Chapter 14
POPPY
I’m on my seventh try of level one thousand twenty-two of Candy Crush when I’m startled by a knock on the passenger window.
Jumping, I almost drop my phone, confused to see that, instead of a parking inspector telling me to move on like I’d presumed, there’s a blonde woman with huge sunglasses covering half her face, practically pressed up against the tinted glass, peering in at me.
“Hi, honey!” She waves at me, smiling broadly, voice muffled through the window.
Shit. It’s Lori. I hurry, grabbing my purse and shutting off the engine. I hop out of the car and meet her on the sidewalk.
“There’s that adorable ray of sunshine!” Lori exclaims, holding her arms out for me.
Fully aware of everyone nearby looking in our direction due to her sheer volume, my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I move closer, allowing her to sweep me up into a big hug, and it’s only then, in this woman’s arms, this woman I’ve never even properly met before, that I relax.
It’s like a hug from a mom. Not my mom, but someone’s mom, at least.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so happy to finally meet you, baby girl.” Lori pulls back, holding me at arm’s length, getting a good look at me. “And you are even prettier than that husband of mine yaps on and on about every single day. Look at you!”
My smile wavers, my cheeks heating under her shrewd assessment because I could be the most self-confident woman in the world, but when someone is standing in front of you, exclaiming to anyone who will listen just how pretty you are, there comes a point in time when it gets to be a little awkward.
“Okay, so you need a dress,” Lori says, moving next to me and wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“Yeah…” I shrug, suddenly worried again that I’m about to be fat-shamed out of yet another pretentious store.
“And heels.” Lori counts on her fingers, her long, perfectly manicured nails glistening beneath the sunshine. “A purse.” She eyes me playfully before purposely bumping her hip with mine as she says, “Panties.”
A nervous giggle escapes me.
“Well, I know just the place.” Lori takes my hand in hers. “C’mon, baby!”
We enter a small boutique that feels a lot less stuffy than Bellamy’s but still way out of my comfort zone judging by the designer bags kept locked away behind glass cabinets.
I’m immediately on edge again, but then Lori blows in like a mini tornado of blonde hair and leopard print, her big, bright blue Birkin bag dangling from the crook of her elbow as she rummages through some of the racks.
“Lori Jones!”
I’m again startled, by a high-pitched squeal, looking to see Lori’s doppelg?nger running out from behind the counter, the two blonde women embracing one another in a flurry of giggles and air kisses.
And I stand back, waiting, not quite sure what to say or do, gripping the life out of the strap of my purse.
“Juney bug, this is Poppy!” Lori suddenly says, turning to me and dragging the woman with her. “Poppy, this is my dearest friend and retail therapist, June Faris.”
June smiles at me, and it’s genuine, and I find myself releasing the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
“Poppy needs a dress for that charity gala tonight. The one for St. Anne’s hospital. And she had a… how do I say… not so amazing experience at Bellamy’s earlier,” Lori explains, and the two women share a knowing look and a couple of mm-hmms.
“Oh, sweetheart,” June says to me, grabbing my hand and towing me toward the back of the store where there are a pair of beautiful sofas set up. “Those Bellamy women are nothing but whores.” She scoffs. “And not the fun kinda whores, either.”
Lori snaps her fingers, and the two share another giggle.
“Okay, who needs champagne?” June asks, holding her own hand up in the air.
“Me, I do!” Lori sing-songs, waving her hand in the air, her collection of bangles and bracelets jingling on her wrist.
“Oh…” I shift awkwardly. “I… I don’t really drink. Just water is fine for me.”
“I got you, baby,” June says with a wink before disappearing through a door.
“Take a seat, cutie pie,” Lori says, patting the space next to her on the plush sofa. “You are about to be pampered, mmkay.”
I take a seat, but I can’t relax, my eyes flitting about the store, trying to get a read on the garments hanging on the racks. I’m worried because both Lori and June are standard sized women, and I am absolutely not. I really don’t feel like being humiliated again today.
“Honey, what’s wrong? You look worried,” Lori says, and then she reaches out a hand and unexpectedly runs the pad of her thumb over the skin between my eyebrows a few times. “You have a crease!”
I gently push her hand away, lowering my voice, “Are you… sure we’re going to be able find something here, in my… size?”
Lori rears back, incredulous at my question. “Honey, you are in a safe space here. Juney bug doesn’t do sizes. She’s all about vibes, and I have no doubt in my mind or my heart that she will have you looking so damn fine, Brookes won’t be able to keep those big man hands of his off you tonight.”
“Oh…” I say slowly, taken aback. “I-I thought you knew. Brookes and I… we’re not really… together.”
“Yet.” Lori offers me an exaggerated wink.
I deadpan. Oh God.
“Baby girl—” Lori holds her hand to her chest as she continues, “I could never have children of my own. We tried. But between my uncooperative ovaries and Jonesy’s old-ass balls, it just never happened.”
I refrain from wincing at the thought of Jonesy’s… balls, trying not to laugh while also feeling terrible for Lori. “Oh, Lori, I’m… I’m sorry.”
She waves a dismissive hand at my apology. “That boy is like a son to me. And to Jonesy. And I have been waiting years for this very moment, mkay. And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I am not about to go down without a fight.”
My eyebrows draw together, because I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Waiting for this moment? A fight? What is going on?
But, before I can question her, we’re interrupted by June floating back through the door carrying a tray of drinks, closely followed by a small team of whom I assume are her employees, all three of them carrying dresses and shoes and purses.
I take the glass of sparkling water from the tray she placed on the small coffee table, suddenly wishing I did drink as I take a sip.
“Okay, so I’m thinking a children’s charity, we want color, we want fun!” June exclaims, throwing her hands around all excitedly. “We want maybe a little bit of titty but not too much.”
I choke on my mouthful of water, coughing as the bubbles burn my throat.
Lori doesn’t miss a beat, however, reaching around and smacking my back as she agrees with June, nodding. “Classy bit of a titty and ass never hurt no one.”
Oh. My. God.
Turns out, Lori Jones is a whole-ass vibe.
A fifty-two-year-old retired Las Vegas cocktail waitress, she married Jonesy, who is thirty years older than her, after knowing him for twenty-four hours.
Now she spends her days shopping, luxuriating at day spas, lunching with her girlfriends, playing golf really bad and cramping her husband’s style (according to Jonesy, apparently) and just being beautiful and fabulous in every way.
And, after spending the afternoon together, I’m kind of her biggest fan now. I adore her.
“I should probably get going,” I say as we walk out of the salon where I just spent more money than I earned in a week at Vista Palms on a damn blowout. Tucking Brookes’ credit card back into my purse, I can’t help but wince. “Brookes is going to kill me…”
“Honey, that is a black Amex.” Lori nudges me. “Do you know what that even means?”
I shake my head because I really don’t.
She snorts a laugh. “It means you do not need to worry your pretty little head over it, okay?”
We continue walking up the sidewalk, back in the direction of Brookes’ Range Rover when Lori stops me suddenly, her smile turning mischievous, almost devious.
“W-what?” I ask, genuinely confused and a little nervous if I’m honest.
“Come with me,” she says, grabbing my hand and nodding her head for me to follow.
And it’s only then that I realize we’re outside of Bellamy’s.
“I don’t want to go back in there, Lori.” I stop, shaking my head vehemently.
“Oh, I do!” Lori’s eyebrows dance conspiratorially. “I’ve always wanted my very own Pretty Woman moment. Come on, baby.”
Huffing a resigned sigh, I follow as she walks through the door to the tune of a much nicer greeting than I received when I walked in here earlier today.
“Hi, there.” The same woman who was horrible to me this morning smiles, but then her gaze lands on me and immediately, her smile falls.
“Can I help you?” she practically grits.
Lori spins around from where she’s studying a display of silk scarves, her stare hard as she looks the woman up and down. “Oh, no thanks, honey,” she says with a saccharinely sweet smile, pulling a Chanel lipstick out of her Birkin. “I just wanted to come in here and wish you luck.”
The woman arches one of her perfect eyebrows. “Wish me… luck?”
Lori nods, and then, gliding the lipstick over her plumped-up lips she says, “On whatever you decide to do next.”
The woman shakes her head, a confused smile pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry, I don’t… understand what you’re—”
“My husband is a dear, personal friend of Jenson Bellamy,” Lori interjects, before rolling her lips together, making a few smacking sounds as she places the lid onto the lipstick and drops it back into her purse.
“And when I tell him about the way you treated… Brookes Devereaux’s girlfriend this morning”—Lori indicates me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder—“well, I imagine Jenson will be none too happy losing out on all the business that comes through here from the Vista Palms member.”
The sales associate’s jaw falls open as she looks from Lori to me, her gaze dipping down to the plethora of shopping bags I’m struggling to hold.
“Come along, baby girl,” Lori says, tugging me with her back toward the door.
Pausing, she throws a smile over her shoulder as she says, “Oh, and I heard through the grapevine that Macy’s over at Gardens Mall is hiring.
Good luck.” And, with a wink, Lori walks out of the store with her chin held high, and I can’t help but bite back my smirk, hurrying quickly after her.