his pocket, she was not taking his money. Even though she would have returned it the first chance she got, taking it without permission just seemed wrong to her.
Sighing, Mary raised her hands and peered at them silently, then spread them to the side so she could see her legs. It was a new and pretty body, and exactly what she’d often fantasized about having, but really, it didn’t feel comfortable to her yet. She was used to having more bulk and taking up more space; now she felt kind of scrawny.
The thought made her smile faintly. Mary had always bemoaned her figure for being too voluptuous and wished she was smaller. Now that she was, however, she felt like a foreigner in her own body . . . and wasn’t at all sure she liked it. Perhaps that’s why her diets had always failed and she’d never seemed to be able to get down to that more desirable weight the world seemed to insist on. Maybe she’d actually felt more comfortable being larger.