Party Crashers by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online Page B

time do you clock in?”
    “Noon, but—”
    “Good,” Carlotta said with a gap-toothed grin. “We have plenty of time to get to know each other. I’m meeting my friend Hannah and you’ll love, love, love her.”
    Joining them seemed like a foregone conclusion, and the decision was cinched by Jolie’s howling stomach—the waffles had been forever ago. “Okay.” Besides, she missed having Leann around to talk to. She could use a friend or two.
    Carlotta walked liked royalty, her shoulders hyper-extended and her chest thrust forward. She was a head taller than Jolie, and she had the longest neck Jolie had ever seen.
    “How do you like it in shoes?” Carlotta’s voice was nasal and clipped.
    “My first day was a little rough,” Jolie said.
    “You’ll be great—you have the perfect look for selling shoes.”
    Jolie glanced down at her non-designer uniform of khaki-colored skirt, pale blue blouse, black blazer, and low-heeled sandals. “Okay.”
    “Relax, I meant that in a good way. You look…approachable. That’s important for shoes. Now where I am, in designer wear, it’s best to look un approachable. That scares off the riffraff who want to waste your time trying on things they can’t afford. Only the people with serious money have the balls to come up to me.”
    Jolie was beginning to see why this woman was a star sales consultant. “How long have you worked retail?”
    “For most of my adult life, and trust me, it doesn’t get better than Neiman’s. Are you working part-time?”
    “Yes, through the holidays.”
    “Did your company downsize? We’ve gotten a lot of part-timers from the telecom layoffs.”
    “Um, no, actually, I’m in real estate.”
    “Ah. Say no more. Plenty of my good customers are realtors, and they’re hurting, skipping trunk shows and buying clearance instead.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s so sad.”
    Jolie could only nod.
    “On the other hand, there are just as many women who can no longer afford their shrinks or their Zoloft, so they’re practicing shopping therapy.” Carlotta grinned. “It all evens out.”
    The mall wasn’t as busy today and the food court was nearly empty. Jolie eyed the spot where she had met Detective Salyers and felt a stirring of anxiety.
    “We’re meeting Hannah at the Crepe Cafe,” Carlotta said, nodding toward the end of the corridor.
    Jolie groaned inwardly, wondering how big a dent breakfast would put in her wallet. She’d lain awake most of the night wondering what she could sell if she needed an attorney, but all she could come up with was a kidney. She was a frugal person—she could get by on one.
    “Hannah knows the chef here,” Carlotta said, “so we’ll eat for free as long as we leave a nice tip.”
    The woman was either a mind reader or she thought Jolie looked poor. Regardless, Jolie was grateful.
    Carlotta’s friend hadn’t yet arrived, but they were shown to a cloth-covered table in a sunny alcove. Carlotta flirted outrageously with the waiter and asked for Pellegrino bottled water. Jolie asked for hot water and lemon, and scanned the menu, which sported some rather alarming prices.
    “So, Jolie,” Carlotta said over the top of her menu, “I must hear all about your encounter with Beck Underwood.”
    Jolie lifted her eyebrows, and the man’s face came into her mind. “My encounter? I sold him a pair of shoes.”
    “No, back up,” Carlotta said, waving her hand. “I haven’t seen a picture of him in ages. What does he look like these days?”
    She recalled that Michael had said Carlotta was a bona fide celebrity groupie. “Um, he was sunburned, mostly.”
    “Come on, is he still gorgeous?”
    Jolie shrugged and her cheeks warmed. “I wouldn’t say ‘gorgeous,’ maybe…striking.”
    Carlotta grinned and her shoulders shook with a dramatic shudder. “You know he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in Atlanta.”
    “Um, no, I didn’t.”
    “Do you have a boyfriend?”
    Jolie