honey. That sounds like an invitation for trouble to me.”
“It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
As I step forward to follow Luanne to the stairs, I reach out and gently knock on the apartment’s door. Just in case.
The thing about working at Brook’s Bath and Body Shop is that I get to indulge in the best bath and body products around for a substantial discount. Bubble bath, skin creams and perfumes can all be mine for thirty percent off. Tim loved the way I smelled after coming home from work. He said it was like living with a bouquet of flowers. Stupid Tim. I bet Suzy smells like tanning lotion and Botox.
Today I have the happy job of taking inventory of the stockroom. Let’s see, we have three containers of lavender and vanilla body cream, four bottles of ‘A Rose by Another Name’ body mist, and one good for nothing ex-boyfriend who has yet to call and beg my forgiveness. Not that I want him to call. If he calls, I won’t answer. I won’t help him relieve his guilty conscience. The fact that he hasn’t called so that I can ignore him and punish him with my indifference doesn’t bother me at all. I mean, one might assume that screwing a downstairs neighbor rates an apologetic text message at least, but I don’t care. At this point, he could send a handwritten apology letter, written on parchment paper and delivered by carrier pigeon, and I still wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of—
“Hey, Ellie, I think you’re murdering that loofah.” Amber, donning her usual uniform of a black dress and spiky metal accessories, is standing in the doorway watching as I squeeze and twist the life out of a top-selling bath sponge.
“Amber! Yes, well, I was just…uh…I mean, I was testing the resilience of this loofah. No one likes a poorly made sponge when they’re trying to remove dead skin cells.”
Amber looks down at her chipped manicure, bored with me. “Whatever. Brook’s here. She brought in a new line of body powders that taste like food. She’s looking for your superior palate to decide which products to stock. Take my advice. Go for the kidney-pie flavor.”
Amber’s always been an enigma to me. Brash, sarcastic and gloomy, you wouldn’t think of her as a natural salesman, but people inevitably buy everything she suggests. Personally I think it’s her blunt honesty, but I can’t rule out witchcraft.
“Brook’s here?” I moan. “I thought she wasn’t coming back until next week?”
“I guess her little sex siesta with the ‘King of Kars’ Karl didn’t turn out as she planned.” Amber takes a step toward me and smiles. “From what I hear, Brook caught old Karl in the backseat of a pre-owned Miata with that actress who’s in all of his commercials. I guess he really does give the best service in town.”
Amber winks a heavily lined eye at me and floats out of the stockroom on black platform boots. That girl loves misery. Placing the misshapen loofah back on its shelf, I hurry out of the back and find my boss, Brook Taylor, standing behind the counter wearing a tight leopard print dress and four-inch stilettos. Brook makes Luanne look like a senator’s wife, and that’s really saying something.
“Hey, you!” Brook calls out as she spots me. “I’ve just picked up our new hot product, flavored body powders. Let’s see…there’s strawberry, honey, chocolate, caramel, and marshmallow,” she says, placing each on the counter in a long row. “They’re all shimmery powders but I think we can sell them as perfume too since they smell so good.”
Brook pulls the lid off the chocolate-flavored product and uses the accompanying puff to lightly dust her wrist with the glittery powder.
“Go ahead, taste it.” Brook, rather unceremoniously, sticks her wrist under my nose, eagerly awaiting my taste test.
“Brook, I’m not going to lick your wrist.”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Ellie, taste it!”
“Yeah, Ellie,” Amber rings in, “lick Brook’s wrist.”
I shoot Amber a venomous expression and take hold of Brook’s chocolate smelling wrist. I do my best to lick the powder off as prudishly as I can, but I’m pretty sure it still comes across as slutty.
“Well?” Brook asks.
“Actually,” I say, licking some errant powder from my lip gloss, “it’s pretty good. It tastes like chocolate and there’s no bitter aftertaste.”
“See, I told you, Amber!” says Brook.
Amber rolls her eyes and grabs the marshmallow-flavored powder from the counter. She liberally dusts the cleavage beneath her spiky necklace before leaning