Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
I had to get a credit card. I didn’t want to, but it was unavoidable. If my auntie knew, she would cluck her tongue and warn me that I was going to start making bad financial decisions, because once you got used to spending money you didn’t have, it was hard to stop.
The plastic card was cold in my hand. It had a limit of $1,000. Practically nothing, but if I maxed it out, I’d be screwed.
The car loan was a necessity, and I wiped out my bank account with the small down payment I was able to scrape together. I needed money to get by, and without tips from the bowling alley, I was in a bad spot. I was not going to ask Auntie to help when she had Sage living with her again, and I couldn’t let Joanna know. She’d try to lend me money, and not only could I not do that to her, but it would look bad. Here I finally had a dream job, and I couldn’t even afford lunch money.
I was resolved. I would sparingly use the credit card, and then when it was finally payday, I would pay off the balance and never touch the thing again. That was until Phoebe decided one fine day to start talking to me again. I was sitting with Danuwoa at our usual lunch table when she plopped down with a smile on her face.
“Hey, friends, whatchu eating?” She strained her neck to appreciatively look at what Danuwoa had on his plate. I was salivating for the saucy-looking meat and noodle dish. It smelled like garlic.
She made a face at my Wonder Bread sandwich. Same. But I had splurged on deli ham, so it wasn’t bologna this time. She opened a container of sad salad greens. Danuwoa had the best lunch. The shitass.
“Are you guys excited you get to go to California? I had hoped I could go,” she said, glancing at me with a pinched look, as if the reason she couldn’t go to California was that I was Natalie’s replacement and not her.
“It’s gonna be a lot of work,” Danuwoa said before he took a huge bite of his food.
The reminder helped, since Phoebe was instantly happy again. “What are you going to wear? I’ve heard people say the dinners are so elegant and fun.”
“Probably just a dress in my closet,” I said with a shrug.
“What?” She was aghast. “You cannot wear some old thing. You will be with anyone who is anyone at the resort. What if DiCaprio was vacationing there!”
Danuwoa laughed.
I smiled. “If on the off chance Leonardo DiCaprio were to somehow notice me while vacationing at a resort with a twenty-year-old Brazilian model, then he would see me looking comfortable.”
Phoebe stabbed at her lettuce with a fork. “What a wasted opportunity. At least come shopping with me.”
“That consignment shop you mentioned?”
“Yeah, it’s not too far from here. Even a dress and new shoes would do wonders.”
I supposed one used outfit wouldn’t be that great of an expense, and Phoebe was trying to be nice to me. I didn’t want to ruin it. I needed more friends in this office than just Danuwoa. What better way to bond than over clothes? “Okay, let’s go,” I said.
“Great! You have to wear something nice. That’s what Kyle always tells me—you have to dress for the job you want, not the one you have.”
“Oh, is that what Kyle says?” Danuwoa teased.
“He tells me a lot of things. He mentioned Gary is still pretty pissed at you, Ember.”
I’d managed to avoid Gary like the plague.
Danuwoa’s cell phone rang, and Phoebe leaned toward me. “Word of advice, watch your back. Gary apparently said he would love to see you put in your place in front of Mr. Stevenson.”
“Well, no one has to worry about that. If I make so much as a typo in an email, Mr. Stevenson puts me in my place. He misses nothing and doesn’t let anything go.” I rolled my eyes. I just wanted to be an accountant. I didn’t want Natalie’s job. I wanted the pay, but if these people knew what it was like to cater to the whims of a CEO day in and day out, they wouldn’t want this job. When my performance was judged more on the mood of the person than my actual work, it was like stepping on eggshells. It was emotional whiplash, and no matter how I tried to prepare for every possible scenario, Mr. Stevenson’s response was never what I expected it to be.
One day, he was really nice when I tripped and fell in his office. Like in that one instance he was reminded of my humanity and that I wasn’t a walking punching bag. But other times he demanded perfection.
Danuwoa hung up his phone. “I gotta run and fix the copier for HR. I’ll catch you later.”
“See ya,” I said through a tight smile.
He looked at me with raised eyebrows. You okay?
I nodded.
He nodded back and was gone.
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe whispered. “I’ve worked for people like that. It’s not easy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s nothing a little retail therapy can’t fix though.” Phoebe’s mischievous smile made me chuckle.
I supposed not.
—
I met Phoebe at the consignment store she had raved about.
It was a small store, but everything was pristine. It wasn’t like the thrift stores I frequented with stuff thrown on the ground by kids and racks picked over by the regulars who visited daily to get the best stuff first. It didn’t smell musty from carpets that were never vacuumed.
Phoebe was already inside, sliding hangers quickly across a rack while she assessed what was available.
“Aha! This is perfect,” she exclaimed and quickly thrust the hanger in front of my shoulders to lay out the dress against me. It was sexy. Too sexy. There was no way I’d even try it on—who did she think I was? It was bloodred, with tight ruching along the sides.
“My arm wouldn’t even fit in that.” It was the width of a Slinky.
“It stretches! It’s BCBG and only sixty dollars—come on, that’s a steal!”
“I don’t even know what that means, but four letters in the alphabet shouldn’t cost sixty dollars. Nope, not happening.”
“What do you hope to look like then? This is your chance to dress up and play the part of sophisticated executive assistant at a world-class resort. Live a little.” Phoebe pushed the dress to me again.
“I just want to look like me, but with nicer clothes.”
“That dress is very nice. Hold on to it and let’s keep looking.”
Phoebe moved on to another rack and I followed, going through the motions. When she finally spoke again, it made me jump.
“So, you have your eye on anyone cute at Technix or in the building?”
“Uh…no. That’s not even allowed.” I tried to brush her off, looking at an ugly beaded dress from the eighties.
“Looking is fine. Besides, no one follows that rule,” Phoebe said as she rolled her eyes. “You and Dan seem to be getting close.”
“We’re just work friends.” My laugh was hollow, and my heartbeat was picking up. This conversation was too stressful for a leisurely activity. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”
I lied. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I say that? There were a million better excuses than making up a boyfriend.
“That was fast. Who?”
“Oh, just a guy I’ve known all my life. His name is…Ron.” Internally I slapped my forehead. Another lie that I definitely did not want to get to Danuwoa. He had met Ron and the bowling gang, and he very much remembered them all. “It’s on-again, off-again, so maybe don’t mention it for a while?”
“Oh.” For once, Phoebe was shocked into silence. “Yeah, okay.”
I went to the back of the store under the guise of looking at the wall full of shoes. If I was looking, I might as well look at something I liked. My orthopedic flats were really comfortable to wear all day, but I could get away with a heel or something for one evening.
Every single pair of nice shoes had the skinniest stiletto heel. I was trying to be adventurous, but I wasn’t going to try to balance on those things. I’d be teetering all night.
One pair of shoes caught my eye. They were strappy and shiny and, just like the dress Phoebe picked out, entirely way too flashy for me. The heel was clear and stacked, so they would be easier to walk in compared to the stilettos, but the straps would crisscross around my ankles and looked long enough to go up my calves. They were sexy Cinderella shoes. I picked up the right one and nearly dropped it.
They were my size and made by some designer I’d never heard of before. They were also eighty dollars. What kind of secondhand store didn’t have anything below fifty dollars? It couldn’t hurt to at least try them on. It wasn’t like the dress; I could easily slip my shoes on and off.
Four inches taller, I stood in front of the mirror on the wall, and I loved them so much. I posed each and every way, turning and craning to see myself at every angle. They made my ass look great.
Phoebe popped out of nowhere. “Ember! You have to buy those. They’ll look great with the dress too.”
“I’m on a budget, so I should only get one thing.”
“This is Santa Barbara, not an OKC bar. Get both. You’ll wear them again, so it’s a sound investment.”
“Oh, what the hell, I’ll get them.”
“You won’t be sorry!” she squealed.
—
After I hugged Phoebe goodbye, I took my time starting up my car, and Phoebe kept looking at me weirdly from her car across from me. So I left the parking lot behind her. Except, when I should have turned left, I turned right and circled around the block back to the consignment store. I hated the dress and was going to return it with Phoebe none the wiser.
“Back again already?” the white-haired shop assistant asked.
“I changed my mind about the dress. Can I return it?”
“Oh, no can do. I’m sorry, but all purchases are final,” she said as she pointed to a handwritten notice on the wall behind her.
“I only just bought it. Can you please make an exception?” I needed that money for food, not a dress I’d never be caught dead in.
“If I make an exception for you, then I have to make one for everybody.”
“There’s no one else here.” Steam was coming out of my ears.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
I wanted to scream. It was my own damn fault. I turned out of the store on my heel in a huff.