Shop Till You Drop (8 page)

“It wasn’t your fault. I know the store doesn’t want a large woman like me in there,” Sarah said. “I’m bad for Juliana’s image.” Helen looked at her curly-haired friend in her cool white linen jacket and felt worse.

“That’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sarah said. “It’s not important to me. I heard you were working there, and I wanted to stop by and say hello.”

“So what do you do these days?” Helen asked. They’d talked too much about her.

“As little as possible,” Sarah said, and grinned.

“No, seriously.”

“I live on the beach. I made some money in investments, and I don’t have to work fulltime. I take a few consulting jobs when I feel like it. But I’ll never have to wear pantyhose again. And you know what? I don’t miss the office one bit. I originally moved to Florida to take care of my mother. She had cancer. I nursed her for two years. She died in February of 2000.”

“I’m sorry,” Helen said.

“I am, too. I miss Mom. When she passed away, she left me some property, including this condo. I wanted to live here, but her tenant’s lease wasn’t up until last month.”

“So that’s why you left the Coronado,” Helen said.

“Yeah, I liked it there, but I wanted my own place. I sold Mom’s other property and sank the money into Krispy Kreme stock.”

“Doughnuts?”

“I love those suckers. You can tell that by looking at me,” Sarah said. “When I bought it, all the financial advisors said that Krispy Kreme was expected to be a poor performer, but I thought anything that good was sure to succeed. I put all my inheritance into Krispy Kreme stock. Bought it at the IPO price of twenty-one dollars.”

“Did you just say
IPO
?” Helen said. “The women I hang around with now think that’s a French designer.”

“Nope, it was a tasty deal,” Sarah said. “Stock shot up like a rocket. I sold it when it hit sixty dollars a share. That was a good time to get out. It started tumbling soon after. I kept a few shares for sentimental reasons. Then I took most of that money and sank it into adult diaper stock.”

“From doughnuts to diapers? Why?” Helen said. “That’s a weird choice.”

“Not at all. When my mother was sick, I couldn’t get this one brand, because it was so popular. I had friends on the lookout for it all over the country. They would ship it to me. I figured anything so in demand was only going to go up. Besides, none of us boomers are getting any younger. Adult diapers are a growth industry. So I bought diaper stock and made more money. Then I sold it again.

“I only bought companies I liked—and sold what I didn’t. It was such a satisfying way to do business. When my old ink-jet printer died, I bought this highly recommended laser printer. It was a turkey. I was on the phone all day, arguing with customer service. I sold that stock the next day. Good thing, too. The company announced major lay-offs a month later, and that stock went down the tube.”

“They all went down the tube after September eleventh,” Helen said, with a sigh.

“I was mostly out of the market by then and into nice, safe T-bonds,” Sarah said. “I hope you weren’t caught in the crash.”

“I had airline stock,” Helen said. “And Enron.”

“Oh,” Sarah said. There was nothing else to say. Helen didn’t mention that the stock market crash made it hard for her to pay her lawyer. That’s where most of her money went—to the man who abandoned her in court.

The two women watched a father and his son fly a dragon kite on the sand. Some college kids were playing Ultimate Loop Frisbee.

“So you owe this fabulous life on the beach to Krispy Kreme doughnuts?”

“That’s right,” Sarah said. They looked at the sea and sunset. The evening clouds were whipped-cream mounds tinged with lavender. The air smelled of salt and coconut suntan oil.

“All this talk of Krispy Kreme is making me hungry,” Sarah said. “Want to go on a doughnut expedition?”

“Sure! Let’s make you richer,” Helen said.

Imagine, someone who didn’t agonize about eating a doughnut, Helen thought. She had to get out of that store and spend more time with normal people. She wasn’t sure the Coronado crowd counted.

The closest Krispy Kreme was twenty minutes away. As Sarah’s Range Rover pulled into the lot, the neon sign was flashing.

“Fresh doughnuts!” Sarah said. They raced for the store, laughing all the way. Inside, Helen breathed in the sugary, grease-perfumed air. They ordered a dozen glazed and ripped open the box in the parking lot. When Helen bit into the first warm glazed doughnut, she said, “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“So what’s it like working with Charlie’s Angels?” Sarah said, through a mouthful of doughnut. “How can a smart woman like you stand those bimbos?”

“They’re not bimbos,” Helen said, wondering why she was defending them. “That’s the sad part. They’re smart. I would have hired any of them at my old company. The problem is they don’t value their intelligence, and neither do their boyfriends. Beauty and money are the only standards that count. In their world, Albert Einstein would be pitied as a guy with a permanent bad hair day.”

Both women reached for another doughnut. “OK, they’re not stupid,” Sarah said between bites. “They’re shallow, which is worse. You’re too smart for them, Helen. Let me make some phone calls. I know several companies that would love to hire someone like you.”

“No!” Helen said, hoping she didn’t sound as panicky as she felt. She couldn’t work for a corporation. The court would find her for sure. She could never tell Sarah why. Instead, she gave her another half-truth.

“I’m burnt out,” she said. “I hit my head hard on the glass ceiling at my old job. I was sick of the pointless meetings and memos. I’d rather work at Juliana’s. Except something odd is going on there.”

Sarah was a good listener, or maybe Helen was high on sugar and grease after rice cakes, the only snacks Christina allowed in the store. By the fourth doughnut, Helen was talking about Christina’s suspected skimming and the purse full of pills.

At the half-dozen mark, Sarah looked serious. “Helen, something is way off in that store. You’ve got to get out of there. You saw that woman skim thirteen hundred dollars in one day.”

“But I’m not sure I saw anything. That’s the problem,” Helen said, waving a half-eaten glazed. “I have no proof. Maybe Christina saw Lauren shoplift that blouse and belt and I didn’t. Maybe there’s some FedEx rate I don’t know about.”

“And maybe she’s selling candy in those purses,” Sarah said. “Bull. You’re a numbers hound. If you could figure out actuarial tables, you can spot a scam. You may not know about implants and eye jobs, but you know Christina is crooked. She’s skimming and dealing drugs. You’d better get yourself a new job.”

“Why? What’s the use?” Helen said, hopelessly. “The only job I could find that paid anything was a lingerie model in a geezer bar. The good jobs are rare. They have so many people after them, I don’t have a chance.

“I guess I need to try harder, but I can’t seem to get up the energy to look for another job on my day off. I’m tired all the time. I have to stand all day. My feet hurt and my back hurts. When I get home, I just want to go to bed.” She downed another doughnut for comfort.

“I said I’d help you find a better one,” Sarah said, chomping yet another Krispy Kreme. Helen backpedaled furiously, while reaching for one more glazed doughnut. The dozen seemed to be disappearing fast, but Helen could not remember how many she’d eaten.

“I’m just whining,” she said. “I really don’t want to go back to an office. Juliana’s pays the rent. The work isn’t that bad. At least I don’t have to say, ‘You want fries with that?’ ” It was hard to say with a mouth full of doughnut.

Sarah did not laugh. Instead, she dropped her doughnut and fixed Helen with her serious deep brown stare. “Listen to me, Helen. Christina is ripping off some rich, powerful people. They won’t take it kindly if they find out what she’s doing. She’s mixing sex, money, and male egos. Mark my words: Murder’s next.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Helen said. “I appreciate your concern, but you’ve had too much sun.” She reached for another glazed doughnut. They were all gone.

Sarah would not hear of Helen taking a cab home. She drove Helen to the Coronado.

As Helen settled into her creaky bed, she decided she liked Sarah a lot. But the woman had a melodramatic streak. Murder at Juliana’s, indeed. Christina would wear flip-flops first.

The next day, Helen heard Christina plotting a murder. For a lot of money.

Niki was the first person at the green door that morning, her long brown hair waving in the breeze like a dark banner. She was beautiful, but Juliana’s was used to beautiful women. Niki’s beauty was in her perfection. Her eyes and her lips and her cheekbones looked sculpted and covered with skin as unblemished as acrylic. She was the perfect high school cheerleader, all grown up.

A man walking by in ugly plaid shorts stared at the beautiful Niki so hard he tripped and fell against a parked Porsche. The outraged owner gave the bedazzled man the finger.

Niki looked luminous in the sunlight, the perfect advertisement for Juliana’s. Even at a distance, Helen recognized Niki’s white silk Joop halter top, tight white Dolce & Gabbana pants, and gold-trimmed D&G mules.

Christina buzzed Niki into the shop. She wafted in on a cloud of perfume so strong, it made Helen’s eyes water.

“In that outfit you look positively bridal,” Christina said. “How’s Jimmy? Are you here to buy more things for your wedding?”

“What wedding?” Niki said, and burst into tears.

“There, there, sweetie, it will be OK,” Christina said, and put her arms around Niki. They were both so thin, they looked like a pile of broomsticks.

“It won’t be OK,” Niki said. “The wedding’s off. All because of that bitch Desiree.”

“The skinny blonde chick with the fat lips?” Christina said, handing her a tissue. “She’s had so much collagen, she looks like Daisy Duck.”

Niki only sobbed harder and blew her perfect little nose. “That’s what makes it so awful, Christina. I’ve done everything right, and then she comes along with those stupid lips and outsize tits, and he falls for her. It isn’t fair!”

Niki’s own chest implants were impressive. Desiree’s mammaries must be mountainous, Helen thought.

Niki tried to stop crying, but she couldn’t. She seemed to be in real pain as she told her story. The perfume cloud covered her like a pall.

“I just found out about them last night. Jimmy told me he had to work late. I could have gone to dinner with my girl-friends, but I stayed home, gave myself an herbal mask, and went to bed early. One of our friends called this morning. She said she saw Jimmy and Desiree dancing together at our club. She said everyone saw them.”

Some friend, Helen thought.

“I called Jimmy at work,” Niki said. “He didn’t even bother to lie. He says he’s going to marry the bitch. We were supposed to go to a party at the Bee Gees’ place on Star Island.”

“Which Bee Gee?” Helen said, star struck.

“Robin, I think. Not Barry. And Maurice is dead. It was going to be fabulous. Now he’s taking her.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s so terrible,” Christina said. Niki cried harder. Christina handed her another tissue. Her grief seemed to intensify the perfume until it was almost liquid.

“Jimmy says I can keep the condo in the Towers and the ring, but he wants his freedom.”

He bought his freedom at a high price, Helen thought. Condos in the Towers started at one million, and that ring had a rock the size of Delaware. Little jilted Niki would be well fixed.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Christina soothed. “You’ve been engaged for four years. This is just a passing fling. Nervous bridegrooms do dumb things. Jimmy will get tired of Desiree and come back to you.”

“He won’t,” Niki sobbed, and Helen had never heard such despair. “She’s younger than me. She’s blond.”

“She’s bleached,” Christina said. “Anyone can be blond these days.”

Helen thought this jab at Desiree was unfair, since Christina owed her own blondness to the bottle.

“She’s never done anything. I’ve been in
Playboy
,” Niki said proudly, and sat up straight, so that her imposing implants stuck out farther. The movement unleashed another choking cloud of perfume.

“That’s how you and Jimmy first met, wasn’t it?” Christina said.

“Yes,” Niki said. “He saw my picture in
Playboy
. He remembered it for six whole months. He recognized me at a South Beach club and introduced himself.”

Helen hoped it was her face Jimmy recognized.

“It was love at first sight. Jimmy was so proud of me. When we started dating, he bought a hundred copies of my
Playboy
issue and gave them to all his friends and business associates.”

To show them what he was getting, Helen thought.

“That’s how his wife found out about us. She saw the bill for all those back issues on his credit card. She was so mad. She said she’d take him to the cleaners. Poor Jimmy had to hide things offshore and everything. The divorce took four years. I went through hell. Now he’s marrying that bitch on the beach in Belize next month.”