2 Cupcakes, Sales, and Cocktails

by Pamela DuMond

  The small chested model turned to the camera, transformed into a buxom vixen that no heterosexual man could resist. The last scene in the video featured her smiling as she chose between three handsome guys on the reality show – The Engaged Chick.

  “Lorinda’s the best brassiere fitter in the world,” Edith said. “She’s been featured in Allure, Cosmo, and YourCupRunnethOver.com. She could find you a bra that would convince Joshua Bumble to take an interview with you.”

  “I do need a new bra,” Annie said. “What do you mean, take an interview?”

  “The notice on the bulletin board. Management’s looking for last minute part-time help.”

  Lorinda spotted Annie and waved. “Welcome back! Did you find Edith?”

  “Not really,” Annie said.

  Edith nudged Annie in the ribs. “Be honest.”

  “Ow!” Annie grabbed her waist.

  “Bad back?” Lorinda asked.

  Annie straightened back up. “No. Bad bra. I need something that will help me - ”

  But Lorinda had already whipped out her measuring tape. “Hold your arms up, please.”

  “Aw, shit,” Annie said. “I just did that for Mary.”

  “Well you’re in luck. We don’t do cavity searches in Ladies’ Lingerie.” Lorinda pulled the tape tight under Annie’s boobs.

  Annie fidgeted.

  “You can’t move at this critical juncture,” Lorinda said.

  “I told you,” Edith said. “She’s a perfectionist.”

  * * *

  Annie walked out of the dressing room wearing the Incredible Bra under her T-shirt. When she caught a glimpse of a busty siren in a mirror. The woman looked similar to her, minus ten pounds and plus three cup sizes. The woman in the mirror was svelte. The woman in the mirror was, oh Mother-of-God…

  “Holy crap!” Annie said.

  Lorinda smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “She’s good,” Edith said.

  “You’re freaking great.” Annie handed Lorinda her credit card. “I think that one will go through.” She held her breath and crossed her fingers behind her back. Oh please let there be some credit available on that card. She looked down at her feet but they had disappeared under her fabulous cleavage. Please, she prayed to Saint Jude, the Saint of Lost Causes, please let this charge go through.

  “Approved!” Lorinda handed her the receipt to sign.

  “Yay! Thank you.” Annie signed. “I finally bought something at Snotsky’s. Maybe my friends will let me leave now.”

  “Ahem,” Edith intoned.

  Annie frowned. “Where do I find the hiring office?”

  * * *

  Snotsky’s local HQ and hiring hub was small, clean and furnished with modern Ikea-life efficient furniture. Several posters of happy young people carrying Snotsky’s bags while they flirted with each other adorned the walls. A young female assistant with hot pink short spiky hair slumped behind a tiny desk and checked her e-mails on her smart phone.

  Annie sat in a small plastic chair in the short hallway and tapped her foot on the new fake wood floor. She had completed the Snotsky’s job application and even checked the box that stated she would undergo a drug test if requested.

  Drugs weren’t really Annie’s thing. She pretended to be down with all that but in truth she was never much of a weed girl. When she sprained her ankle, the Vicodyn gave her acid reflux. She snorted and sniffled in high school during fall allergies because antihistamines made her fall asleep. But sign her up for a cupcake and a Corona any day.

  A young metro thirty-something guy with chin hair walked past her and stopped in his tracks. His head bobbed up and down as he stared at her cleavage, her face, her cleavage, and back to her face. He smiled and stuck out his hand. “My name’s Joshua Bumble. You here to apply for a job?”

  “No, Josh. She’s here for her order of chicken pad thai,” the pink haired assistant said.

  “Go home, Ashley. Isn’t The Gossip Girls on tonight?” Josh said. “Ready for your interview?”

  Annie took Joshua’s hand and he helped her to her feet. “Of course, Mr. Bumble.”

  He led Annie down the hall to his office.

  “He’s a snake. Have your guard up and be extra careful.” Edith walked next to Annie. “Or you might end up stuffed in the corner of a unisex dressing room.”

  * * *

  Joshua Bumble reviewed Annie’s job application.

  “Edith Flowers has told me so many nice things about you and Snotsky’s. That Edith. She’s quite the saleslady.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Are you two pal-sys? You know. Friends? Hang out?” Annie asked.

  Joshua tossed Annie’s job application onto his small desk and regarded her. “No. You’re a baker and you work part time at the best deli in West Los Angeles. Why do you want a part-time job at Snotsky’s?”

  Why indeed, Annie thought. She cracked her fingers. She didn’t have an answer.

  “Repeat after me,” Edith said. “I love holidays, sales and cocktails.”

  “I love holidays, sales and cocktails,” she said.

  “Hmm.” Joshua nodded. His eyes centered on her boobs.

  Edith paced around Joshua’s small office. “I love the ocean, blue skies and seeing the joy in children’s eyes during an Easter egg hunt.”

  “I love the ocean, blue pies and seeing toys in kids’ eyes during an Easter egg punt,” Annie said.

  “Very nice.” Joshua breathed a little heavy.

  And in that moment, Annie felt the hair on her head petted, smoothed, soothed by a human hand. Yes, it was an empathic hit and yes, she’d never felt this sensation before.

  Joshua Bumble leaned across his desk toward her while he fiddled with his pen.

  “Careful,” Edith said. “This is his signature move. This is where he gets you. This is where you give away the store.”

  “One last question, Annie Graceland.”

  Annie clutched her chest as her heart raced and her girls heaved. Must have been the NASA spring factor. “Hit me,” she said.

  “Can you hop?” Joshua asked.

  Eight

  Smelling the Roses

  Annie Graceland clung to the escalator handle with one paw as she held the large pink Snotsky’s-emblazoned basket with her other paw. A long pink and white fake bunny ear protruded from her headband and flopped into her eye. She shoved it back. Repetitively.

  “If this ear pokes my eye out, I am so stalking you in St. Augustine Florida in heaven.” Annie gazed down at her new Snotsky’s outfit: a pink and white fluffy zip up adult onezie that had a cottontail.

  “I told you Bumble was ruthless.” Edith perched on the escalator’s handrail next to her, her legs crossed, ladylike. “Good thing you didn’t apply for a job on St. Patrick’s Day. He’d have made you wear those leprechaun pants.”

  “I think I look cute. A beloved symbol of a happy holiday.”

  Edith sniffed. “More like a rabid rabbit with a rack. What did you accomplish with that interview? You didn’t gain any evidence from Bumble regarding my demise. The way your investigation is going I could be here for an eternity.”

  “Stop smelling the roses and listen to me, Flowers. I’m here to help you. But I am not Wonder Woman.” Annie air-jabbed her index finger at Edith’s head. “And if you think for a second that I will make a complete moron out of myself to help you, you are one hundred percent wrong.”

  A little girl on the adjacent ascending escalator stared at Annie, her eyes huge as she tugged on a woman’s sleeve. “Why is the bunny woman talking to herself, Mommy?”

  The woman frowned at Annie. “Don’t make eye contact with the bunny. Mommy told you what happens when bunnies go off their meds.”

  They reached the second floor. Annie stumbled off the escalator but held onto her basket as she watched Edith dismount gracefully.

  The pianist was playing My Heart Will Go On, sung by that tiny Celine Dion with the huge gorgeous voice.

  “G
ood lord, I will not miss Vic’s romantic renditions,” Edith said.

  “I think it’s lovely,” Annie said. “The theme from the Titanic movie.”

  “A woman’s lover freezes to death in front of her. But her heart will go on. Really? Baloney. I say she hits the turkey potpies, imbibes in too many grasshoppers and gains thirty pounds. Right now I’d like to be moving on. Pick up the pace, please.”

  Annie positioned herself between the Vic the pianist and the bar and greeted passing customers. “Help yourself to a chocolate egg from Snotsky’s. We wish you a Happy Easter and Passover! Ho-Ho-Ho from the Easter Bunny.”

  “Santa Claus says Ho-Ho-Ho,” Edith said.

  “During my first ghost investigation, the killer spray-painted Ho-Ho-Ho, on my car. Apparently the saying can be used for multiple occasions,” Annie whispered. “Happy Easter, sir. Help yourself.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” A geezer grabbed a chocolate from her basket and pinched her behind.

  She whacked him with the basket. Chocolate eggs flew through the air, several pelting him as he stumbled backwards and caught himself on the piano. “I’m an Easter bunny, buddy, not an easy bunny,” she said.

  “This is a terrible way to treat customers,” Edith said.

  “That coming from you?” Annie said. “The meanest department store clerk in the world?”

  “I was a Snotsky’s clerk for thirty-five years, dear. Not simply a part-time holiday employee,” Edith said.

  “Hey!” The groper plucked an egg from his hair, snaked a hand down the front of his shirt and then unfortunately his pants, and retrieved two more eggs. “I’m filing a complaint!” His eyes narrowed and he cocked his arm to throw the eggs at her.

  Annie put her fists on her waist, stood up ramrod straight and stuck out her chest. “Go ahead. Make my day. Throw chocolate at me. They’re Godiva, you know.”

  “Your boobs?”

  “The eggs.”

  “Oh.” The geezer examined an egg, peeled back the foil and popped it into his mouth. “That’s another story.” He walked away.

  * * *

  “And I will not step one foot into that disgusting bar. You’re on your own. Hurry back. Do not be tardy. I was tardy once. Looked what happened,” Edith said. “Someone killed me and stuffed me in a corner.”

  Annie stomped into the bar, pushed her way past the cool players, the trendy designer-attired peeps, and the gorgeous size zero slutty young women. She made her way to Julia, who was hunched over at the bar.

  “Heeeeeeyyyyy,” Julia said and eyed Annie a little wobbly. “You’re the next thing to broke and you bought a bunny outfit? Why’d you buy a bunny outfit?”

  “I did not buy a bunny outfit,” Annie said. “Liam! I need sustenance, please.”

  Julia stared forlornly at her empty cocktail glass on the bar in front of her and swirled the fruit filled stick around its brim. “Liam’s on break. He’s hot, just off the boat, another actor-wannabe. You’d think I finally hit the guy lotto. But no, he plays for the other team. He and Grady are grabbing a frozen yogurt on the Promenade. I so called that one wrong.” She sniffled.

  “Julia, listen to me,” Annie said. “Finding hot available guys in Los Angeles is a total Easter egg hunt. You don’t know where they’re hidden. Maybe they’re behind the flowers or shrubbery or the doghouse. And even if you find that promising egg, you don’t know what’s inside until you peel off the exterior and bite into it.”

  “I like the chocolate eggs with the peanut butter inside,” Julia said.

  “That’s the spirit,” Annie said. “The guy-hunting thing is simply part of the fun, right? Besides, we would love for our fabulous smart cute friend Grady to meet a nice man. He’s overdue. You’re not. Why don’t we order another cocktail?” She hugged Julia.

  “You bought softballs and a bunny suit? Maybe we should just go home.”

  “I didn’t buy softballs or a bunny suit.” Annie hunched so Julia wouldn’t see her new purchase. “The rules are I can’t leave Snotsky’s until I acquire a sales item.” Annie kind of told the truth. The bra wasn’t on sale.

  When Annie spotted a blonde bartender with broad shoulders. Liam’s replacement? “Oh, Mr. Bartender?” The guy turned towards her. He had a cleft in his chin, baby blue eyes and looked farm fresh. “I’d like to buy my friend here a cocktail. What do you recommend?”

  “That depends, Bunny. What’s her poison?”

  Blue Eyes had a total Minnesota accent. “My name’s Annie. What’s yours?”

  “I had an organic Appletini,” Julia said.

  “Max,” the cute bartender said. “If your beautiful friend liked the Appletini and she wants to mix it up, I would recommend the Summertime.”

  “Summertime, it is,” Annie said.

  Max mixed the drink, poured it and placed the large glass on the bar in front of Julia. Who swiveled, stared up at him and blinked like she’d just been showered in pixie dust. “Max is my favorite guy name,” Julia drawled. She took a gulp of her Summertime cocktail. “Oh. My.”

  “Funny. Beautiful curvy blondes have that same effect on me. And your name is?”

  Julia pushed her shoulders back, tilted her head, smiled, squeezed her arms into her chest and gave Max her best cleavage shot. “Julia.”

  My work here is done, Annie thought. “Must try on more clothes.” She headed out the door back into the store.

  * * *

  Edith jumped off the escalator onto the third floor and did a cartwheel. “Wheeh! I haven’t done one of those in fifty years!”

  Annie trudged off the escalator back onto the third floor. She wiped the sweat off her brow. The onezie bunny suit was like a sauna, a torture device, or the newest lose-weight-quickly miracle. Maybe she’d luck out on this shopping trip and drop ten pounds. She could market the bunny onezie on an infomercial, make zillions of dollars and end her money problems forever.

  “One word. Hygiene. You can’t simply drip bodily fluids all over Snotsky’s of Santa Monica,” Edith said. “If I was still alive, I’d call maintenance, perhaps the health department. And then I’d have you removed from the store.”

  “I think you’re enjoying being dead a little too much, Edith. Maybe you don’t need my help. Maybe you can go to the light all on your own.”

  “But I haven’t seen the light. How can I go to the light if I haven’t seen it?” Edith frowned and stomped her foot. “You promised to help find my killer. Are you going to be like one of those bloodthirsty corporations who promise everything at the beginning and then as soon as you believe them they betray you and Bernie make off with your life savings and your dreams? Are you one of them, Annie?”

  Annie sighed. “Who else in your thirty-five years at Snotsky’s hated you enough to want you dead. Edith?”

  Edith turned and gazed across the large room. She pointed her elegant white boney shaking hand to a mannequin dressed in a glittery expensive looking dress. “Cocktail Attire,” Edith said. “Millie Williams. My archrival for thirty-three-plus years at Snotsky’s. The smartest, most competitive and ruthless woman in retail history.”

  Annie’s breath caught in her throat. She and Edith stared, frightened, into each other’s eyes. “It’s time to pay Millie Williams a visit,” Annie said as her bunny ear flopped back down into her face.

  Nine

  Killer Cocktails

  Annie and Edith strolled into the Cocktail Attire Department. Millie Williams was on the phone behind the meticulous little granite-lined counter. She was gorgeous, African-American, in her fifties, sixties, seventies? Annie couldn’t tell. Millie wore an elegant suit that framed her statuesque physique perfectly.

  “I hate to point out the obvious,” Annie said.

  “I already know,” Edith said. “Millie’s suit is newer and nicer than mine.”

  Annie and Edith craned their necks towards Millie and tried to listen in on her conversation. Well, technically Annie craned. Edith’s neck was broken and already tilted in that direct
ion.

  “You cannot wear the purple silk lace Versace to the premiere, my love,” Millie said. “Julianne Moore already wore it twice recently. In New York to a benefit for MOMA. Again in London at a soiree for her new indie. I recommend the Stella McCartney emerald V-neck dress with the slit skirt. I think that would compliment your complexion and show off your Pilates-toned legs.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Annie asked. “Her customers are this high end?”

  “Yes,” Edith answered.

  “We’re screwed,” Annie said.

  “Not exactly,” Edith said. “Millie has a secret. I confronted her last week. It could be worth killing me for.”

  “Oh my God,” Annie said. “Don’t tell me, let me guess.”

  Edith rolled her eyes but nodded.

  “Number one. Millie’s obviously beautiful, so I’m guessing she could have had a scandalous affair with a powerful man in her past?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew it!” Annie fist-bumped Edith. Then watched terrified as her hand turned marble white. She shook it vigorously. It didn’t fall off but took a few moments before it turned flesh-colored again.

  “Snotsky’s has been in business for fifty years,” Edith said. “Every beautiful, mature Snotsky’s employee has had several affairs with powerful men.”

  “Okay.” Annie frowned and bounced up and down on her heels to stir the blood flow to her brain and extremities. But now that she wore the Incredible Bra, her blood seemed to be charted straight towards her boobs. “I know! Millie not only had an affair, but also bore that powerful man’s love child. Just like my last ghostly investigation.”

  “No,” Edith said.

  “Dang,” Annie said. “Okay. If you want me to investigate Millie, if you truly believe she could have wrung your neck? You need to spill the beans. Otherwise, I’m tired, hungry and I’m outta here.”

  “There was one day during Snotsky’s makeover that the store was closed to customers. I was doing paperwork, getting caught up on inventory. I was bored. Needed to stretch my legs. I thought I’d say hello to Millie. But I couldn’t find her. And I accidentally rummaged through her station and found a stash of papers and notebooks under the desk. That’s when I realized Millie has kept secret files on her celebrity clients for years.”