Baby Needs a New Pair of Shoes by Lauren Baratz-Logsted Read Free Book Online Page B

kitchen and I heard a drawer slide open and shut. When he returned, he had a fresh deck of red-and-white Bicycle cards in his hand. He tore off the cellophane wrapper and as he did so, he looked me dead in the eye, giving me the answer I’d come there for in a single word.
    â€œYes.”

6
    â€œT hose are some whack shoes, chica, ” Rivera said.
    I’d been using the sheet of paper with the pictures of Jimmy Choos on it that I’d copied out of Hillary’s computer as a bookmark and Rivera was studying the lovely lines of the Asha as it peeked out from the top of the latest Chick Lit book I was reading, Still Life with Stiletto, by Bonita Sanchez.
    â€œIs whack good?” I asked. I honestly had no idea.
    â€œ Whack is beyond good,” she said, then she reflected for a moment. “And whack is beyond bad.” Further reflection, shrug. “ Whack is whack.”
    â€œAh.” Well, that was illuminating. I wasn’t sure if she was playing with me or not.
    â€œ Whack can mean bad or crazy,” she elaborated. “If I say the shoes are whack, it could mean they’re really ugly or really cool. If I say some guy is whack, it could mean stay away from him or that he’s doing something unbelievable, like saying ‘Shaq is whack.’ Get it? Shaq’s so good it’s unbelievable.”
    â€œWow,” I said, “a linguistic paradox.” Then I remembered something from TV. “What about that pop star who says ‘crack is whack’?”
    â€œShe means it’s bad for you.”
    â€œHuh. And here I thought she meant ‘I love crack! Give me more!’”
    Rivera favored me with a rare smile before looking back at the picture of the shoes. “I think I’m going to get me a pair,” she said. “How much?”
    While visiting the store in Manhattan, before leaving I’d asked the salesgirl the price of a few more pairs of shoes that interested me. You know, just for fun. Then I’d committed the prices to memory.
    â€œUnless I’m mistaken, those shoes go for one thousand and one hundred and fifty dollars a pair.”
    â€œFor real? ”
    â€œYup,” I said. “You get both for that price.”
    â€œThat’s insanity!”
    â€œMmm-hmm,” I agreed, “but look at these.” I showed her the Ghost.
    â€œNow those shoes I would pay one thousand and one hundred and fifty dollars for,” she said. “Those shoes are beyond whack.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” I said, “except those shoes will set you back one thousand and four hundred dollars.”
    â€œInsanity!” she said.
    â€œBeyond insanity,” I agreed.
    â€œSo how come you’re carrying around a picture of them like they’re a prayer card from church?”
    â€œBecause I really want them,” I admitted, “more than I can ever remember wanting anything.”
    â€œWanting and getting are two different things, chica. How do you think you’ll ever be able to pay for something like that?”
    â€œI’m working on it,” I said. “As Shakespeare says, ‘To do a great right, do a little wrong.’”
    â€œFuck Shakespeare. You think Stella is just going to give you a raise? Even if she gave you like a dollar an hour raise—and do you think Stella’s going to ever part with another dollar, let alone forty of them a week?—it’d take you half a year to save that much money at that rate. By then those shoes’d be long gone.”
    â€œHey,” I said, ignoring her last sentence, “your math skills are whack.”
    â€œWhat I should do is whack you, ” Stella said to Rivera, surprising us. “What are you trying to say, that I’m cheap?”
    â€œNo way, boss.” Rivera took a step backward, hands raised in self-defense. “You are an all-American entrepreneur and you are very, very