Rita Hayworth's Shoes

by Francine LaSala

  “What’s the matter, Amy? I thought we were friends.”

  She looked up at him. “I think… I think…”

  “You sure do think a lot. Gorgeous people like you don’t usually think at all, let alone as much as you do.”

  She was quiet for a minute. “I usually make bad decisions.”

  “Well, that’s because you think too much,” he said, moving off his chair and sitting down on the edge of the desk in front of her. “What do you feel?” he asked, looking right into her eyes, looking right through her.

  “I think I better get those notes typed before I get myself fired,” she said, and she ran out.

  ##

  Later that evening, Jane, Lauren, Zoë, and Amy sat in Jane’s bedroom as she got ready for her date. The women were sipping wine and Zoë was drinking chocolate milk, curled up on her mother’s bed, immersed in a book.

  “I can’t believe I haven’t had a date in two years.”

  “Three years,” said Zoë, not looking up.

  “No, I’m pretty sure it was two.”

  “Actually,” Amy began.

  “Try closer to five,” said Lauren.

  “That’s true,” said Zoë. “I was being nice.”

  “That’s not possible,” said Jane, genuinely surprised. “Five years?” She counted back on her fingers. Her expression dropped. “Five years,” she said. “What am I thinking about? I can’t do this,” she whined.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Lauren assured. “It’s like riding a bike.”

  “Actually, riding a bike isn’t even like riding a bike,” said Amy. “I was on a bike a couple of years ago after not riding since I was a kid, and there’s just no way that statement is true. It was impossible to balance and I—” Lauren and Jane glared at her. Even Zoë broke away from her book to glare. “Oh. Sorry,” Amy said, meekly.

  “You’re going to have a good time,” Lauren assured. “You’re going to have dinner, maybe take a nice walk—”

  The doorbell rang and nobody moved. It rang again, and all the women looked to Zoë. “But the holidays are over,” she whined. Seeing it was getting her nowhere, she dropped her book and jumped off the bed. “Fine,” she hissed.

  Lauren walked over to the bed and picked up Zoë’s book. “The Second Sex?”

  Jane shrugged her shoulders. “She’s on a sociology jag.”

  “Women are so complicated,” she sighed, putting the book back down. “But men,” she continued. “Men are easy. Really all they want is a blow job now and then. Do that and you can hold on to them forever. Truly. That’s the secret.”

  “Huh,” said both Jane and Amy, both painfully uncomfortable.

  “Which reminds me,” said Lauren. “Be sure you bring condoms.”

  “Mom! Nice mothers—”

  “Save the preaching for the kid, sweetie. You look gorgeous. It could happen.” She reached into her purse, and much to the girls’ horror, pulled out a strip of six. “Be safe.”

  “I can’t believe you, Mother,” Jane huffed. “Honestly!” she huffed.

  Lauren lay the condoms down on the bed and headed for the door. “I’m going out to see what’s gotten you all riled up,” she said.

  When her mother left, Jane snatched them up and slipped them into her purse. She stood in front of the mirror, and Amy stepped behind her. “You look beautiful,” Amy said. “Truly.”

  Jane took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  They walked into the living room to find Zoë snuggled on Lauren’s lap on the couch, and Detective Ollie Franks sitting opposite them, sipping at a brown beverage in a lowball glass. “The little one actually makes a pretty terrific Manhattan,” he smiled and rose. “Wow. You look terrific,” he said as he walked over to Jane and planted a small kiss on her cheek.

  “Where did you learn to make that?” Jane asked Zoë. She shrugged slyly.

  Jane chose to change the subject. “Are you coming from work?”

  “Actually,” he looked at Amy. “I just saw Deck.”

  “What’s a deck?” Lauren asked. “Is that a police term?”

  Ollie laughed. “No, he’s a guy. A really standup guy, actually. Amy here works for him.”

  “Oh,” said Lauren, a little betrayed for not already knowing this.

  “I just started working for him last week or so. No big deal,” said Amy.

  “Last week, eh?” said Lauren. “About the time you told poor Brendan you didn’t want to see him anymore?” she pressed, and everyone turned to Amy.

  “One had nothing to do with the other,” she snapped. “If you all most know, it was because I saw David that day, and it kind of turned me off things.”

  “Oh?” asked Ollie.

  “It was a bad relationship,” she began. “I mean, no. It was a good relationship. It just ended badly.” Lauren, Jane, and Zoë all shook their heads.

  “Only a bad relationship ends badly,” said Ollie, with authority. “Like what happened with Deck and Marny.” He shook his head in disgust. “That woman was evil to him, pure evil all the way through,” he said. “But Deck never saw it.”

  “What happened?” asked Amy. “In the end? I mean …”

  “I hope we find her just so we can find a good way to punish her.”

  “Was it so bad?” Jane asked.

  “It was terrible,” Ollie said. “Crippled him. I mean, who loses their hair like that?” he shook his head. “Through it all, all he wanted to do was find her and that’s all he devoted himself to for months and months. Despite the problems they were having, he really believed something had happened to her.”

  “Sounds like a prince,” said Lauren.

  “Just a very romantic soul,” said Ollie. “A shitty Scrabble player, though. You really don’t know any of this?” he asked Amy.

  “No,” she said. “I mean yes about the Scrabble. But all he told me was that she left.”

  He shook his head. “The day she left,” he paused. “That morning they were having coffee, talking about taking a vacation, maybe even starting a family. When he got home from work later that afternoon, she was gone. Vanished into thin air without even leaving a note.”

  “Oh, my,” said Jane.

  “It wasn’t until months later that we found the photo albums.”

  “Albums?” Zoë asked, and snuggled up to her grandmother.

  “Apparently, this sick bitch—” Jane cleared her throat; Zoë rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” he coughed. “She took all his photo albums—his childhood, their wedding, everything…”

  “And?” Lauren asked.

  “And she burned them in a ditch in the backyard.”

  “I had no idea it was so bad,” Amy gasped, feeling a stab in her heart. “I had no idea she was so cruel.”

  Ollie finished his drink. “Some people are just plain evil,” he said. “Beautiful, but evil all the same.” He downed the rest of his drink. “And some people can’t see crazy when it’s wrapped up so pretty,” he sighed and then looked at Amy up and down for a moment. “He thinks the world of you, as you know.”

  “I didn’t know that, no,” she blushed.

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  Ollie gave Amy a doubting glance and walked over to Jane, extending his arm. “Well, it was very nice meeting you all, but we better get going if we’re going to make that reservation.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” said Lauren, and she kissed Amy and Zoë good-bye. “I haven’t been home in two whole hours and I’m sure Joshua’s bouncing off the walls with boredom,” she said. “Has no idea what to do with himself when I’m not around.”

  ##

  “Bullshit,” Zoë squealed.

  Amy rolled her eyes at her young friend and took up the
stack of cards Zoe had just called her bluff on. “I don’t know how you talked me into playing this game with you.” She shook her head as she appraised the contents of her hand. “Your mother would kill me if she knew.”

  “Just turn over that next card and let’s keep it going,” said Zoë. Amy sat across from Zoë at the dining room table, a bowl of chips between them.

  “Anyway,” Amy spoke from where she left off, “he thinks I should defend my dissertation already. He tells me every day.”

  “Everyone thinks you should you should finish, Auntie Amy,” said Zoë, clicking her tongue on the back of her top front teeth. “Two sevens.”

  “Everyone who loves me, sure.”

  Zoë shot her a coy glance. “Are you saying he doesn’t?”

  “That would be a little ridiculous. Don’t you think?”

  “You heard what Ollie said. Why would it be ridiculous?” she asked.

  “Because I’ve only just met him. I’ve really only been working closely with him a couple of weeks. “Two kings. He doesn’t know me.”

  “Does it matter?” Zoë asked, clicking her tongue on her teeth again, and threw down more cards. “Three nines. You know the story of Paris and Helen of Troy.”

  “Of course.”

  “He didn’t know her at all but he loved her so much and had to have her so badly, it started a war.”

  “And you know how that turned out. Besides, it was Aphrodite who—” Zoë shook her head. “I’m doing it again?” Zoë nodded. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t fall in love with a body,” Zoë said.

  “I think you say that to me a lot. Two fours,” she said, and placed down her cards unchallenged.

  “You need to hear it a lot. And you also think a lot. Two sevens. Maybe too much,” she said, studying the cards remaining in her hands. “Except not about things that matter.”

  “Bullshit!” Amy screamed out, and Zoë took up the cards. Now calmer, she asked, “What does that mean?”

  “Starts with a D.”

  “Deck?”

  “No, dummy,” she said, emphasizing the D. “Dissertation. Defense. Two sixes.” Zoë shook her head. “It could have been anything and you went right for Deck,” she said, and shook her little blonde head. “And you say you don’t like him,” she rolled her eyes.

  “Honestly, I haven’t thought about that paper in years. Three nines. I haven’t thought about a lot of things in years.”

  “Bullshit!” Zoë exclaimed, and Amy picked up her cards.

  “You want to know what I think?” said Zoë, now tapping away at her tooth with her tongue.

  “What?”

  “I think you’ve totally got a thing for old baldie! Two twos.”

  “Bullshit,” she motioned to Zoë to pick up the cards and Zoë glared at her as she added them to her hand. “That doesn’t even make sense,” Amy said.

  “Oh, no? Because you bring him up all the time,” she said, flicking the back of her teeth with her tongue again.

  “I work with him,” she snapped. “One ace.”

  “You worked with Heimlich, too,” said Zoë. “Two fives.”

  Amy looked at Zoë, now with one card left, and looked at her own. She opened her mouth to speak, but Zoë beat her to it. “And I basically only knew about him from your wedding and his funeral.”

  “Two sevens,” said Amy, throwing down cards as Zoë beamed.

  “Bullshit, Auntie Amy,” she grinned smugly. “One seven!” she shouted, and threw down her cards. “And I win!”

  “Fine,” Amy said, throwing down her cards. “Why don’t we just drop it, okay?”

  Zoë shrugged her shoulders and continued clicking her tongue against her teeth. Amy finally lost her patience with it. “Why do you keep flicking your tongue like that?”

  “I think I have a loose tooth.”

  Amy warmed. “Wow, honey! Your first one!”

  “Yep. Crazy, huh?”

  “Oh, Zoë. You’re growing up!”

  Zoë looked up at Amy over her eyebrows. “Now why would I want to do that?”

  “Why? What’s wrong with being grown-up?

  “Grown-up people are nuts.”

  “I don’t see—”

  “No, you don’t. None of you do. You’ve got this perfectly nice guy all crazy about you and somehow you’re still hung up on that dipshit.”

  “Zoë, nice little girls don’t—”

  “Look, I’m not that nice. Don’t tell my mother,” Zoë teased. “Seriously, she’s another one. Ollie’s so nice and she wasn’t going to go out with him.”

  “The moustache?”

  “You know how she feels about men with facial hair. Anyway, she gave it a shot, but she wasn’t going to—and just because of that. Crazy.”

  Amy mentally weighed a moustache against having no hair at all, and Zoë continued.

  “The point of the matter is I think that when you grow up, you go crazy and you stop being able to see the obvious. That’s just my opinion,” she said, now tapping her tooth more aggressively than ever before.

  “Then why do you keep trying to wriggle that tooth out?”

  “Because it’s annoying me.”

  “Really because it’s only just started to come loose.”

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

  ##

  Jane got home at eleven-thirty, a little tipsy and more than a little giddy. Amy greeted her at the door. “Looks like it went well.”

  “You have no idea,” she gushed. “I had no idea I would go for a man in uniform.”

  “He’s a detective. He doesn’t wear a uniform.”

  “He could if I wanted him to,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “I didn’t need that visual.”

  “Oh lighten up,” she said. “What about you? When are you going to give poor Deck a shot.”

  “Seriously?”

  Why not?”

  “I didn’t tell you before. But I think he wanted to kiss me today.”

  “Kiss you?” Jane gushed. “What happened?”

  “Well we were dancing around…”

  “At work?” Jane said, smugly.

  “Kind of,” Amy replied, feeling slightly embarrassed but also warmed by the thought of it. “Anyway, there was a moment when I landed on his knee that seemed…”

  “You landed on his knee?”

  “Just forget it. Anyway, the point is, he’s really nice. A little quirky, too.,” she said with a warm smile. “Except he really likes Chicago.”

  “Chicago’s a nice city.”

  “The group.”

  “Oh,” she said. “And why again is that one for the no column?”

  “He’s a little goofy,” Amy said, almost wistfully.

  Just then Zoë poked her head out of her bedroom. “I told you she liked old baldie!”

  “I thought you’d be sleeping, monster,” Jane said, and she motioned Zoë over. Zoë ran to her mother, who took her in her arms and lifted her off the ground. “How’s the dangler?” she asked.

  Zoë clung to Jane like an orangutan. “Still dangling,” she said.

  “Don’t rush it. It will come out when it’s ready,” Jane assured, giving Zoë a couple of Eskimo kisses.

  Amy smiled at the tenderness between mother and daughter, and felt a pang of longing for her own mother as she watched them together. “So are you still coming to that party with me?”

  “Of course. Will he be there?’

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I look forward to getting to know him better.”

  “Whatever, but he really isn’t my type.”

  “So what is your type?” Zoë asked.

  “I do
n’t know. Less big? I mean Deck’s got be six-foot-five or something.”

  “So you’re looking for less of a man,” Jane shot back. “Like the girly men you’ve always dated.”

  “They aren’t girly.”

  “Please,” Jane scoffed. “All David needed was lipstick and a dress and he’d be a woman.” Zoë giggled. “And I apologize to women everywhere for saying that.”

  “I don’t see–”

  “No, you don’t. You need a man, a real man. Someone who really cares about you. Someone who would do anything for you,” she mused. “Someone who could be a real hero. A prince. I think Deck could be that guy…”

  “Look, Deck’s a nice guy and everything. But there has to be some physical attraction for it to go somewhere. Doesn’t there?”

  Zoë shook her head. “Now you sound like Charlotte in Sex and the City—but see how that turned out!”

  Both women turned their heads to look at Zoë; Her mother was not amused, which the sharp little one picked up on instantly.

  “I mean, not that I ever watched that show. But seriously, you’d have to be living under a rock if you don’t get the reference,” she said, now a little defensive. “But I don’t watch it. I have never seen that show or know who any of those women are and I’ve never seen any of them naked.” The women now raised their eyebrows at her.

  “At least, I don’t watch it anymore. But that’s not the point, really, is it? The point is Charlotte fell for Harry who was bald, when her horrible, handsome husband with all that hair was bad to her. It’s just like with you, Amy. Don’t you see it?”

  Amy shook her head. “Harry was missing hair on his head. This guy doesn’t have a hair on his body. Like a frog.”

  “Come on, Amy. You never kissed a frog?”

  “You’re thinking of the wrong story.”

  10. How Amy Came Face-to-Face with David and a Sea Monster, and How She Learned Some Monstrous Details of Deck's Past

  The Stratton University annual gala was held every year at the Garden City Hotel on Long Island, New York. Why is was held there had always been a mystery, as it wasn’t particularly easy for anyone who worked at Stratton to get to, and it seemed an uncharacteristically opulent venue for a school which was generally casual. One rumor holds that the party was held here because Dr. Phil Nickerson, the one-time president of Stratton, once an all-men’s college, had a thing for the then-president of Adelphi, Dr. Lindsay Frost, who headed the then-all-women’s college. He believed hosting the event at the hotel, which was located mere blocks from the women’s school, would win both the attentions and affections of Dr. Frost. But he never quite succeeded at winning either of them.