Retail Therapy Read Online Free Page B

Yorkie with thin gray fur and a pinched face that reminded me of a bat’s. The dog was always a show in itself, as everyone was obliged to fuss over it, and someone had to be there to hold and entertain the beast while Deanna ran lines.
    â€œAnd how is Muffin doing today?” Stella said, nuzzling the pooch adoringly.
    â€œNot too well, poor pookie.” Deanna handed him off to Sean. “I’m afraid it’s ...” she lowered her voice to whisper, “diarrhea.”
    I could see Sean wincing behind Deanna, nearly dropping the Yorkie, and it took all my acting ability to keep a straight face as Deanna turned to me. “Hey, you!” she smiled, showering me with fake affection. “Something is different about you today. A new hair color?”
    I didn’t tell her that the golden blond hue of my hair belonged to me; news like that might make a person like Deanna shrivel up and croak like the wicked witch in a downpour. I blinked shyly. “No, same hair.”
    She tapped her chin, looking me over from head to toe. “That’s it! The shoes.”
    I modeled my Nine West polka dots demurely, trying not to show off. “You’re right. They are new.”
    â€œHmm. Very nice shoes, but really ...”
    â€œReally, what?”
    â€œOh, just the combination.”
    I glanced down my body. “This shirt came with the shoes.”
    â€œYes, of course, dear. But the shoes and the jeans?”
    An uncomfortable quiet wrapped around us as people shuffled and pretended to consult their scripts.
    â€œIt might sound silly to you, but jeans are sort of my trademark. You know, that I mix and match jeans with formal tops and casual Ts?”
    Deanna gave a little laugh. “You and a few thousand other aspiring actresses.”
    I wanted to wipe the smirk from her Botoxed lips, but I forced myself to veer away from career suicide. “Anyway.” I bent back one corner of my script. “The shoes are new. Nine West.”
    â€œAnd they’re lovely,” she said effusively, “though the combination is a bit gauche. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to wear ankle-strap shoes with pants?” She pronounced it as “paahnts,” so haughtily you’d think she was starring in a British comedy.
    â€œBut the jeans are my trademark,” I said, feeling mousy.
    She sighed. “Of course they are, but not with shoes like that, dear.”
    I lifted the fabric of my pants and glanced down at my beloved shoes. Was she right? Could it be that both Alana and I had missed a fashion mistake that would put me in the x-files of Glamour or Cosmo ?
    â€œAll right, then,” Deanna said, taking charge. “Shall we rehearse our new scene?”
    The crew came alive, hopping into place as Stella looked up over her reading glasses. “Yes, of course. This one takes place in the parlor of the Childs mansion. Let’s do a run-through, without the slap, of course.”
    â€œOf course!” Deanna chimed in, reaching over to touch my cheek with cold affection.
    I tried to smile, but it was hard to get past the wounded feeling inside.
    I was wearing ankle-strap shoes with pants.
    I had committed a fashion faux pas.
    My life was over.

Part Two

    ARRIBA! IT’S CINCO DE MAYO
SALE DAY!

3
    Alana
    D amned cathedrals! Why couldn’t they keep their chimes to themselves?
    I was climbing the tedious stone stairs of the bell tower, trying to get to the top to put a sock on the clapper, but the higher I rose, the darker the stairwell became.
    â€œWho’s doing that?” I called. “Stop!”
    I flailed in the darkness, then realized I was writhing in my own bed.
    I tore off the mask and looked at my digital clock. Twelve noon. Ugh.
    With a tap of my fingertips, I hit the snooze button to cut off the cathedral chime alarm and fell back against the pillows. Sleeping till noon and still exhausted. . . I was in very bad shape. Jet lag was one