?I?m matchy-matchy now!? I exclaimed. ?You are a lifesaver!?
Paula let out a self-satisfied sigh. ?I know. And you don?t even know the half of it. I have the matching bag for you.?
She reached inside the closet and pulled out the purse. A lovely handbag that was large enough for my notebook, but sleek enough to belong to a media darling.
I sighed. ?Paula! It?s beautiful.?
?You know my thing about bags and shoes.?
I studied my reflection in the mirror, posing with the shoes and holding the handbag to me. ?I look like I can fake it, huh??
Paula smiled widely. ?Of course, girlfriend! Fake it ?til you make it.?
When I arrived at Gary Barramendi?s office, I was greeted by a receptionist, who had on a Dior suit and more expensive shoes than I did. Her honey-colored hair was pinned at the sides and down in the back, framing her round young face. She looked to be in her early twenties. She assured me she would let Gary know I had arrived and showed me to a waiting room.
The waiting room boasted huge windows with a glorious view of Alcatraz. There was a station with coffee, tea, and water in the corner of the room, and in the center were several high-back chairs near a table covered with magazines.
On the wall opposite the windows a full-length mirror reflected views of Alcatraz throughout the room. But instead of focusing me on the view, it focused me on the image of me.
I had forgotten to put breast pads inside my bra.
I pulled the door of the waiting room open and peeked out into the hallway. No trace of the receptionist or anyone else, but a ladies? room sign was prominent. I made a mad dash into the ladies? room and quickly pulled some tissues from a box on the marbled counter.
I folded a few sheets of tissue neatly and stuffed them into my bra. The result gave me square breasts.
I pulled the tissues out and tried a single sheet on each side. The padding was not as noticeable. I prayed only one sheet would be enough.
I returned to the waiting room and fiddled with the magazines. The glossy rags depicted yachting, golfing, and travel that I could only dream about. I wondered about Gary?s clientele. Were they all that high-end?
I was totally out of my league. Each magazine I flipped through made me feel worse and worse, until I was a nervous wreck.
Women who had sat in this waiting room before me certainly didn?t have tissues stuffed in their bras. Or worse, girdles to hold in their postpartum bellies. And they definitely, definitely didn?t sit here in borrowed designer shoes with the accompanying handbag!
In the midst of my insecurity, the receptionist returned and ushered me into Gary?s office.
The office was enormous, with an astonishing view of the Bay Bridge. I felt as if I could lean out his window and touch traffic.
Gary Barramendi stood when I entered and offered me a warm handshake.
I was suddenly disarmed. He was young. Not what I had been expecting at all. He was very tall. Perhaps six-six. And extremely thin, bordering on gawky. He had dark bushy hair. His features appeared to be pushed together from all different angles and the left side of his face was almost completely different from the right side, yet everything was fused in the middle by his large nose.
Despite his unconventional face and stature, his smile was warm and his handshake firm and friendly, putting me at ease instantly.
?Hey. Gary Barramendi. Nice to meet you. I understand you know Bruce Chambers.?
?Yes.? I shook his hand with my best businesslike handshake and said, ?Kate Connolly, pleasure to meet you.?
Gary motioned to the sofa that hugged the left wall of the office. ?Have a seat.?
I was starting to feel confident. Gary wasn?t a grizzly! This was going to be a good meeting.
I was channeling my future self. Confident, smart, pro-active.
I was feeling great!
I placed my beautiful burgundy Ferragamo handbag on the couch and took a seat next to it. Suddenly a horrifying loud ripping sound reverberated around the room.
I froze.
The Velcro closing on my girdle had given way. The entire thing came undone under my shirt. The buttons on my silk blouse threatened to pop and the material between each button gapped hideously open.
I moaned and swayed, feeling a bit faint.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
