The evening ended on that very positive note. Everyone was so happy to see Sandra, previously so shy and insecure, coming out of her shell, that they set aside all their other worries to celebrate with her.
When everyone had gone, Lorna cleaned the dishes and wineglasses and then went back to her computer and logged in to eBay.
Shoegarpie had been there!
The bidding on the Lemers was up to $37.50.
Now, Lorna had sworn to herself that she wasn’t bidding over twenty bucks, and she knew that even that was probably too much for her budget to handle.
But she was getting a new job; everything that had happened this week had made that clear. So obviously she’d have a more reliable income soon. And she could keep Jico’s night shift, so, really, she’d have double the income. Soon. Because businesses didn’t advertise job vacancies unless they were ready to fill them.
Where would she ever find specs like this again? They were vintage. This was the last chance she’d ever have to own something like this.
She could already picture herself showing them to the Shoe Addicts.
Time was running out. The auction had only five minutes and forty-six, forty-five, forty-four—
She typed in $61.88 and waited with bated breath. YOU HAVE ALREADY BEEN OUTBID, the screen said.
“Crap!” She typed in $65.71. YOU HAVE ALREADY BEEN OUTBID.
She looked at the screen. Shoegarpie again. Of course. With four minutes and under ten seconds to go, Shoegarpie might actually win this thing unless Lorna got on the stick.
$99.32.
YOU ARE THE HIGH BIDDER.
“Ha! Take that, Shoegarpie!”
She refreshed the page. She was still the high bidder. Good. She continued to refresh as the minutes ticked down. Three minutes and ten seconds…two minutes and fifty seconds…two minutes and thirty-five seconds…two minutes and ten seconds…
Boom! There it was! YOU HAVE BEEN OUTBID.
Logic left Lorna like a great swoosh of wind. She was going to beat Shoegarpie at this no matter what it took.
It was just maddening that this woman—or man—was sitting on the other side of a computer screen somewhere, typing in bids that were costing Lorna money. And for what? There was no way she was going to let Shoegarpie win.
She typed in a maximum bid of $140.03. YOU ARE NOW THE HIGH BIDDER.
The price leapt to $110.50—obviously Shoegarpie’s max—but held steady.
Heart pounding, Lorna hit the REFRESH button over and over, glad to see she was still the highest bidder It was under a minute now. She was coming in toward the finish line. The spectators were hers. They were within reach. In just a few seconds, it would be official.
Ten, nine, eight—Lorna refreshed the page—five, four—she was still the high bidder!—three, two, one—she hit REFRESH again, confident in her victory.
And there it was.
$152.53. Winner: Shoegarpie.
Lorna couldn’t believe it. She felt sick. Shoegarpie had jumped in at literally the last second and trumped Lorna’s highest bid. By a mere $12.50! Only $12.50 stood between her and that amazing pair of vintage Lemers! It was such a small amount.
Shoegarpie had stolen Lorna’s shoes.
After the initial outrage had faded, and Lorna regained her perspective, she realized that the shoes she had lost had not, in fact, cost just $12.50. She’d been willing to shell out a hundred and a half, plus shipping, despite the fact that she was about to lose her home.
That was not rational.
She had to force herself to get her act together. That began by calling and making…She stopped and thought. Three, she came up with, three job interviews. She was going to make calls and fax résumés—in bare feet, no less—until she had lined up three interviews.
Chapter
17
You don’t want to work on Capitol Hill,” Helene told Lorna. She was the first to arrive for the meeting, and Lorna had told her she was interviewing with Senator Howard Arpege the next morning. “They blame everything on their administrative assistants. When they’re not screwing them, I mean.”
“Ew.” Lorna made a face. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
Helene pictured Howard Arpege and felt her stomach seize. “No, but it’s almost as bad if he’s trying to get you to. Maybe worse.”
“Come on, there’s no way that old man is interested in sex.”
Helene raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised what I’ve heard.”
“Oh, God, don’t tell me.”
There was a knock, and the door opened slightly. “Can I come in?” Joss asked, peeking around the corner.
“Of course.” Lorna stood up. “I’ve got to pee. Just keep the door open so Sandra can come on in when she gets here.”
She disappeared into the back, and Joss sat down next to Helene on the sofa.
“What’ve you got this week?”
Joss took a shoe box out of her bag and produced a pair of lime green Noel Parker sandals.
“Hey, I used to have a pair of those. Let’s see ’em.” Helene took the shoes and examined them. Yes, she’d had a pair like this. She’d had a pair exactly like this. Right down to the faint black mark on the left shoe, where she’d dropped a Sharpie permanent black marker and couldn’t get it off the shoe.
That’s why she’d given them to Goodwill.
“They’re fantastic,” she said warmly, handing them back to a disconcerted-looking Joss. “I miss mine. I wore them so much, they got totally worn out.”
Joss looked relieved. “But they’re good shoes, right?” she asked, eagerness in her eyes.
“Oh, yes. They’re great.”
Lorna returned to the room and was taken aback when she saw Sandra, who had just arrived. She’d finally gotten clothes that fit since she’d lost all that weight. Tonight it was a pair of jeans and a fitted black top. On her feet, she wore a gorgeous pair of extreme heel spectators.
“I can’t believe it!” Helene gasped. “Are those Lemers?”
Sandra grinned. “Yes, aren’t they fab?”
“Wonderful. They only made that style for two years, you know.” Helene gave a low whistle. “Lemer spectators. Where on earth did you get them?”
“What?” Lorna came running into the room. “Lemer spectators? Let me see those.”
Sandra pointed a toe out to show off the shoes.
“Holy shit,” Lorna breathed.
“I know!” Sandra beamed. “You’ll never guess where I got them.”
“EBay,” Lorna said.
Sandra looked shocked. “How on earth did you know?”
“Oh, my God, I can’t believe it. You’re Shoegarpie?” Lorna asked, her voice rising to near-hysterical pitch.
For a moment, Sandra frowned; then understanding crossed her face. “Shoeho927.”
“Yes!” Lorna shrieked. “Do you know how much money you’ve cost me?”
“Me? You jacked these babies into the hundreds!”
Lorna laughed and held out her hand. “Well, let me congratulate you face-to-face. If I’d known how great they were, I probably would have bid higher.”
Sandra laughed, too. “Thank God you didn’t. I could barely afford them as it is. So you scored the Marc Jacobs boots, huh?”
Lorna nodded. “I’ll show them to you.”
“What are you two talking about?” Joss asked, looking bewildered. “Are we supposed to have nicknames?”
This sent Sandra and Lorna into gales of laughter, and when they finally calmed down they told Helene and Joss that they’d been bidding against each other on eBay.
Sandra tried to hand the specs over to Lorna, but Lorna wouldn’t let her, and instead they decided to share custody of the specs and the Marc Jacobs boots.
That set the tone for one of the most relaxed evenings they’d had together. It was funny—Helene had come into this looking for an escape; she’d never dreamed she’d end up with true friends.
“Tell us about t
his guy you’ve gotten all slimmed down for,” Joss said to Sandra, digging into the Doritos and watching Sandra expectantly.
“First, keep those things away from me.” Sandra smiled and shooed the bowl of Doritos away.
“They’re baked,” Lorna offered.
“Really?” Sandra reached toward them, but stopped and drew her hand back. “I can’t start. Three pieces of a sensible snack are fine. Thirty are another thing altogether. I’d go for the thirty.”
“Me, too,” Helene said, though the truth was she’d always had a wobbly stomach that felt ill if she ate too much of anything. Some people were jealous of her seemingly effortless ability to stay slim, but it was hard work feeling sick half the time.
And nerves just made it worse.
Tonight she was a nervous wreck.
“Go on, Sandra,” Helene said, forcing herself to sound and act normal. “You’re not distracting us with Dorito talk. Tell us about the guy.”
“Okay.” Sandra blushed prettily, though the contrast with her green hair made it a little less attractive. “I’ve actually known him since high school. We were both the fat kids. No one ever gave either one of us a second thought, I’m guessing. But they’d be stunned to see Mike today.”
“That’s his name? Mike?” Joss asked.
Sandra nodded. “Mike Lemmington.” She blushed again. The girl obviously had it bad if just the thought of the guy, or saying his name, made her blush like that. “He is unbelievably good-looking. I mean, seriously, like a male model.”
“I can vouch for that,” Lorna said, smiling at the obviously proud Sandra. But something about the smile looked like…pity? “I saw him at Jico. Very good-looking. And he’s nice, too.”
“That’s the best part. He’s sweet and sensitive, and we just talk and laugh for hours.” She gave the “okay” sign. “Totally in touch with his sensitive side.”
“Are you sure he’s not, maybe, a little too in touch with his feminine side?” Lorna suggested carefully. It was clear to Helene she’d picked up on a vibe that Sandra had missed.
“What do you mean?” Sandra asked, looking sincerely puzzled.
“Oh, nothing, really.” Lorna was struggling. “I just dated this guy once who seemed perfect. You know, sensitive, great-looking, the whole nine yards. But it turned out he was gay.”
“Oh my God!” Sandra looked shocked. “How awful for you.”
“It was. It really was. And the thing is, I missed all the signs. Really obvious signs.”
“I don’t want to sound like too much of a rube, but if he was gay, why was he dating you?” Joss asked.
Lorna shrugged. “I guess he wanted a beard.”
Joss’s mouth dropped open. “A—?”
“A cover-up,” Helene explained. “A woman to date so people thought he dated women.”
“Ooooooh.” Joss nodded. “I get it. Yikes, that must have been upsetting.”
“It was,” Lorna said pointedly. “I just wish I’d figured it out sooner.” She met Helene’s eyes.
Helene made sure no one was looking and mouthed the words Is Mike gay?
Lorna grimaced and nodded.
Helene’s heart sank. Poor Sandra. Here she was, head over heels for the guy, probably thinking she’d finally met Mr. Right, and she was headed for heartbreak.
“I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like, Lorna,” Sandra said. “Truthfully, if I hadn’t known Mike for so long, I’d worry about the same thing.”
“Did he date a lot of girls in high school?” Helene asked.
“No, but only because he was fat. Or, as he would put it, weight challenged. Girls in our high school didn’t pay any attention to guys who weren’t either hot or rich, since most of the guys there were, so he was lost in the shuffle.”
“At least you found him now,” Joss said. “Does he have any available friends?”
Sandra shook her head. “As far as I can tell, most of his friends are women. That drives me nuts.”
“Ew, it would drive me nuts, too,” Joss agreed. “I prefer a guy who’s a loner. You know, the dark, brooding type.”
“That’s asking for trouble,” Helene said, thinking of her own dark, brooding husband. But her marriage was a dark corner of her psyche that she didn’t want to examine too closely right now. “Trust me, there’s a lot to be said for the bland accountant who drives a sensible car and remembers your birthday.”
“Amen,” Lorna agreed.
“That’s who my sister married,” Sandra said. “Well, he’s a banker. And his car isn’t sensible so much as it’s German. But he’s bland.”
“That’s what counts. And it’s a good thing, too, because your sister’s pregnant, right?”
Sandra nodded. “Oh! And remember how I found out she was adopted?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it turns out she’d often play the ‘you don’t love me as much as Sandra because I’m adopted’ card on our parents.”
“She told you that?” Lorna asked.
Sandra reached for the Doritos and nodded. “She admitted it.” She crunched into a chip and nodded. “She was totally honest.”
“Did that piss you off?” Lorna asked.
“No way. It made me feel great. All these years I thought they loved her more than me and it turns out they were just trying to reassure her.” She laughed. “And she wasn’t even depressed; she was just playing them in order to get out of being grounded or to get a raise in her allowance or whatever. Everyone wins.”
“And you spent years having no idea?” Joss shook her head. “It’s like a bad movie. How do things like that happen to real people.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised what weird things real people go through,” Helene said.
“Isn’t that the truth?” Lorna stood up. “Who wants more wine? Sandra, I got seltzer water, so we can cut yours in half the way you like. I’m going to do that myself with the wine Joss brought.”
“I wouldn’t mind trying that,” Helene said.
“Not me,” Joss said. “It took me a long time to get to twenty-one. I want mine straight.”
“You got it, young one.” Lorna laughed and went to the kitchen to get the wine.
“So tell me something,” Sandra said to Helene. “Is it my imagination or are you getting even skinnier lately? I hope you’re not on a diet.”
“No, no,” Helene said, trying to sound light, though she really felt as if she might get sick. She took a deep belly breath, like her yoga teacher had taught her. “It’s just…” She shrugged. “Nerves.”
Everyone seemed to move in closer, including Lorna, who was carrying a tray of wineglasses. “That’s it,” she said, setting the tray down and handing a glass to Helene. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Lorna looked at the others, then said, “You look unwell, honey. Last week you looked tired, but this week you look tired and rattled. Is there something going on?”
“You can trust us if you want to talk about it,” Joss said, moving in to put a hand on Helene’s shoulder.
Something about the gesture was so sweet, so soothing, that Helene found her eyes tearing up.
“Oh, no, it’s okay.” Sandra moved closer and put her arm around her, too, and before she knew it, Helene was in the middle of a big group hug, sobbing her eyes out.
As bad as she felt, though, it felt good to let it go. Finally. She let fly with everything—all the pain she’d felt for years, her whole life.
“I’m sorry,” she said, drawing back at last. “I’m really a mess.”
Six concerned eyes looked back at her.
“How can we help?” Lorna asked.
Helene hesitated. This was a chance to tell someone about the guy following her and not to have them laugh at her or dismiss it out of hand. After all, Lorna was the one who’d noticed him first.
But if she told them, she might worry them, and she didn’t want to do that.
“You’re slipping away,” Sandra said
, giving her a squeeze. “I’ve seen this before. You were about to tell us, and now you’re changing your mind.”
Helene couldn’t help but laugh. “You should be a psychic. People could call you on a 900 number, and you’d make a fortune.”
Sandra’s cheeks went pink, and Helene was immediately sorry for having made light of her concern.
But before she could say anything, Lorna said, “Why are you afraid to talk about it?”
“I’m not afraid,” Helene began, then looked at the women. Her friends.
They were her friends.
“I am afraid,” she admitted. “Lorna, do you remember a few weeks ago when you called me because you thought someone was following me?”
“Of course.”
“You were right.”
“I was?” Her eyes widened. “I knew it! That son of a bitch has been out there every single time you’ve come over, and I kept telling myself it was a coincidence, or that Thugs R Us was also meeting here on Tuesday nights.” She shook her head. “Who is he? Let’s go out and get him.” She honestly looked like she was ready to spring into action.
“Wait a minute, what are you two talking about?” Sandra asked; then her mouth dropped open. “The guy you asked me about that first night when I came back for my purse?”
Lorna nodded.
Sandra gave a low whistle.
“Well, who is he?” Joss wanted to know. “Why would someone be following you anyway?”
“Helene has a pretty powerful husband,” Sandra began patiently. “He might be running for president someday.”
Helene felt another wave of illness well up in her.
“I know who he is,” Joss said without sounding defensive. “Do you think someone’s following Helene to try and catch her doing something bad?” She turned her baby blue eyes to Helene. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that he knows where I live. When I leave my house, he shows up within a couple of blocks, and when I go home, he turns off a block or two before my turn usually. He’s always behind me, so there’s no way for me to whip around and see where he’s going.”
Shoe Addicts Anonymous Page 21