Free Secrets of a Shoe Addict by Beth Harbison Page A

dirtiest part of the dirty, crappy Las Vegas airport.”
    “Why are you on the floor of the airport?” Sandra asked, immediately alarmed, yet intrigued.
    “All the flights are running late because of thunderstorms or something. The place is mobbed.” She made an exasperated sound, then said, “But that’s not why I called. I need a job. Fast. And I was wondering if you and your shoe people were hiring.”
    “What?”
Sandra couldn’t process this that fast.
    “Your company,” Tiffany said. “Are you hiring?”
    A year ago, Sandra and some friends had met every Tuesday night to swap shoes in an effort to, if not get rid of their shoe addiction, at least make it cost less. Eventually, in a move that turned their addiction to actual
profit
, they pooled their money to support the work of a brilliant young Italian shoemaker named Phillipe Carfagni. Now their company paid for the manufacture and import of his work, and had gotten it into an impressive number of stores, boutiques, and online shoe sites. But the company was still young and, as such, still struggled to make ends meet with the few employees it had.
    “Why?”
    “I need a job.”
    “What? Why do you need a job?” Sandra asked, shocked. “Are you and Charlie splitting up?” Oh! Bad mistake! Tiffany hadn’t said a word about leaving Charlie, but Sandra had leapt all over it like
Are you finally leaving the bum?
    Which was how she really felt.
    “No!” Tiffany barked. “God, Sandra, can’t I just ask you about a job without you leaping to crazy and insulting conclusions?”
    “Well . . . yes, it’s just . . . you just said you’re on the floor of some Las Vegas hotel—”
    “Airport.”
    “—right, airport, and you’re obviously in the middle of something more demanding than, say, sitting around doing your nails while watching
The Price Is Right
and deciding you want a new hobby. So . . . seriously, Tiffany, why are you asking about a job
now
?”
    “It doesn’t matter
why
,” Tiffany said, an edge still sharp in her voice. “Maybe I’m just bored waiting for my flight and thought of it. Maybe I’m just trying to make conversation. Maybe—”
    “Okay, now I
know
something’s up,” Sandra said. She’d had more than her share of liars over the phone these past few years, and she could pick them out within seconds. “You should have stopped at the bored-and-waiting-for-your-flight part. I might have bought that.”
    “Would you buy in-debt-from-buying-too-many-clothes-and-shoes?” Tiffany shot back.
    Sandra laughed. “No way. Try again.”
    “It’s the truth,” Tiffany said. And this time her voice was different. Serious. Broken.
    “What? You got into financial trouble buying
clothes
? And
shoes
?”
    “I know it’s not like me, but it’s the truth. I accidentally spent thousands of dollars on these stupid, impractical designer clothes. Then there was a mix-up with the plane tickets home, so I had to get a first-class seat at the last minute for a nine-year-old who can’t be separated from the group, and the whole thing’s a mess, and if I don’t make a lot of money fast, my marriage is going to be in really serious trouble. So I was wondering if you needed any part-time workers for your company.”
    Sandra listened to this with disbelief.
Tiffany?
Spent thousandsof dollars on
clothes
? It didn’t make sense, but the one thing that was obvious was that it didn’t
have
to make sense right now. Right now Sandra needed to listen.
    She just wished she could do more to help. “The company is really still in its infancy, and I can’t hire people unilaterally, and besides, you wouldn’t make that much that soon even if we
were
hiring, which we’re not. Maybe I could loan you the money, if I tapped into my retirement. How much—?”
    “No! You can’t do that. I wouldn’t let you, so don’t even
think
about it. I was just desperate, honestly, and I thought you might have some sort of idea. . . .” Tiffany