Helen shivered in the chill night air. Cal put his arm around her, but she still felt cold.
On Monday morning, Helen didn’t have to ask how the evening went. Christina’s face said it all. She looked tired and old. Her hair was limp and unwashed. She had an ugly zit on her chin. She had no ring on her finger.
Christina slammed down the phone on a good customer. She broke a nail. She yelled at the florist that the flowers weren’t fresh enough. And she rejected one would-be customer after another, like a Roman empress sending slaves to their deaths. Their fatal fashion errors ranged from cheap shoes to bad pants. Helen prayed for the day to be over. She was afraid no one would get into Juliana’s today.
But Brittney wafted through the green door at eleven, looking gorgeous in a red floral Diane vonFurstenberg dress and incredibly high Sergio Rossi heels. She put her dainty foot right in her pretty pink mouth.
“So, what was the surprise from Key West?” Brittney said in that caressing whisper. “Did Joe give you a ring? A tennis bracelet?”
“A goddamn cat,” Christina snarled. “All that for a fucking cat.”
Helen had never heard Christina use those words before.
“But you like cats,” Brittney said. “You’ve been saying you wanted one for months.”
“And Joe’s been saying he’s going to get me a ring for months. Instead I got a counterfeit cat.”
“It’s not a real cat?” Brittney looked confused. Helen did, too.
“Of course it’s real. But the dumb shit thought he was buying me a real Hemingway cat. You know about them?”
Helen and Brittney both shook their heads no.
“Ernest Hemingway had a bunch of six-toed cats at his house in Key West. The house is a museum now, and their descendants are still at the Hemingway Home. Those cats live like kings. They’re a tourist attraction.
“Joe paid fifty bucks to a guy in a Key West bar who supposedly sold him a real Hemingway cat. But the Hemingway cats aren’t for sale. The Hemingway Home doesn’t adopt out the kittens, either. I knew that. Everyone knew that except Joe, who was so stupid he bought a cat in a bar. I told him he was an idiot. I was so pissed, I grabbed the cat and left. Now I’m stuck with this counterfeit six-toed cat.”
“It could still be a real Hemingway cat,” Brittney said. “Maybe it’s one who climbed over the fence to meet her boyfriend.”
“Then she got screwed and abandoned, too,” Christina said. Tears glittered in her eyes.
“There, there, baby, don’t cry,” Brittney cooed. “You’ll get wrinkles. No man is worth that. I know you like cats. You’ve probably fallen in love with this one already. I bet you even have some pictures to show us.”
“Well, a few Polaroids,” Christina said, sniffling.
She pulled two out of her purse. At first Helen thought Christina was showing her a picture of a plush toy. The cat had a cuddly body that made her want to pick him up and hug him. His golden-green eyes were wise. His gray striped tail was majestic. The cat’s dignified manner contrasted with his comical fur coat. His gray tabby stripes were interrupted by big white patches, like blank spaces.
Then Helen saw the paws. That cat had the biggest front feet Helen had ever seen on any cat anywhere. On the front paws, the sixth toe stuck out like the thumb on a mitten.
“Those are the famous six toes,” Christina said. “I’m calling him Thumbs.”
“Big Foot would be more like it,” Helen said, then regretted it.
“He’s adorable,” Brittney squealed. “I love him. I wish I had him.”
“You do?” Christina said, surprised.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for Thumbs,” Brittney said.
“He’s not for sale,” Christina said.
“Two hundred,” Brittney said, briskly upping the bidding.
“Nope,” Christina said.
“I’ll give you five hundred,” Brittney said. “Cash.”
“I’ll get your five hundred some other way,” Christina said, rather nastily. “I’m keeping this cat.”
Helen wondered if Brittney had staged the cat auction to make Christina feel better. Or did this absolutely perfect female fall in love at first sight with the oddly imperfect feline?
For whatever reason, Christina now wanted Thumbs. “He’s the only man I’m sleeping with now,” she joked, “and he’s always faithful.”
That relationship would outlast Christina’s romance with Joe. Christina couldn’t stop seething over her disappointing evening. The more she talked it over with Brittney, the more determined she was to end it.
“I’m dumping that man,” she told Brittney. “I can’t wait any longer. It’s time I found someone who wants to marry me. I’m telling him tonight.”
Maybe Christina secretly hoped Joe would apologize and promise to marry her. Or maybe she wanted to dump him first, before he dumped her. But Christina didn’t even get that pleasure. Joe broke off their relationship— by cell phone—before noon. He told her good-bye. Christina told him to take a flying leap. It was a sad and sorry end to her hopes of yesterday.
Now all Christina wanted was revenge.
“I still have Joe’s Neiman Marcus charge card,” Christina said. “I’m going to call and charge a diamond tennis bracelet. I’ll get it one way or the other.”
“ ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,’ ” Brittney whispered. Helen thought she sounded a lot like Lorelei Lee, the character who first said those words.
Christina didn’t score the tennis bracelet. The crafty Joe had canceled that card.
“I’ve got one Joe doesn’t know I have,” Christina said. “It’s an old MasterCard. He thinks it was maxed out. But I know it still has two thousand dollars left. I was saving it for a rainy day. Well, it’s pouring now.”
“You go, girl,” Brittney said.
As a test, Christina tried for a five-hundred-dollar cash advance at the ATM across the street. She came back waving the money triumphantly.
“The spree is on. I have fifteen hundred left,” she said. “Now we have to decide how to spend it fast.”
“That won’t get you a decent tennis bracelet. Or even any serious clothes,” Brittney said sadly.
“I’m spending this on something more lasting than clothes,” Christina said.
Good, thought Helen. Finally, a sensible decision. “You could get a computer for that,” she said.
“Waste of time,” Christina said.
“Staring at the screen gives you heinous wrinkles,” Brittney said.
“I know! I’ll spend Joe’s money on my biopolymer treatments. I’ll have Doctor Mariposa fill in all my wrinkles. Joe can buy me a new man.”
“Brilliant!” Brittney said.
Dumb, Helen thought.
She listened distractedly as Christina called the doctor and made an appointment.
Brittney applauded. Helen was appalled. She’d learned a little more about biopolymer injections since she’d first met Brittney. They’d been featured in a TV expose. “You don’t want to do that,” Helen said. “That stuff is illegal. The doctor is injecting liquid silicone right into your face. If your body rejects it, you’ll have these lumps on your face. Haven’t you seen the stories about it on TV? It left those women horribly disfigured.”
“It worked for me,” Brittney said with a seductive hiss, like the snake in the Garden of Eden. Her flawless face was Christina’s temptation. She wanted to look as young and beautiful as Brittney.
“You are lucky, Brittney,” Helen said.
“So am I,” Christina said, defiantly. But Helen knew she was not.
Chapter 6
