Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  Hillary moved closer. “That’s what I always liked about you, Kent. You understand women. If you don’t have any pressing engagements, let’s go to my place. You can follow me in your car. We can have a really nice dinner on the deck. My housekeeper ismy housekeeper if you know what I mean. As an added plus, she doesn’t speak a word of English. It’s a good thing I’m fluent in French. My husband has his own valet, who takes care of him. He also travels with him.” She looked up expectantly to see Kent’s reaction.

  “What are we waiting for? We have three years of catching up to do.” He tossed some of Heather’s money on the table. He wondered if his own eyes looked as hungry as Hillary’s. Probably so.

  He thought about his game plan on the drive to Hillary’s house. They’d drink. A lot. They’d have sex, then when Hillary was asleep, he’d prowl through the rooms to find what he wanted. The gizmo that would give him the ability to disarm Rosalie’s alarm system. He knew he wouldn’t have any trouble picking the locks. He’d done it before. Of course the ideal scenario would be for Hillary to give him a tour of her husband’s wares. If he remembered correctly, she knew each time a patent came out, what it was for, and how it was used. It was called, according to Hillary, staying one jump ahead of her husband.

  She was such a bitch. A rich, needy bitch.

  “Are you sure that you don’t mind going shopping with me, Vickie? I really need new clothes. Nothing fits because I’ve dropped twenty-six pounds. And it’s been so long since I’ve bought…you know…pretty stuff. You have such good taste. I invariably buy the wrong thing, and Luna Mae gets after me telling me I look like aschlump. I don’t even know what aschlump is, but I assume it’s nothing good. I want some bright colors, some fine material. Nothingserviceable. I’m sick and tired of brown, gray and black! I want to lighten up my life. And, if we have time, can we go to that new drop-in spa in the mall? You don’t even need an appointment. I saw a television commercial where they pamper you and even serve you wine.”

  “Great idea! I’m game. Grab your checkbook, your credit cards, and let’s go!”

  Rosie was like a giddy schoolgirl when she hooked her arm with Vickie’s as they strolled into the mall forty minutes later.

  “High-end stores or low-end?” Vickie asked, her eyes twinkling.

  “Definitely high-end. I’ve got plenty of plastic. I want some of everything from the skin out.”

  “Gotcha! Victoria’s Secret for the undies! They have some great animal-print underwear. Are we looking for sexy?”

  “Absolutely! By the way, I’m buying all this stuff forme. I want things that will make me feel good when I put them on. Me. This is all about me so don’t read anything into this shopping spree that isn’t there. I know you’re going to buy stuff for what’s-his-name. I don’t have a what’s-his-name in my life, just me.”

  Vickie burst out laughing. “What’s-his-name is Calvin and he does have a passion for black lace. I kind of like it myself.”

  The women were as thorough as scavengers as they ripped through the pink store.

  Rosie did a lot of blushing and stammering as she picked out gossamer bras and skimpy bikini underwear. Kent had made fun of her white cotton underwear. She picked out every color there was except white. She’d blinked at the animal-print thongs, wondering how in the world one adjusted to something like that. Maybe when she was down to her desired size eight, she’d try one just for fun.

  Seven-hundred and forty dollars later, Rosie left the store with bulging pink and white striped bags. “I never spent so much money on underwear in my life!”

  “Didn’t it feel good?” Vickie asked.

  Rosie laughed. “Oh, yeahhhh,” she drawled.

  “Next stop, Nordstroms. I have a personal shopper. All we have to do is ask for her, she’ll take us to a small sitting room, serve us wine while we wait for her to bring us things we might want to buy. It’s a grand experience. It’s all about service. Be careful, Rosie, you can get hooked on shopping. By the way, when was the last time you went shopping?”

  “A hundred years ago. I’ve been shopping through catalogs. Because of my size, my choices were limited. Okay, okay, my catalog shopping days are over.”

  Vickie’s personal shopper, whose name was Ann Marie, turned out to be a small, compact woman who reminded Rosie of a human dynamo. As Vickie explained what they wanted, Ann Marie scribbled on a small notepad. Then she ushered them to a small private sitting room with deep, comfortable chairs. She herself brought them wine in fine crystal glasses before she left the room to do Vickie’s bidding. Soft music filled the room.

  Vickie held out her glass to clink it against Rosie’s glass. “To you, my friend,” Vickie said. “For having the good sense to make life-altering changes. I am so proud of you, Rosie.”

  Rosie smiled. “One step at a time. I’ll get there, but it’s going to take time. This is one step on the road to me getting there. Thanks for being such a good friend, Vickie.”

  “Hey, you’ve been a good friend to me, too. My money is on you. Iknow you can succeed in whatever you want to do.”

  They talked then, two old friends, of many things, Vickie’s trip to Paris, Luna Mae’s senior moments, and the crucial gossip, which concerned Jack Silver’s bachelor eligibility.

  Rosie leaned forward. “Sometimes I dream about him. Really good juicy dreams. I like him, Vickie.”

  “I know you do. You know what else, I think he likes you, too. I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. Stop blushing, Rosie.”

  Rosie was saved from a reply when Ann Marie appeared with a clothing rack stuffed with clothes every color of the rainbow. There were skirts, blouses, dresses, suits, slacks and sweaters, purses, scarves, and shoes.

  Rosie gave herself up to the two women as she tried on one outfit after another, listening to what matched with what and what jacket could be worn with slacks or a skirt. She enjoyed every minute of this unique shopping experience. Within minutes her mantra was, “I’ll take it!” Three hours later, Rosie plopped down on the chair and sighed. She had no idea how much money she’d just spent and she suddenly realized she didn’t care. She lovedeverything.

  “Wise choices, Rosie,” Ann Marie said. “And the choices were all yours. Everything is stunning. Wear it all in good health.”

  Rosie jumped up, held out her credit card, and grinned from ear to ear. Turning to Vickie, she said, “And, they deliver once everything is altered. I’m going to put this store’s number on my speed dial.”

  “Okay, girl, this is all about you!” Vickie said. “It’s about time. Now I think it’s time to hit the Paradise Spa so we can get ourselves pampered a little more. Shopping is so exhausting!”

  Rosie pocketed the charge receipt, slid her credit card back into her wallet. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  It was six o’clock when the two women exited the Paradise Spa. Both had new hairstyles, new makeup, French manicures, and bright red pedicures.

  “I feel like a million bucks,” Vickie said.

  Rosie wanted to say she felt like $302 million, but she didn’t. Instead, she laughed and couldn’t stop until Vickie clapped her on the back. Even then she couldn’t stop. Finally, she gasped, “For the first time in my life, it really is all about me. I love it, love it, love it!”

  “I can’t believe this!” Rosie said in stunned surprise to Vickie and Luna Mae. “We’re actually caught up and have time on our hands. I’ll tell you something else that’s hard for me to believe. It’s Labor Day weekend. Where has the time gone? First it was June, then July, and then those dog days of August, and now here we are in September. Time is moving entirely too fast.” She was grumbling and didn’t know why. Yes, she did know why. Vickie was flying off to Parisagain, and Luna Mae was going somewhere foranother NASCAR race. She was going to be alone with Buddy.Again.

  Maybe she should think about getting a hobby. Running and exercising took up just so much time. Shopping! She could go shopping again.

&nb
sp; “You sound…disgruntled,” Vickie said, concerned. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I go to Paris? I’ll stay if you want me to, Rosie.”

  Rosie looked across the massive worktable at her best friend. “Don’t be silly. I was just wondering what I was going to do with myself for four long days. I think I’ll go shopping. I think I need a hot pink blouse to go with that tan suit I bought. It will be a new experience shopping by myself. I’m driving you to the airport, so we should be on our way.”

  “Don’t look at me that way, Missy. I’m not giving up my weekend. Curly is waiting for me. I might give him my answer this weekend. I’m thinking more and more that I want to be married.”

  Rosie shook her head. “Shut up, Luna Mae. I don’t want to hear that married stuff. Those race car guys are just a bunch of mooches. They’re after your money. Why can’t you see that?”

  Luna Mae plopped her bony hands on her skinny hips. Her chest heaved with indignation. “Maybe for the same reason you couldn’t see it yourself four years ago. Don’t be telling me what to do, Missy.”

  “Luna Mae, you told me yourself that Curly person hit you up for a loan after you got back from your last road trip. Did he pay you back? No, he didn’t. The man doesn’t even have a car, for God’s sake. He rides a scooter. Drunk driving, that’s why. You admitted it to me. I don’t want you to make a mistake like I did.”

  Today, Luna Mae was resplendent in a shimmery, silver jumpsuit with bright red lightning bolts scattered over it along with seven different zippered pockets. Today, the pockets were full.

  Luna Mae huffed and puffed as she paced the room. “I’m going to tell you what you told me, mind your own damn business. If I make a mistake, it will be my mistake, and I won’t have anyone to blame but myself.”

  “He lives in a rented trailer, Luna Mae, with six other men. He doesn’t even have a bed and sleeps in a sleeping bag. Don’t deny it. You told me so yourself. And, he’s ten years younger than you are. He doesn’t have a pot to spit in. Tell me, where’s the romance here? You’re getting old, Luna Mae, and I don’t want some roustabout taking advantage of you.”

  Vickie moved toward the door. World War III was about to break out. She could see it on both women’s faces. Rosie was afraid Luna Mae was going to leave her, and she would be totally alone. Again. Just like when her parents had died, and she’d homed in on Kent. She herself would be getting married soon. Things would change again for her and Rosie. This time, though, she had to agree with Rosie. And she said so.

  “That’s it! That’s it! I’m out of here. I’ll see you on Tuesday. Then again, maybe I won’t see you on Tuesday,” Luna Mae said coldly.

  “Luna Mae!” Rosie screeched. But the housekeeper was gone, the door slamming so hard, the pane of glass rattled. Rosie viewed it with alarm. “I’m just trying to help you!” she screeched again.

  Vickie leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed against her chest. “Did you listen, Rosie? If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t think she’ll go through with any kind of wedding plans. She’s feeling good right now that she met up with all her old friends, and they remembered her. Let her enjoy this bit of happiness. Luna Mae has a lot of common sense. When push comes to shove, she’ll do the right thing. If she doesn’t, then oh well.” Vickie shrugged dramatically. “I think we should head for the airport. The lines are really long these days, and I don’t want to miss my flight. You’re sure it’s okay for me to go?”

  Rosie worked her facial muscles into a smile. “Of course it’s okay. Buddy and I will be just fine. I’ve got a pile of new books to read, a few television shows to catch up on. After I drop you off, I’m going shopping for that blouse. I probably won’t even miss you guys,” she lied.

  “Okay, as long as you’re sure. Let’s rock and roll, partner!”

  It was almost six o’clock when Rosie parked the car outside her garage. She’d found the hot pink blouse she’d wanted but had kept on shopping, focusing this time on sportier clothes. The back of the van was filled with boxes, bags, and garment bags. She didn’t want to think about all the money she’d spent on herself…again. If she continued to lose weight, she would either have to get all the clothes she’d bought today and on her shopping spree with Vickie altered, or she’d have to go shopping again. Neither thought struck her as unpleasant.

  It took her three trips to carry her purchases into the house, Buddy poking and sniffing at the bags to see if there was anything for him. There was, a squeak toy that made a barking sound and a package of bacon-flavored chewies. His tail swishing importantly, the big dog carried his toy and chew over to the carpet by the sink, lay down, and proceeded to bite into the toy.

  Rosie laughed. Buddy’s idea of playing with a toy was getting the squeak mechanism out, then he lost interest in the toy. She was careful to lock the door and set the alarm before she carried the bags and boxes upstairs. All day long she’d had the feeling someone was watching her, following her as she went from store to store. But each time she stopped to look over her shoulder, there was no one who appeared to be watching or following her. In other words, no sign of Kent. Even so, the itch between her shoulder blades wouldn’t go away. In fact, it was still with her. Hence the rush to get home to Buddy, who she knew would protect her with his last breath, and the ultrasophisticated, state-of-the-art alarm system she’d had upgraded when Kent left.

  Rosie ripped at the bags and boxes, holding up each new article of clothing, folding it and stacking it in neat piles on her bed. Should she or shouldn’t she strip down and try on some of the things she’d bought? She frowned. She still felt uncomfortable looking at her nude body. When she showered, she turned on the water before stripping down so the mirror would be foggy. She knew she was a coward, but she didn’t care. She could, however, count the rolls of fat that still remained. She didn’tfeel as much like a washboard as she had the day of her anniversary. Her nine rolls of fat were down to three.

  Everything she’d bought today had either come off a table or rack. She was almost certain everything would fit and perhaps be a little roomy. She’d concentrated mostly on workout outfits and casual clothes. She did buy one fancy outfit, though. Capri pants with an elastic waist and a matching piqué top whose neckline, armholes, and hem were circled with appliquéd daisies. It was a top that was meant to be worn outside and not tucked in—it was an end-of-the-summer clearance sale item. At best, she might be able to wear it once or twice before the end of September. Now, if she were a true Southerner, she would never wear white after Labor Day.

  Maybe she’d wear one of the new outfits tomorrow morning when she ran. She was up to eight miles a day. But Jack was no longer running with her. It was just Buddy who kept her company. Jack didn’t know she was up to eight miles. He thought she was still at six. Tomorrow she was going to strive for the full ten. She was on her third pair of running shoes, too. Jack had drilled into her the importance of balance that would come from wearing good, solid running shoes. She’d bought two new pair today. She was saving the old ones but wasn’t sure why. Maybe because her blood, sweat, and tears were in those shoes.

  Buddy appeared in the doorway, his plastic food bowl clamped between his teeth. He set it down and barked. Rosie dropped to her knees to tussle with the big dog. They rolled over and over, with Rosie giggling and Buddy barking playfully. “Okay, I guess it is dinnertime. There was a time, Buddy, when I couldn’t wait one minute past six o’clock for dinner. Can you believe I no longer find food a must? Guess that means my stomach has shrunk, and that’s a good thing.” The black dog looked like he was listening intently. Rosie laughed again as she picked up the bowl. “Okay, time for dinner.

  Rosie continued to talk to Buddy as she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, where she fixed the dog’s food and prepared her own dinner. She ate a can of tuna, a garden salad, three crackers, and, for dessert, a wedge of melon. Her beverage was a glass of Diet Coke with a slice of lemon. She was entitled to a glass of red wine, but she liked to
save the wine for later, when she sat out on the upstairs verandah before going to bed. At that time she also smoked one cigarette. Jack said it was okay for now. Later, he didn’t want her to smoke any cigarettes at all, which was okay with her. Whatever it took to get her to her goal was okay. He’d made her promise, and she had. She could have all the black coffee she wanted. She wanted it. And she wanted a cigarette. Jack said whatever it took. This was what it was taking today.

  Rosie looked around, realizing how alone she was. Maybe being alone wasn’t such a bad thing. Once she’d thought she would die if she didn’t have someone to lean on. What a joke that was. If she’d ever actually tried to lean on Kent, she would have fallen to the ground. Better to stand on her own two feet and take care of whatever came her way. She was doing a good job, though. She was tough and hard.Luna Mae says I’m tootough and hard. Where in the hell is the happy medium? Will I ever find it?

  She needed to stop thinking along those lines. Vickie said she was dangerous when she thought too much. “Okay, Rosie, don’t think. Get up, clean up your mess, and take Buddy for his walk. Do stupid stuff,” she muttered to herself.

  Rosie hung up the dish towel just as Buddy offered a joyous bark before barreling over to her with the squeak from the toy clamped between his teeth. Rosie played the game. “You killed it!” Buddy barked again, his tail swishing furiously. “Okay, you know what to do with it.” Buddy picked up the squeak, trotted over to the sink, nosed the cabinet door open, and dropped the squeak into the trash can. Rosie clapped. “Now, fetch your leash.”

  As Rosie walked along, Buddy stopping every few minutes to sniff or lift his leg, it occurred to Rosie that she was doing exactly what Vickie had told her not to do. Jack had said the same thing. She was following a pattern she’d set up earlier. She was doing the same thing at the same time every day. The realization brought the itch back between her shoulder blades. Time to go home. Forty minutes early. Buddy howled his outrage at these strange doings, but allowed himself to be turned around. Rosie ran home, her sneakered feet flying over the hard concrete.