HOW TO BE THE PERFECT GIRLFRIEND

by Heather MacAllister

  Tra la la, Sara didn't care. She swung by the salad bar for a Chinese chicken salad and a blueberry corn-bread muffin, then headed toward the table, secure in the knowledge that she was about to drop a gossip bomb. Simon hadn't asked her to keep it secret, so it was detonation in five minutes.

  Hayden was looking fierce, but trying not to frown. Hayden wouldn't waste wrinkle-inducing frowns on women.

  Missy had brought charts and printed spreadsheets, "…higher probability," Missy was saying.

  "I'm not arguing that point," Hayden argued. "I'm arguing about showing up dressed as June Cleaver."

  "The Beaver's mother was a lady of refinement."

  "Who needed a man who could ruffle those petticoats. And I'm sorry, but ole Ward—"

  "Greetings all." Sara slid onto a chair and popped the plastic top off her salad. "Simon Northrup and I went out for dinner last night."

  Boom. And suddenly, the only sound was Sara crunching the water chestnuts from her salad.

  She savored the moment. The chicken salad was pretty good, too. And the best was yet to come. Missy, a temp who floated from department to department, always knew any gossip worth knowing, and Hayden had an uncanny ability to predict gossip before it happened; Sara rarely—actually, never—got to surprise them.

  And they were surprised now. Shocked. Stunned. It wasn't very flattering, if she thought about it, but she wasn't going to think about it. She told them about Simon, his sister and his stepmother. She may have lingered on the stepmother a little.

  Hayden forgot herself so much as to drop her jaw. Missy's eyes were so wide, her eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs.

  It was a great moment. One of the highlights of Sara's life, which was pretty pitiful.

  "You're kidding," Hayden finally said.

  "She can't be kidding," Missy said. "She's not capable of making up something that good."

  "Hey," Sara protested mildly. She could be gracious in victory.

  "So he is available," Hayden mused.

  "Hayden!" Missy cut her eyes toward Sara.

  "Oh." Hayden snapped back from whatever seductive fantasy she'd been weaving. "Sara, of course I'll defer to you."

  It bugged her the way she said it, as though Sara couldn't hold her own against Hayden should Hayden decide to go after Simon.

  What was she thinking? No way could she hold her own against Hayden. Sara stopped short of staking her claim, though it was a wrenching decision, especially when she kept mentally replaying highlights from yesterday. The photocopier session was a favorite, but so was Simon laughing and laughing while they battled aliens together. His eyes crinkled in a way that she particularly liked and he had a habit of steering her through crowds by casually touching her arm, or resting his hand in the small of her back. She had begun to anticipate his touch and deliberately jostled against him at the video games.

  It took one extra stumble—a happy accident—and Simon's arms shooting out to steady her and she wasn't steady at all. His face was close to hers and when he leaned down, she knew, just knew, he was going to kiss her. And she was all for that. She'd even closed her eyes, but all he did was speak close to her ear so he could be heard above the noise, "Are you all right?"

  She would have been better if he'd kissed her, but she'd nodded, and tried to remember why Simon wasn't right for her.

  She was reminded by Kayla and her little shadow, Amber, who interrupted them about nine hundred times. Really. Kept them constantly informed of the latest ticket count. Begged them to play machines that spit out the red strings. Squealed a lot. Simon would respond instantly, even in midsentence. He'd even walked away from Sara during a game. Not good.

  Sara might as well let Hayden have him, because Hayden wouldn't put up with that for a minute. Actually, Hayden wouldn't last a minute with Simon, but Sara wasn't going to tell her that.

  Still, even though Simon was wrong for her, Sara hated the idea of Hayden going after him. Really hated it. Except the thought of Hayden steamrolling over Joanna was nice. But was the world ready for a Kayla who'd been influenced by Hayden? "I don't think he's exactly available," was what she finally said to Hayden.

  "You said he wasn't dating anyone." Had she said that?

  "He's dating Sara," Missy maintained. "They had dinner last night."

  "In a pinball palace with his kid sister." Hayden dismissed what had been a fun evening for Sara. "That wasn't a date. Sara was a baby-sitter."

  "She was not!" Missy hotly defended her. "They drank margaritas. You don't drink margaritas with your baby-sitter."

  "Has he called her?" They both looked at Sara.

  "Uh…"

  "Give it some time," Missy said.

  Great. Now she was going to go home and check for a blinking light on her answering machine.

  Except she hadn't given Simon her telephone number.

  And he hadn't asked.

  She sighed. Why was it that she always ended up wanting men who didn't want her or were bad for her? And they'd had what would have been a perfect first date, too, if it had been a real date. Which it hadn't been.

  "Never mind that." Missy dragged her spreadsheet across the table. She wrote in Simon's name and went across the columns where she'd listed all the attributes Sara had mentioned she wanted.

  Sara watched as Missy checked off a whole lot of good qualities for Simon Northrup. He almost had a perfect score, darn it.

  "He has issues," she said in a quiet voice.

  "What issues?" Missy asked.

  "Oh, hon, the sister and the beautiful, but evil, stepmother, of course," Hayden said in a bored tone.

  "He said his top priority was establishing a relationship with his sister and being a solid influence in her life," Sara recited.

  "Issue with a capital I." Hayden pointed to the column, which Missy had printed in red, that featured Sara's number-one required trait—total devotion. "That's the deal breaker." Hayden didn't sound too broken up about it.

  "Is it, Sara?"

  With the last lingering memories of Simon fixing the copier, smiling down at her, touching her back and just plain looking at her dancing in her head, Sara forced herself to nod. It was a deal breaker. It had to be.

  Missy slumped, a lapse in posture that indicated her extreme disappointment. As they all watched, she slowly drew a line through Simon's name and extended it all the way across the page.

  "All righty then. Onward with the search." Hayden's voice was suspiciously cheerful.

  Sara wondered if she should warn Simon.

  Missy placed a chart on top of the spreadsheet. "It's lucky for you that I'm spending a couple of weeks in the travel department. I asked around and gathered data on restaurants and hotels frequented by businessmen fitting your search parameters."

  "Let me see that." Hayden looked over Missy's chart and tossed it back. "Those are stuffy places. Old married men stay there."

  "Men accustomed to a certain quality of life supported by a mid-six figure income before stock options and bonuses stay there. And if they're married, there is a good chance that they'll have a son in medical school, law school or grad school."

  "So Sara will be saddled with a husband with thousands in school loans to repay? I don't see how this will improve her quality of life."

  Neither did Sara, but she merely crunched her salad and listened to the two of them.

  "Even if the son is a little young, he won't always be in debt."

  "Hmm." Hayden was looking off into space, her high-heeled foot swinging.

  "The other kind of man Sara would meet would be a go-getter who's deliberately courting the establishment by staying in a conservative old-money kind of place. He's Sara's best bet because he'll be desperate—"

  "Hey!"

  "—for the company of somebody his own age after spending all day deferring to his elders."

  There was silence. Sara had picked out all the water chestnuts. She looked at Hayden.

  Hayden lifted her shoulder, her foot still
swinging.

  Missy took that as agreement. "Which is why Sara should dress with understated class. Remember, our target wants to fit in with old money. Sara will be demonstrating that she's at home with that lifestyle."

  "She can be classy, but she's going to have to be sexy classy, or she won't attract anyone's attention."

  "We don't want her to attract attention, we want her to pique interest. I suggest we meet for drinks tomorrow night at the Stratford Oaks downtown. Sara, you'll need a good leather briefcase or portfolio, a suit, some pearls—"

  "Oh, please! Why not just have her go around curtsying to everyone!"

  "Money attracts money!" Missy snapped. "At the very least, you'll need expensive shoes, Sara. After work, go invest in some black designer pumps."

  "Only gay men know designers," Hayden scoffed.

  "These men will know quality." Missy's gaze flicked toward Hayden's shoes. "Buy one get one free at the Shoe Barn?"

  Hayden looked Missy up and down. "A garage sale at the convent?"

  "Okay. Time-out." Neither Missy nor Hayden looked at Sara. "It's agreed that we'll meet at the Stratford Oaks downtown after work tomorrow. I'll buy new shoes. And a Wonderbra."

  "You don't already have one?" both Missy and Hayden asked in unison.

  "Well, now," Hayden said with a look at Missy.

  "It improves the fit of some of my dresses." Missy gathered up the papers. "I have to scoot, y'all. Phone calls," she explained. "Tootles."

  Hayden waited until she was out of earshot. "Okay, listen up, Sara. You can take Miss Prissy Missy's advice about where to meet men, but for attracting them, you listen to me. Do you really want to attract a man who is turned on by pearls and a buttoned-up collar? Can you imagine him in bed? We're talking twin beds here. We're talking a man with a Madonna complex. Once you're his wife and especially after the kids, say goodbye to fun in the sack. What Missy didn't mention is that those guys are the ones who keep mistresses."

  She seemed to know what she was talking about. "Hayden, have you…?"

  "Not knowingly. I mean, when I was young and stupid, I kinda sorta was. But I didn't know it."

  "Huh?"

  "Well, he was older and richer and I was younger and poorer and I enjoyed the places he took me and when he said that he owned some apartments and some were just sitting empty and I'd be doing him a favor by keeping one occupied and I could save rent, too, well…" She gave Sara a what's-a-girl-gonna-do look.

  "So how long did it last?"

  Hayden gave a crack of laughter. "Not very long. I didn't understand the whole mistress concept and I had a guy over. The old man walked in on us! He didn't knock or anything. In fact I had no idea he expected me to hang around and be available for his visits and only his visits." She laughed again. "I was sooo naive."

  Sara pondered the image of a naive Hayden. Nope. Couldn't manage it.

  Hayden stood. "So tomorrow night, I want to see you in a slit skirt and a Wonderbra. Don't let me down."

  Sara's feet were killing her. She was wearing three hundred dollar shoes. And that was three hundred dollars on sale. Three hundred dollar shoes weren't supposed to hurt, were they?

  They sure looked good. High-heeled black pumps that ought to please Missy. An impressive amount of manufactured cleavage to please Hayden. A new black skirt with a fairly high slit, also to please Hayden because frankly, she had made a lot of sense with that twin bed comment.

  The bar of the Stratford Oaks Hotel looked—and smelled—like the inside of an English men's club. Yeah, old money would feel right at home with all the old leather, and the old cigar smoke.

  Hayden was already there. No one could miss Hayden, who was defiantly dressed in a tight, low-cut red dress. She sat at the bar with her legs crossed as she read a newspaper. Two clusters of men tried to pretend they weren't watching her, but since they'd all moved their chairs so that no one had his back to her, they weren't fooling anybody.

  Missy was there, too, but Sara hadn't seen her at first. Missy clearly didn't want anything to do with Hayden. She had her Palm Pilot out and her hair twisted up with some curls loose, wore black glasses and yes, there were the pearls, a black skirt and white blouse and black shoes.

  Okay, this was a no-win situation. Who was she supposed to sit with?

  "Sara!" Hayden waved at her from the bar. The men swiveled their heads to look at Sara.

  Okay. Hayden it was. Missy shuddered and turned a shoulder toward Hayden as she gave a warning look to Sara. Sara stuck her leg out as she passed. "Check out the shoes."

  "Very nice," Missy said.

  Personally, Sara thought that three hundred dollars deserved more than "very nice."

  "Go sit next to Hayden. You'll look good by comparison."

  Sara shook her head and tried not to limp as she made her way past low tables surrounded by dark green and luggage brown leather club chairs.

  "Nice walk," Hayden commented. "Unbutton a button."

  "I've already unbuttoned a button!"

  "Unbutton another one." Hayden was checking out Sara's skirt. "What's with the granny gown?"

  "Okay, it may be long, but it's got a big slit!" Sara moved her leg.

  "Well, yeah, there's so much fabric to slit through. Hop up."

  Sara eyed the swivel club chair at the bar and tested the give in her skirt. Not much. "How?"

  "First turn so that the old guys can get a good view, then hitch up your skirt."

  Sara decided not to hitch and discovered that her towering heels did help.

  Hayden signaled the bartender, who took his time responding. "Your choices are gin and tonic, a real martini or Scotch on the rocks."

  "That's all they've got?"

  "That's what Missy says to order. She's got some chart linking male personalities and their drinks."

  It figured. "A martini, I guess. Finding the right kind of man is a lot more complicated than I thought."

  "No, honey, it's not." Hayden picked up her drink and casually crossed her legs the other way. She flipped back her hair and swiveled her chair, sending a long look at the men clustered several tables away.

  They all stared down at their drinks.

  "I don't want those men," Sara whispered.

  "It was just practice." Hayden looked at her as she drank her martini. "Hon, you need a little oomph."

  Sara looked at herself. "I feel very oomphy."

  "Powder room. Now." Hayden slid off the bar seat.

  Sara tried sliding, but caught her heel, so her exit was more of a lurch.

  "Be right back." Hayden winked at the bartender.

  He nodded as he wiped some glasses and set them up in twinkling rows on the mirrored back counter.

  "See that? He's expecting more customers," Hayden murmured.

  Once in the restroom, which was unexpectedly plush—in fact, Sara was sorry she couldn't hang out there—Hayden worked on Sarah's hair, then on her face.

  Looking in the mirror, Sara grimaced. "I know you despise my usual muted neutrals but this look…"

  "Smoky eyes."

  "It's a little much, don't you think?"

  "In here, yes, but that bar is so dark, you need a little extra."

  "What's my hair's excuse?"

  "Clipping it back on one side is very sultry. You should have used hot rollers."

  "Hmm." Sara headed for the door.

  "Sara—button."

  "No."

  "Then adjust." Hayden wiggled and hefted her breasts forward.

  Frankly, Sara didn't have all that much to move around, but she'd forgotten about the wonders of the Wonderbra. She mimicked Hayden and was shocked at her new profile. "Now I know why it's called a Wonderbra—'cause you wonder where all this comes from." She looked down at herself. "I swear I see some thigh in there."

  Hayden laughed. "Come on."

  When they returned to the bar, it was to find that Missy had two yuppie-types sitting in her little conversation group.

  "Should I go over ther
e?" Sara asked uncertainly.

  "Do you want to meet either of those two men?"

  Did she? One was blond, the other light-brown-haired and Sara seemed to be on a dark-haired kick.

  Simon Northrup had dark hair. Well, Simon Northrup wasn't here, was he? And she was and so were her two loyal friends who had given up their time to help Sara find a man. She needed to concentrate and quit whining about what she couldn't have.

  With renewed determination, Sara hitched her skirt, climbed onto the barstool and flipped her hair. The bartender set her drink in front of her and exchanged Hayden's glass for a fresh one.

  "Did you order that?" Sara asked.

  "Not exactly." Hayden looked around, but no one came forward to claim her attention. "I guess there's a minimum if you sit at the bar." She raised the glass toward the unsmiling bartender. "I just don't intend to pay for my own drinks." She sipped her drink. "Now, what have we got?"

  Men and a few women, but mostly men trickled into the bar area. Sara kept waiting for someone to approach them, but no one did.

  Missy, on the other hand, had exchanged her yuppies for three older men. She was laughing and smiling and generally holding court.

  Sara munched on her olive and dropped the toothpick in her now-empty glass. "Well, this sure is fun."

  "Work must have sucked the testosterone right out of these men," Hayden said grimly.

  "Maybe we should go sit at a table."

  "Stay right there," Hayden ordered. "No Miss Priss is going to out-attract me!"

  Hayden slithered down from the bar and headed toward a group of men, a little louder and a little younger than the others, who'd just come in. Clearly, they'd been attending some all-day seminar, because they were still wearing badges helpfully supplying their names.

  Sara had planned to stay at the bar and watch, but at the last minute, Hayden reached out and practically pulled her along with her. Sara gritted her teeth behind her smile. She was not a mingler. She was more of a wait-for-them-to-come-to-her type. Only they never did.

  "Y'all from out of town?" Hayden asked brightly, but not as brightly as her dress.