High Heels in New York

by A. V. Scott

  But she didn’t know. And that’s exactly what she told the Police Officer, even though the look on his face was evident that he did not believe a word she told him.

  “The hell you won’t. Brooklyn is full of gangsters and girls with big hair,” Christina said, walking over to her and giving her a big hug.

  “There’re gangsters everywhere,” Melissa replied, walking back into her bedroom and opening the double doors to her closet and trying not to laugh. “And big hair is in New Jersey.”

  “At least in Manhattan they know how to dress,” Christina said. “Plus, can you see yourself back in Brooklyn?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Melissa lied. She hadn’t lived in Brooklyn in over a decade. The closest she even got to her old home town was downtown Brooklyn and that was just to go to Junior’s for cheesecake. But now she had to pay the rent to her apartment all her herself which was something she couldn’t afford. Melissa felt nauseous just thinking about moving back to Brooklyn. There is absolutely nothing worse than having to move back to the number one place you were running from. That would be like shopping at Bloomingdales wearing sweatpants and a pair of Nikes. She just didn’t fit in that part of New York anymore.

  Taking a deep breath, she began picking up shoes from her closet and holding them up in the air. “Where in the Tri-state area will I be able to find an apartment that has a closet big enough for all of my things?”

  “I’m sure you don’t have that much stuff,” Christina said, walking over and gasping when she saw the closet. “Geez woman, you have like a hundred pairs of shoes!”

  “No I don’t. I have three hundred and thirteen,” she said proudly.

  “How can you afford all this stuff?” Christina asked as she picked up a red bottom heel.

  “Jonathan,” Melissa said, realizing that her golden goose had finally laid its golden egg. “Why do I feel like my entire world has just exploded into a million little pieces?” She asked, getting back into bed and resting her head on an oversized goose down pillow.

  “Love does that to people,” Christina said, picking up a Black Peep Toe Chanel pump and trying it on. “That’s why I avoid it.”

  “You avoid it because you suck at it – just like me,” Melissa pointed out.

  Christina turned to face her. “I do not suck at anything. I simply have a plethora of choices so why choose? And love… love is like Prince charming - they only exist in fairytales.” She sat down on the bed next to her and patted her leg. “And the Lifetime channel. But, the quicker you realize that, the sooner you’ll stop getting your heart broken.” She put the shoe back, upset that it didn’t fit her.

  Melissa thought about Christina’s statement for a moment. Love did suck. And sadly, she loved being in love. But, she believed that she wasn’t the only woman left in New York that still believed in fairytales. Then again, was she? Was she the only girl left in the world who still believed love was like a John Hughes movie? There was nothing wrong with having a deep rooted fantasy that would include an oversized boom box, a misunderstood hot looking guy and a really cool soundtrack. Was there?

  Suddenly, there was another knock at Melissa’s front door.

  “You want me to get that?” Christina asked.

  “No. it’s probably the Angel of death coming to collect,” Melissa said, walking out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with tears streaming down her face.

  “What happened?”

  “The Angel of death,” Melissa said, handing Christina a letter.

  “Oh. It’s an eviction notice,” Christina said, as she read it. “Don’t worry,” she said, handing the letter back to Melissa. Then she walked over to Melissa’s makeup table and began picking at imaginary lint on her shirt. “You can always stay with me.”

  Melissa squeamishly pictured Christina’s apartment in Queens and instantly preferred to be homeless. “That’s so sweet of you but I have to figure this out for myself.”

  “Have you given any more thought about designing your shoe line?” Christina suggested.

  “Oh, yeah that was my first thought right after Jonathan ripped my heart out for the entire New York Area to witness,” Melissa said, although the idea wasn’t half bad. The timing however, was horrible. “My life is over Christina. How am I supposed to design a shoe line if I can’t even show my face around town and have less than thirty days to find a new place to live?”

  “That’s exactly why you should consider it. You won’t have any distractions and when you become the worlds’ top shoe designer you can tell Jonathan and the entire world to kiss your Latin ass,” Christina said, snapping his fingers as if she had come up with the greatest idea ever.

  Melissa knew that she was right. Now was a perfect time as any to design her shoe line. Creating it was something that she had wanted to do since her Nana surprised her with her very first pair of shiny, red heels. She was only twelve years old but even then, shoes had a way of making her feel powerful. Melissa loved those heels. She thought they were the prettiest and the most grown up piece of clothing she owned. Every day, she begged her mother to let her wear them to school. Of course, she said no every single time. So, Melissa would sit in her classes, counting the minutes until she could get home from school so that she could wear them.

  She became so obsessed with heels that she’d sit up in her room sketching shoe designs for hours. Then, on the weekends, when she would go to her Nanas’ house, together they would bring Melissa’s sketches to life. Nana would buy used heels from the Salvation Army and Melissa would embellish them with studs, crystals, even decoupage them with unbelievably beautiful fabric to turn the heels into Melissa’s very own creation.

  Her Nana was also the only one who knew how much Melissa wanted to become a shoe designer. It was a secret Melissa kept from her entire family, especially her mother who would barrage Melissa into finding a hardworking man and settle down. She remembered that even when she got a scholarship to attend college, her mother sneered at her and told her she was wasting her time. Then right before she graduated, her Nana died and with it, her shoe dreams. Melissa hasn’t sketched a shoe design since. “With everything going on in my life, I’d be lucky to make it through this week let alone fashion week,” Melissa finally said, waking up from a memory that had been long lost in her head. “Plus, I don’t have the money or the connections.”

  “Be thankful for what you do have,” Christina said, peeking inside the cupcake box. It took a lot of self-control not to devour at least one of those cupcakes but Christina was a fitness freak and wouldn’t compromise all her hard work in the gym.

  “What do I have? Enlighten me,” Melissa said, standing up and spreading her arms out while spinning around the room.

  “Perky breasts and that killer Latin ass,” Christina concluded, dipping her finger in vanilla frosting and tasting it.

  “Yeah, I’m sure the landlord would be more than thrilled to take my body payment,” Melissa grumbled. “Seriously, I can’t even afford you anymore.”

  “You couldn’t afford me two sessions ago,” Christina said casually.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Christina said, trying not to make a big deal about it. Then she noticed the concern in Melissa’s face. “Your check bounced last week. But seriously, don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh my God! Really? I’ll pay you as soon as I get paid.” Melissa couldn’t believe what she just heard. This had never happened before. First the message from the bank, then the cop and now this. She had to find out what was going on and fast.

  “No Prob,” Christina said. “I know where you live.”

  “I’m truly screwed,” Melissa said, biting into a Peanut Butter Cupcake.

  “If I were you I’d get a sugar daddy. But first, you have to do something about that hair.”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” Melissa screamed, running to the bathroom mirror. It doesn’t look that bad, she thought to herself. Then again, s
he hadn’t a haircut in weeks. She had just been too busy with all the wedding planning. However, with all the recent events, she had all the time in the world. “You know what I need?” She asked, walking back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Botox?” Christina exclaimed in true Christina fashion. Melissa knew that fixing her problems with a margarita and volunteer surgery would have worked in the past but today she didn’t feel up to doing anything except staying home in her pajamas, crying and eating herself to a carb state of glory.

  “I was going to say a sharp blade and a good vein but that works too,” she sighed. “I’m so over men.”

  “Ooh are you contemplating going to the other side? I’d love to see you have a Katy Perry moment,” Christina squealed as she plopped down next to Melissa.

  “No. What I think I’m having is a Brittany moment.”

  “Hmm. Before or after Justin?”

  “After. Definitely after.”

  “Oh shit. You need more help than I thought.”

  Melissa was serious about not having anything to do with men. The last two years of living with Jonathan had proven she couldn’t even keep a man. She was going to be an old, fat and lonely woman.

  “Oh my! Say it isn’t so,” Christina squealed.

  “What?”

  Christina pulled Melissa’s wedding dress from the closet and dangled it in front of Melissa’s face. “Is this it?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Wow. It’s so beautiful. Have you worn it?”

  “No.”

  “You’re a horrible liar!” she said exposing the zipper Melissa forgot to zip the last time she wore it. Who could blame her for wanting to wear it? If she could, Melissa would wear all day for no particular reason other than the fact that she felt like a princess when she wore it.

  “Who cares? There’s not going to be a wedding. Remember?” Melissa said, turning over in bed and pulling the covers over her head. She knew that Christina was standing over her, staring her down. “I only wore it once,” she said from under the comforter.

  “Oh really?” Christina asked, not believing her.

  “Five times! I’ve worn it five times,” Melissa admitted before sitting up in bed. “It’s just a dress.”

  “To someone else, Yes. To you it’s what could have been and that’s not healthy. You’re going to have to do something with it,” Christina said as she put the dress back in the closet.

  “Like what? I paid a lot of money for that dress. And it’s been less than twenty four hours since I caught my fiancé cheating on me. Do you really expect me to get over it that quickly?”

  “You mean Jonathan paid a lot of money and Yes. There’s nothing you can do about it.” Christina put the dress against her clothes and twirled around the bedroom. “What’s done is done and the longer you sit around moping and eating like a pig the faster you’ll end up sitting home fat and alone crocheting sweaters for your ten cats.”

  Fat, lonely, and ten cats? Oh well, at least she still had the fab shoes.

  “You couldn’t give me something cuter like a spider monkey?” Melissa pined.

  “Joke now but you will see,” Christina said, dismissing Melissa with a slight wave of his wrist and then suddenly her eyes lit up. “Hey why don’t you sell the dress? You could get a fortune!”

  “No way!” Melissa screamed, grabbing the dress and putting it back in the closet. “Oh no!” Melissa said, bewildered. “I have to cancel everything, the flowers, the Cinderella coach, the DJ, the limo for the wedding party and the hall. I can’t do this. I can’t face all those people,” she said, the tears streaming down her face.

  “I’d have a phone service make all those calls for you,” Christina suggested.

  “A phone service?”

  “Yeah, it’s perfect. I once used one to make appointments for my interviews after I graduated from college.”

  “That’s so impersonal.”

  “Who cares? It gets the boring task out of the way. Plus, weren’t most of the people invited Jonathans’ friends so, why do you give a shit if they hear it from you or not,” Christina said.

  Whether she used a service or not, the idea that her fairy tale wedding was over made Melissa want to crawl under a rock. How was she supposed to tell her mother that her little girl was not only single again but pregnant with the child of a two-timing prick who was wanted by the FBI?

  Christina’s cell phone began to play a terrible acoustic version of Hit me baby one more time. “OMG! Get dressed! We’re going to a party.”

  Melissa wasn’t surprised by Christina’s emphatic pronouncement. She found excuses to celebrate no matter how small or inconsequential. It’s what made her who she was. Next to Angie, he was her next favorite person. “There aren’t shoes in the world that would make this look sexy,” she said, signaling to her bathrobe. “And it’s Monday? Who throws a party on a Monday?”

  “Rich people.”

  “But it’s still so early.”

  “I don’t know about you but spending the rest of the night reenacting an episode from Melrose Place is not my idea of a good time. And it’s not just any party,” Christina insisted. “I just got invited to this super exclusive private event at SPIN.”

  “You got that from that one little beep?” Melissa stood up and extended her hand. “Can I have your phone? Mine just says things like You Suck and Get a life.”

  Christina laughed. ‘I’ll find you something really divine to wear.”

  “Okay but nothing glittery,” Melissa yelled out to her as she snuck into the kitchen to steal a chocolate cupcake. As soon as she bit into it, she could feel the creamy chocolate goodness create a comfortable home for itself in her thighs. “Or anything that shows off my legs,” Melissa added.

  Christina continued explaining to Melissa from the bedroom, that SPIN was the newest and hottest club on the island. “You could easily find half of young Hollywood getting wasted there while regular people like us, merely dream of it.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be much fun,” Melissa said, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face. It did sound like a great place to go under normal circumstances but not today. “Plus, I can’t wear heels remember?” She reminded Christina.

  “We’ll get to that later. Right now you need to change out of that,” she said, walking into the kitchen and pointing to Melissa’s robe. “And get your ass in some workout gear.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did you really think I was going to let you fill up on all that nasty sugar, butter and all those carbs and then not make you burn it off?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Christina Cruz does not kid around. Now hop to it,” she said, pulling Melissa back inside the bedroom so she could change into workout gear.

  “I can’t work out because I have a sprained ankle,” Melissa quickly tried to get herself out of working out.

  “Girl, you don’t need an ankle to crunch, curl, pop and swirl!” She said, snapping her fingers again.

  Oh damn.

  7

  Dressed in a tweed shift dress, black cardigan and oversized black sunglasses, Angie sat in the back of the city cab as it drove through a part of town that she had never visited. But her supply was running low and she really needed to stock up. The usual person whom she would buy her methamphetamines from had been arrested by the cops a week ago. So, she had no choice.

  Armed with five hundred dollars in cash, she gave the cabbie the address that her supplier had given her over the phone and twenty minutes later, they were cruising down one of the scariest parts in Manhattan, Harlem. Angie wasn’t worried though, she had lived through much worse. She just wanted to get it over with so that she could go on with her day.

  The cab finally pulled up to a seemingly abandoned house with uncut grass in the front yard and a metal, chain link fence. A brown pit bull, tied to a tree in the middle of the yard, with visible ribs and tore skin around the face, yelled
feverishly at them. Angie leaned into the glass divider and told the driver to keep the meter running. He gave her a dirty look. So, she handed him a fifty dollar bill, “There’s more where that came from. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  “Fine by me lady. It’s your life.” Even in broken English the statement rang true. It was her life. But the irony in that statement did not deter her.

  Being there, in that neighborhood, reminded Angie of the time when she was fifteen years old, still living in the south and still very much a naïve girl. She had to walk through a neighborhood just like this every day after school. And every day, she was scared that she wouldn’t make it home alive. The druggies, prostitutes, and the dealers that enabled them, were always harassing her. Then, one day, a real good looking guy driving a pimped out Cadillac was driving through the same neighborhood. He had seen the drug dealer harassing Angie. So, he parked his car, got out and pulled a gun on that drug dealer. “If you ever bother her again I’ll kill you,” he told the dealer. Immediately, he became Angie’s knight in shining armor.

  Before that day, the guy had never existed. But after that day, he was very present in Angie’s life. For weeks, he’d pick her up after school and take her to a nice diner in town and they would talk for hours. His name was Nick and he told her he was a Corporate Recruiter. She didn’t know it then, but eventually she found out that he really was a recruiter, a recruiter of young girls.

  Eventually, their talking turned into kissing and kissing turned into Angie losing her virginity. What she didn’t realize was that he had planned this from the beginning. After he had enough of her, he manipulated her into doing drugs with him. When he got tired of partying with her, he then tried to sell her off. That’s when Angie ran away and never looked back.