“No.”
“I haven’t decided which of these I want,” she said, “but go ahead and get started. I need you to tell me the regular price, the sale price, the percentage of the discount, how much that equals in real money, then give me a total of everything after each item. Then I’ll tell you what I want. Okay?”
I looked at the mound of clothing and my line that now stretched down the aisle and out of sight.
Maybe going to prison wouldn’t be so bad after all.
When the crowd died down, Rita released me from my cashiering bondage and sent me back to the accessories department. I went to the break room instead. We were still operating on the work schedule that Richard had set before he died and I wasn’t supposed to have a break. But screw it. My feet hurt.
Sandy was there, munching on chips and flipping through a magazine. I headed for the vending machine. Chocolate overdose—here I come.
Then I saw that girl who’d lost twenty-five pounds eating what looked like a chuck of Styrofoam. Damn. My new lifestyle. Now I really hate her. I got a bag of trail mix from the vending machine, sat down with Sandy, and put my feet up.
“Have you heard what the Christmas merchandise will be this year?” she asked, nodding toward the wall.
I glanced over and saw a big calendar counting down the days until the surprise merchandise would be announced. Every year Holt’s brought in a line of merchandise during the Christmas shopping season that they didn’t usually carry, and offered it at a discount.
“Last year it was that new game system everybody wanted,” Sandy said. “We sold tons of them. Craig carried them in ILA. He was pretty cool about it. He held some of them back and let some of us buy one. Store management got as many as they wanted, of course. Jeanette got three, I heard. I sold mine on eBay.”
That reminded me of my last conversation with Marcie. She’d promised to think up a way for me to make extra money. Maybe she’d come up with something. I needed to give her a call.
“I hope it will be something cool this year,” Sandy said, finishing her chips. “Can you find me another outfit tonight?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, remembering her movie date with Coupon Boy last night. “How’d it go?”
“It was okay,” she said, rising from her chair. “We saw that Rocky movie.”
I frowned. “At the dollar theater? He couldn’t spring for a first-run movie?”
“I paid,” she said. “We got there and were in line and he said he didn’t have any cash, so I gave him a twenty. Then he said he’d be embarrassed if I paid, so he bought the tickets.”
“Let me guess. He kept the change.”
“He bought me a popcorn,” Sandy said.
“Dump his sorry ass,” I told her.
She shrugged. “My old boyfriend called. He wants me to come over tonight.”
“The tat guy?” I asked. “The one who said you had no soul?”
“He said what was really in his heart. Most people don’t do that. Can you help me find an outfit for tonight?”
“Sure.”
“I’m in Shoes,” Sandy said, and left the break room.
I’ve got to get out of this place.
Kirk Keegan popped into my head. I got my phone from my locker to call him, and saw that I had a message. From Kirk.
Yes!
My heart raced as I punched in the code and waited. Kirk had called. My irregularities-investigation-pending nightmare was over. I could come back to work—tomorrow, probably.
Oh my God. What should I wear? Something fabulous. But not so fabulous that it distracted from my I’m-friends-with-Drew-and-you’re-not Notorious bag. Something—
Kirk’s voice came on the line. He sounded rushed, a little hard to hear with the traffic noise in the background.
“I told you not to come to the office. It makes you look desperate and guilty. Complicates things. I’m handling it. I’ll call you.”
He hung up.
I stood there for another minute with a death grip on my phone, then put it away and slumped into a chair again. Styrofoam girl was gone. I was alone.
Maybe Kirk was right. Going to the office made me look desperate—but not guilty. And what was I supposed to do, sit around and twiddle my thumbs, waiting?
I had to get my job back. Tomorrow was Friday. One whole week without my Pike Warner paycheck. I needed that job. For more reasons than one.
The money, sure. The Louis Vuitton organizer. My credit card balances and that overdraft the bank was making such a huge deal about.
But wouldn’t returning to work prove to Detective Madison that, since I’d done nothing wrong, there was nothing to connect me to Richard’s murder?
Although, maybe he’d already decided that. At lunch, Ty had said the detectives were looking at Richard’s involvement with his neighbor’s wife as a motive for his murder. Maybe they’d forgotten all about me.
I’d have to find out.
The break room door opened and Evelyn rushed in, looking wild-eyed.
“Oh, Haley, there you are.” She plastered her hands against her chest. “I’ve been searching all over for you.”
I just looked at her.
“You’re supposed to be on the floor,” she said. “Craig is having a fit.”
I hate my life.
“Craig is very tense right now,” Evelyn explained. “He’s in charge of the special Christmas merchandise again this year and, well, he doesn’t want…problems…again.”
“There were problems?” I asked. Imagine that, the hottest game system in the world, and problems arose?
Evelyn twisted her fingers together. “Well, yes…yes, there were problems. You see, some—several, really…well, quite a few, actually—of the game systems were shoplifted.”
“How many is ‘quite a few’?” I asked.
“Enough to make Craig very intense about this year’s merchandise,” Evelyn insisted.
“And me going out on the floor to straighten the socks is going to make everything better for Craig?” I asked.
“Yes, it will,” Evelyn said, without seeming to realize how ridiculous it sounded.
“Whatever.” I got up from the table and tossed my unopened bag of trail mix into the trash can.
“Things are very difficult for Craig,” Evelyn went on. Okay, so maybe she did know how ridiculous she sounded and thought I needed more motivation to get out there and straighten the socks.
“His wife…well, his wife has cancer and the whole family has been struggling with it for a very long time now,” Evelyn said, as she walked with me to the sock department. I guess she wanted to make sure I actually went there. “It’s tragic, really. You can’t help but feel sorry for them…no matter…what.”
Evelyn looked as if she did, in fact, feel sorry for them, and I did too, of course. But it still didn’t make straightening the socks the highlight of my life.
“The store owner asked about you,” Evelyn said.
“Ty?” My heart did a little flip-flop. “What did he want to know?”
She smiled, as if this bit of news would somehow make up for her running me out of the break room.
“He asked if I knew anything about you…personally. If you had close friends here at the store, if you were dating anyone, who your family was. That sort of thing.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth, of course,” Evelyn said.
She hurried away and I dropped to my knees between the sock racks. Ty had asked about me? Why?
I guess he might be curious, after seeing me today. I mean, he must have assumed that when I said I was at Pike Warner regarding my mother’s business I was telling the truth. After all, I had on a Chanel suit, so I looked as if I belonged there. He probably thought that I actually knew who Ted and Gerald were. You don’t do business with Pike Warner in a Chanel suit if you don’t have money.
Which would have led Ty to wonder why I was working at Holt’s for seven bucks an hour.
Maybe that made him cur
ious about me. Maybe he was enthralled with a person who wore Chanel by day, yet worked retail by night. To him, perhaps I was a woman of mystery, and he wanted to find out more, more, more.
Maybe he wanted to ask me out.
My stomach twisted into its something-thrilling-just-happened knot.
Oh my God. That would be great. No, it would be beyond great. Greater than great. Really, I’d had a little thing for Ty since the first time I saw him. So to date him would be just awesome.
I stared at the display of black socks, letting the scenario build in my mind.
Where would he ask me out? Here in the store? Probably. I mean, when else would he see me? Yes, he’d have to make his move here. Maybe I’d be working in Shoes, by those cool new boots we just got in. Or, better yet, in the lingerie section by the thongs and lacy high-cut bikinis. That would set a great mood. I’d accept his invitation, of course, but first I’d pause for a moment, so as not to look too anxious; then I’d say yes—no, first I’d toss my hair over my shoulder (I’d have to remember to wear it down from now on)—then I’d say yes. We’d have to keep our relationship quiet around the store, of course, so as not to cause a stir—oh my God, I can’t wait until Rita finds out.
I love my life.
CHAPTER 11
For some unknown reason, Richard had not scheduled me to work tonight. I don’t know how that happened, but since my week had been pretty crappy, with the exception of learning from Evelyn that Ty had asked about me, I decided not to question it, especially since it was Friday night and I wanted to go out.
Maybe that meant my fortunes were improving.
I was meeting Marcie in Old Pasadena, a section of the city filled with all the best shops, really cool restaurants and pubs, awesome apartment buildings, as well as art galleries and theaters for anyone who can stay awake in those places. The sidewalks were always jammed with pedestrians, making it a terrific place to see and be seen.
I was running a little late—one of the times I wish I had lesbian hair so I could just spike it and go—but I’d pulled together a really great outfit. Boots, gauchos, a crop jacket and bulky scarf, all in blacks and grays, then added a big splash of color with my purple, oversize Kate Spade tote.
I left my apartment and headed for the garage where my car was parked, feeling pretty good about things. Ty might ask me out. Kirk had called and, though his message was a little terse, he’d assured me everything was being handled at Pike Warner. Tonight I was hanging out with my best friend, in one of the most upscale areas of Los Angeles. And—best of all—I didn’t have to work at Holt’s.
Feeling optimistic, I decided to check my mailbox. I hadn’t done that in a few days, but since I’d already gotten all my credit card statements this week, and the bank had sent its weekly overdraft notice—as if I could forget—I decided that nothing lurking in the box could upset me.
I pulled out the usual stuff, catalogs—ooh, Victoria’s Secret—ads for dentists’ offices, sheets of coupons for places I never heard of, and spotted an envelope from the Golden State Bank and Trust. Wow. The GSB&T. They’d been in business for a hundred years, or something, a very old, very prestigious banking firm. Why were they contacting me?
I stood next to the wall of mailboxes under the dim security lighting, debating whether to open it. Had my own bank alerted other banks to my overdraft? Had they all joined forces against me?
Since I’m not big on suspense, I opened the envelope and saw that—wow, this was cool—the Golden State Bank and Trust had reserved a credit card in my name. Preapproved. With a ten-thousand-dollar credit limit. Jeez, was this for real?
I checked the name and address on the envelope and saw that, yes, the offer was intended for me. I read the material once more, thinking it must be some kind of scam, but everything looked legit.
A firm like GSB&T didn’t toss out credit cards, like some banks did. They had a reputation for carefully selecting their clientele, using exacting standards known only to them, and under which I was sure I didn’t measure up to. So I figured it must have something to do with my mom. If anything were prestigious, my mom had to be a part of it, so she’d probably given them my info, thinking a GSB&T credit card would elevate my standing in life, somehow.
Then my heart started to beat a little faster. Ten grand? Preapproved? See, my luck had changed. And that made me think of—oh my God. What if I saw Ty in Pasadena? It was just the sort of place someone like him would hang out. What if he asked me out tonight? And what about Kirk? He’d hang out in Pasadena too.
I found a pen in my tote, signed the offer, shoved it into the self-addressed, postage-paid envelope, and pushed it through the outgoing mail slot.
Things were happening for me now. Any minute, my phone could ring and it could be Kirk telling me to report to work at Pike Warner on Monday morning—where Mrs. Drexler would apologize profusely and tell me she’d given me a raise—and that call would be followed by one from Detective Madison, who’d apologize just as profusely for wrongly suspecting me of Richard’s murder, and tell me the case had been solved.
I let that little fantasy play out in my mind—along with the image of Rita being led away from Holt’s in handcuffs—and felt my spirits lift. Yep, I was on a roll now. Everything was turning around. I’d get my old life back.
Perfect.
Marcie was inside the Gap on Old Pasadena’s way-cool Colorado Boulevard, holding up two sweaters, when I walked in. We hugged and she asked me which I liked best.
“Get them both,” I told her. “In fact, I’ll get a couple too.”
Marcie gave me that little frown of hers. “Did you get your old job back?”
“Not yet,” I said, as I sorted through the sweaters on the display table. Why don’t stores stack these things by size?
“I’ve been thinking about ways for you to make extra money,” Marcie said. “The Internet’s the way to go.”
“I’m not doing porn.”
“I meant selling things on eBay.”
I paused with three sweaters draped over my arm. “You mean, like my clothes?”
“No, just stuff,” she said. “You know, buy things cheap, then sell them. You can probably get lots of good deals on things at Holt’s.”
I jumped as if I’d been zapped with a cattle prod. “You want me to buy things, from Holt’s, and bring them into my home? What sort of friend are you?”
“The sort that doesn’t want you to go hungry,” she said.
Okay, I couldn’t argue with that. I could see that her heart was in the right place.
“Well, if I get desperate enough, I’ll think about it,” I told her. “But I don’t think it will come to that. Kirk called. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Is that what he said?” Marcie asked. “Exactly?”
“I know you don’t like Kirk, but he’s really sharp and he knows absolutely everything that goes on at Pike Warner,” I said.
“I like Kirk just fine,” Marcie said. “I don’t trust him.”
“I know,” I told her. “But I’ve had a crappy week. I don’t want to think about problems right now, okay?”
“Just promise me you’ll be cautious of him,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever,” I said
We paid for our sweaters and left the store. The night air was crisp, perfect for being outside. Lots of well-dressed people were there, store display windows were lit up, and delicious smells drifted from the restaurants. We decided to have dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. It was packed, as always, so we put our names on the list and went outside to wait, along with about a dozen other people.
“My mom and I stopped by Holt’s the other night. She needs new pots for Thanksgiving next week,” Marcie said. “I didn’t see you.”
Guess she didn’t think to look for me hiding between the clothes racks somewhere.
“I saw that good-looking guy you mentioned,” she said.
“Ty?” I asked, surprised. “How did you know who he
was?”
“He was the only man in the store wearing a suit that looked like it came from Neiman Marcus,” Marcie explained. “He’s really good looking.”
True. You could definitely leave the lights on with Ty.
“We had lunch together yesterday,” I said.
“Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed and her eyes got really big. “Are you two going out?”
“Not exactly,” I said, then leaned in a little. “But he asked Evelyn at work if I was dating anyone.”
Marcie’s mouth flew open. “He’s going to ask you out!”
“Maybe.”
She squealed and latched on to my arm. “How cool!”
Then we launched into standard girlfriend mode: where would Ty and I go on our first date; what would I wear; what kind of car did he drive; what if we got serious; what if we got married; how would my first name sound with his last name; what if I hyphenated; how many kids would we have; what would their names be; would we hyphenate their names?
We covered all of that in about twenty seconds.
“Wow.” Marcie sighed, then announced, “You and Ty would make the perfect couple.”
“Do you think so?” I asked.
“Definitely,” she declared.
We lapsed into a comfortable silence as the crowd milled around the entrance to the restaurant, and people walked past. Then Marcie turned to me and said, “There’s this really cool guy at work that you just have to meet.”
“What?”
Where had that come from, all of a sudden?
“He’s so much fun,” Marcie said. “He loves to ski and ride mountain bikes.”
“What happened?” I demanded. “What did you see?”
And then I knew. I turned in the direction Marcie had been looking in, and there, across the street, stood Ty Cameron. With another woman.
My heart plummeted but I caught it before it hit bottom. Just because he was with a woman, it didn’t mean she was his girlfriend. She could have been anybody—
She was gorgeous.
Mid-twenties, best I could tell from the distance. About the same age as me. Her blond hair was caught up in a casual knot. She wore black boots, a long leather trench coat, a bright red scarf, and carried a Marc Jacobs satchel.
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