Secrets of a Shoe Addict (13 page)

Tiffany raised her eyebrows. “Indeed. I bet a psychologist could have a field day with this.”

“Okay, fine, but that’s not what we’re supposed to be concentrating on right now,” Sandra said, only half joking, because she was seriously disconcerted that she’d named her alter ego after her childhood alter ego and hadn’t even realized it or all the deeply subconscious implications that went along with it. Wow. In the composite picture she’d made, she’d even given Penelope long blond 1980s Farrah Fawcett hair.

Just like Penelope Pitstop’s.

And Tiffany’s, at the time.

“Anyway,” she finished. “It’s evidently a good way to exorcize long-held demons, as well. So frankly, it’s all win-win.”

“What do you think, Abbey?” Tiffany asked.

Abbey hesitated. Then said, “Do I seem more like a Brandee, with two
e
’s, or a Suzi with an
i
?”

That released the tension in the room—or at least the tension Sandra was feeling—and everyone laughed.

“Brandee, with two
e
’s,” Tiffany said. “No doubt.”

“Absolutely,” Sandra agreed.

“I
love
the idea of having an alias,” Loreen said excitedly. “When I was little, I used to tell people my name was Mimi. Don’t ask me why—I have no idea. But I think that’s who I’ll be: Mimi.”

“I’m going to be Crystal,” Tiffany said definitively. “Because I can’t afford diamonds.”

“And because you always drank Crystal Light?” Sandra suggested. It was weak, but she lobbed it out there anyway. Plus, it was true.

Tiffany laughed. “Maybe so. It’s good to have a deep, dark reason for things.”

“We all do, I guess,” Sandra said, meaning it more than she could express. “So, with that in mind, let me show you the picture I Photoshopped of Penelope. . . .”

Tiffany got Charlie’s laptop, and Sandra showed them Penelope as well as the various chat rooms where they could go to drum up business. She was amazed at the level of enthusiasm the women were demonstrating—even Abbey, who seemed to have more questions about the privacy and profit margin than the technique of phone sex. Interesting.

They talked through two hours and two bottles of wine, plus an entire sheet of the fabulous crescent roll cream cheese veggie squares Loreen had made. Sandra feared she’d been solely responsible for the consumption of at least half of them.

As they were wrapping up for the night, Loreen asked, “So . . . when do we meet again? Next week?”

“Oh! Yes! Can you do that?” Tiffany asked Sandra.

Sandra was surprised. She’d thought this was a one-off thing, but she’d be glad to have something social to do. “Yes, I guess—”

“Good, because I’m sure we’re going to have more questions then,” Loreen said.

“Probably a lot of them,” Tiffany added.

Loreen nodded and looked back to Sandra. “Plus, aren’t we going to need some sort of advanced training once we get the basics down?”

“There could be unexpected situations arising,” Abbey added with a small smile.

Sandra laughed, though it wasn’t clear if the other two got the joke. “You can bet on that.”

“No,” Loreen said, “no betting. Please. That’s how I got into this mess in the first place. Cash advance after cash advance after cash advance.” She shuddered visibly.

“And there was my shopping,” Tiffany agreed.

Sandra looked at her sister and felt surprise, not for the first time this week. First, she couldn’t believe Tiffany had gotten into trouble shopping too much, of all things. But second, it was nothing short of amazing that Tiffany had agreed to this phone sex thing at all, especially when Sandra considered how the conversation had gone when she’d suggested it to her.

That she had now turned it into a sort of Tupperware party among her friends was astonishing.

And really cool. Sandra was enjoying it. She’d really missed having girlfriends to shoot the bull with.

Last year, her Shoe Addicts Anonymous meetings had begun as a way to get out of the house and stop being such a hermit, but they had ended up showing Sandra just how very important it was to have women friends.

When it had turned into a business, selling Phillipe Carfagni’s shoe designs, that had been great, but somewhere along the way, the work had taken over the social hours.

Now they rarely had time to get together. Helene was a single
mother who really seemed to prefer baby stuff to social stuff; Lorna was doing a lot of traveling to their various accounts to sell the new designs so they could save money by not paying a whole sales team; and Joss had gone and fallen in love with Phillipe and was living in Italy, serving as his inspiration and as the business’s Web mistress.

Sometimes Sandra missed the old days so much, she almost wished they’d never started the business. But she’d never admit that out loud.

But now maybe she’d have something to fill that gap. Simply by instructing these women on the secrets of being a phone sex operator, a job she knew inside out (ironically, from the time when she was most agoraphobic and
never
socialized).

“You really make it sound doable, Sandra,” Loreen said, sounding hopeful but looking nervous. “I’m willing to try this. But I don’t know if I have your confidence. I’m afraid I’ll choke when it comes time to perform.”

Sandra swallowed the urge to say,
Me? Confident? Get real!
Because she liked the idea so much, she didn’t want to disillusion them. Plus, obviously, it would have been counterproductive. Instead she said, truthfully, “Everyone’s nervous at first. At least, I was. But as long as you remind yourself that the person on the other end of the line can’t see you, you can just”—she shrugged—“ham it up.”

Loreen sat back and sipped her wine. “You’re going to have to pony up a lot more of your secrets next week,” she said, eyeing Sandra like she was holding out.
“The secrets of a shoe addict.”
She laughed. “That can be our code.
Phone sex
sounds so tawdry. Though I’m thinking maybe I can use the phone sex tips if I ever start dating again.”

“You should
see
Sandra’s boyfriends,” Tiffany said with what
sounded like disbelief that Sandra could score a boyfriend. “At least the one I met a few months ago. Gorgeous.”

Sandra didn’t correct her. Not yet. She liked—in fact, she was
amazed by
—this perception of her.

“Are you still with him?” Tiffany asked Sandra. “What was his name?”

“I think you mean Mike,” Sandra said, trying to think—quickly—how to play this, since she not only wasn’t “still with” Mike, but it turned out she never had been. “No, it didn’t work out. I’m free as a bird right now.”

“So this gorgeous hunk is out there, available?” Loreen joked.

Tiffany’s face grew serious, with that expression she always had when she was concocting a plan. “You know, Charlie’s brother is in the process of getting a divorce—”

“Oh, good Lord,
Al
?” Sandra said, too quickly. Then, conscious that she might insult Tiffany if she accidentally revealed how much she
loathed
Charlie and his family, she added, “I think ‘in the process of getting a divorce’ is a danger zone. There’s always the possibility of a reconciliation.”

Tiffany considered. “I guess I see what you mean.”

“Have you tried online dating?” Loreen asked Sandra. “I know a few people who have had really good luck with Match-dot-com.”

“Did they meet normal, straight guys?” Sandra asked, cautious about men since Mike.

“Absolutely. A lot of executives and professionals are using online dating to meet people now because they don’t have the time or presumably the stomach to go out trolling the bar scene.” Loreen shuddered. “I’d rather be single forever.”

“So would you do Match-dot-com or something like that?” Sandra
asked, intrigued. “Based on what you’ve seen. Or is it something that’s working for other people but you wouldn’t do it yourself?”

Loreen looked at her evenly, considering. “If you’re asking if I’d recommend it, based on what I’ve seen, yes. I don’t know anyone who’s met a George Clooney clone, but would you want to? My friends have met nice, reliable, professional guys with good jobs and health insurance, and occasionally even a sense of humor.”

“So you’d do it,” Sandra said.

“Yes.” Loreen nodded. “Yes, I would. In fact, I might. Soon.”

“As long as you’re over Robert,” Tiffany said. “Like we just said, the divorce process is a danger zone.”

Loreen’s face went pink. “Robert and I are not getting back together. And anyway, I didn’t say I was going to do it tonight. For now, I’m just planning on having sex with strangers.”

Sandra noticed that Abbey watched all of this with a serene but amused expression. It was curious how she seemed to be detached from the others, yet not disdainful or disapproving.

At least it didn’t seem like she was.

Now Abbey spoke up. “You know, I thought Robert was watching you pretty intently during Field Day last month. He didn’t seem as disinterested as you seem to think.”

Loreen inhaled sharply. “Really? I didn’t even notice. . . .” Unconsciously, it seemed, she raised a hand to her cheek. Then, as if shaking the notion off, she said, “Why are we even talking about this? The divorce is final next month. There’s no point.”

“Robert
is
a great guy,” Tiffany said with conviction. “Believe me, they are few and far between. Are you sure you want to give that up?”

Loreen’s expression faltered, slipping into a moment of sadness before returning to normal. “I don’t think it’s entirely up to me.”

“If you have doubts, maybe you should talk to him before it’s too late,” Sandra said, unable to stop herself from giving what seemed like obvious advice, even though she was the last person in the world to speak with authority on the subject of romance. “Not that I know the situation or anything.”

“It’s
always
best to do what you can before you
know
it’s too late,” Abbey agreed. “Just in case there’s a chance.”

“There’s no chance,” Loreen said, calmly but firmly. “The relationship is like shredded paper at this point. I don’t think we could find all the pieces to put it back together even if we both tried.”

“I understand that,” Abbey said.

“Well,
I
don’t,” Tiffany said. “The old pieces didn’t work that well anyway. Start with a brand-new clean sheet of paper.”

“When you’re out of paper, you’re out of paper,” Loreen said, stretching the metaphor a little too thin. “Am I right, Sandra?”

Sandra pressed her lips together. She didn’t believe love was gone until both people felt nothing, but what did she know? She’d never been married; she’d never even had a real long-term relationship. So she could hardly speak with authority to any of this. “So . . . switch to card stock? . . .”

“Ha!” Tiffany clapped her hands. “Perfect! It’s stronger anyway!”

“Let’s change the subject,” Loreen said. “Next week? How about Monday, so we don’t have to wait a whole week to get moving on this.”

“Good idea,” Tiffany agreed.

“Same place, or do you want to come to my house?” Loreen glanced at Abbey. “Or yours?”

“I’m not sure this is the kind of discussion that should take place there,” Abbey said with a wan smile.

“Oh.” Loreen’s face went pink. “Right. Obviously. So what do you think, Tiffany? Monday? My place?”

“Works for me,” Tiffany said. “Sandra?”

“You’ll have to tell me how to get there, but sure.”

“I’ll pick you up,” Tiffany said. “It’s settled.”

Sandra didn’t object, regardless of the fact that she felt out of her league. It was enough, for now, that they all believed she was some sort of smart, experienced woman who knew the Ways of Men.

They’d learn the truth later, no doubt.

Chapter
        
8
   

L
oreen and Abbey’s perception of Sandra as some sort of sex goddess continued to flatter Sandra. It was the first time anyone had
ever
thought she might have the edge over Tiffany for
any
reason.

Tiffany still seemed doubtful about Sandra.

And maybe she was right.