Free Retail Therapy by Roz Bailey Page B

said.
    â€œWell, at least you don’t look like one.” Having removed the last of Carnation Kiss, Hailey was applying a cinnamon shade from her bag. “I just had big, orange clown lips in front of a dozen cosmetics experts. Do you think anyone recognized me?”
    â€œI apologize, Marcella. Hey, do you work on commission? Would it help if we bought tons of makeup tonight?” I asked.
    She tugged on a dangly earring. “Sure, but, did you bring cash?”
    Cash? Oh ... the credit thing. I felt my face warm with embarrassment. “I do have a purse full of charge cards, one of which is bound to be valid, and Hailey and I are dying to stock up on cosmetics. Anything you can show us in the spring colors?”
    â€œPlenty!” Marcella motioned us over to the Trenda counter. “We can start by establishing your personal palettes, since you know firsthand that every color doesn’t suit every person. Over here. Let’s start with you, blondie ...”
    The woman had an eye for color, but she definitely didn’t belong in sales. Maybe I’d done her a favor by getting her bumped up to buyers’ school. As Marcella began explaining about hues and skin tones and seasons, I checked my watch. Already past seven-thirty.
    â€œYou’ll have to step up the pace, Marcella,” I said. “We’re already converted, so no use preaching to the choir. Just load us up with the goodies. We’ve got a lot of shopping to do before the doors close on us.”
    A whole lot of shopping.

11
    Hailey
    â€œS o let me get this straight,” I said as Alana and I watched that smiling, petite granny-type at Zarela’s carve up an avocado to prepare our fresh guacamole right at our table. “All that stuff you bought tonight? You don’t really want it?”
    â€œExactly.” Alana dipped a chip in salsa. “Except maybe for the Burberry. As I said, I’m conflicted about that plaid.”
    The Burberry hat had been a “what the hell!” purchase. Otherwise, Alana had chosen her items mostly by price tag, the more expensive the better. We’d quickly cut over to Tiffany’s because she realized that jewelry was compact and easy to carry with the added bonus of being outrageously expensive. As the bell rang to close the store, Alana paid a porter to transport our purchases back to the apartment, leaving us free to cab it over to Zarela’s and join the Cinco de Mayo celebration.
    â€œSo you bought the closetful of stuff to return it ...”
    â€œAnd get cash back. Let me tell you, it’s going to take me a few days to return all that merchandise, but at least it will give me a little liquid cash to get myself going. I tell you, I don’t believe my father. He’s never pulled a power trip like this before.”
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?” I offered. She’d given me just a few salient details as we shopped.
    â€œHoney, I couldn’t bear to give you a play-by-play. Let me just say that he’s going to cover the co-op expenses, so at least I won’t be homeless.”
    We won’t be homeless , I thought, recalling that I was a few months behind on the rent I owed Alana. I really, really needed that new contract from All Our Tomorrows .
    â€œBut beyond the roof over my head and an occasional salad smuggled in by Mama, when Daddy cuts me off, I’m going to be penniless. No spending money whatsoever. And you know I can’t live that way.”
    I shook my head. “I am so sorry. What will you do?”
    â€œFind a job, I guess,” she said airily. I don’t think the real trauma had sunk in yet.
    Poor Alana. The question remained, what would she do? “What kind of work were you thinking of?” I asked, recalling that she did not possess any so-called marketable skills.
    â€œI had a tiny epiphany while we were having that lovefest with Marcella back at the cosmetics department. I’ve