Party Crashers by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online Page A

specifically Prada.
    "Speaking of which," Lindy said, her gaze landing somewhere behind Jolie, "here's our star sales consultant for the week, Carlotta Wren. Carlotta just topped the former weekly sales record, which she also set, by the way. Congratulations, Carlotta."
    Jolie joined in the smattering of applause and turned to see what a star sales consultant looked like. Carlotta Wren stood next to Jolie's row, tall, with long, straight dark hair clasped in a low ponytail. Her slender, hour-glass figure was wrapped in a sport-stretch red dress complemented with red platform shoes and a dark denim leather-trimmed Prada tote. She had exotic features, including a wide smile with a gap between her front teeth, reminiscent of Lauren Bacall. She took a little bow, then said, "Thank you, thank you," and dropped into the seat next to Jolie, smelling of something musky and mysterious.
    "What did I miss?" she whispered.
    "Not much," Jolie whispered back, instantly edgy from the nervous energy rolling off the woman.
    "You're new. I'm Carlotta." She stuck out her manicured hand.
    "I'm Jolie," she murmured, giving the outstretched hand a shake, conscious of her own gnawed-down nails.
    "Jolie? Do you work with Michael in shoes?"
    Jolie nodded.
    "Oh, you're the one."
    "The one what?"
    Carlotta waved her hand. "Oh, honey, we definitely have to talk after this waste-of-time meeting."
    Jolie had hoped to spend the time between the meeting and the beginning of her shift at the copy store printing flyers, so she didn't encourage the woman's attention. But when the meeting ended thirty minutes later, Carlotta turned and said, "I'm starving—have breakfast with me."
    "Well, I—"
    "What 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 rich and velvety.
    "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?"
    "All 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 widespread 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 Café." Carlotta said, nodding toward the end of the corridor.
    Jolie groaned inwardly, wondering how