Free Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life) by Marie Ferrarella Page B

length gown that made her bear a striking resemblance to a sparkling Franklin stove.
    Johanna sighed as she turned toward her friend. “I wasn’t when I started out. But it seems no one wants to listen.”
    She cast a damning look in Alicia’s direction. The woman was still clinging to Harry and laughing up into his face as if he was saying something very witty. Johanna had no doubts that Harry probably thought it was.
    “Not about anything sad, you know that.” Arlene looked around the room, apparently absorbing everything. It was her chosen avocation. There was nowhere that she would rather be than in the center of a party. “They all carry their own little Greek tragedies around with them, or so they think. Much more like pathos or last week’s soap opera. ‘As The Stomach Churns,’ how’s that?”
    Johanna laughed. “I think I’ve heard that before.”
    “Well, I said it with more flair,” Arlene declared with conviction. “Now, let’s go and ogle some great looking men.”
    But Johanna made no move to join the woman. “Where’s Sam?”
    Arlene pretended to frown. A second chin puddled beneath her first. “That’s not what I meant.”
    “Seriously—“
    “Seriously,” Arlene answered solemnly. Then she relented as she gestured vaguely to a far corner of the banquet room toward a cluster of people who were making more than their share of noise. “He’s over there somewhere, probably still with that platinum starlet from Spanky’s Holiday breathing all over him. Dora McDaniels I think. Poor ditzy thing thinks if she gives Sam a little action, he can get her a part in Harry’s film. Life never changes, does it?”
    Subtly, Arlene guided Johanna toward a table covered with trays of food. In the center of the long table was a sculpture of a nude female.
    “Oh, I don’t know.” Johanna shifted her eyes from the sculpture and scanned the table. Maybe having an hors d’oeuvre wouldn’t be a bad idea after all. “I think it does.”
    “Maybe.” Arlene helped herself to a plate full of something that looked like pigs in a blanket. Many pigs. “Trouble is,” she popped one into her rounded scarlet mouth, “it changes for the worse.”
    Johanna shook her head. Beneath her wispy bangs, her brow furrowed. “I don’t like to think that.”
    “Neither do I, but it’s true.” Arlene stopped eating. “Are you planning to stop the party by breaking into a rendition of Tomorrow and making us all weep into our handkerchiefs?” The hors d’oeuvre hovered an inch away from her mouth.
    Johanna guided Arlene’s short fingers to complete the action. Lips met food with satisfaction. “You forgot how to weep a long time ago, Arlene.”
    “Oh, I don’t know.” She saw someone across the room and sighed. “I weep every time I see a young guy in tight pants walk by and know I can’t have him.”
    Johanna handed her plate to an attendant behind the table and shook her head when he tried to offer her more. “If he’s wearing tight pants,” she turned back to Arlene, “then he’s probably gay.”
    “Maybe.” Arlene popped two heaping crackers into her mouth and they slid down in an amazingly fast time. “But I’m not prejudiced. Besides,” she spread another healthy slab of cheddar cheese over a tiny cracker, “it would certainly be fun finding out. Hold it,” she called to the waiter who walked by.
    “Arlene, you can’t,” Johanna hissed, not exactly sure what her friend was capable of.
    “I’m just getting another glass of champagne, Johanna,” Arlene said innocently, her small eyes disappearing into her face as she grinned. “Relax a little.”
    The tall, handsome waiter smiled broadly at the two women and lowered the tray to accommodate Johanna’s reach. She accepted a glass, winding her slender fingers around the stem, almost for support rather than having something to drink.
    Arlene watched the waiter as he moved away from them. “Just look at those hips, will you?” Her sigh