Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,9

was one way to sum up the implosion of my life.

“What were you thinking?” Brittany peered closely at me. Too closely.

I fought the urge to cover my face with my hands and run screaming.

Diane tipped her head to join in the scrutiny, and I wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to turn on a huge spotlight and ask every shopper in the mall to rate my pores.

“I’ll take a lipstick then I’m out of here.”

Diane arched a single brow--a move I hated, probably because I couldn’t do it. “She’ll start with some skin care.”

A second salesgirl sidled up to Brittany. This one’s nametag read Tiffany, but they might as well have been twins. Their flawless complexions glowed, their long blond hair shone like waterfalls of honey.

“Prevention or recovery?” Tiffany asked.

How about grief? I wanted to say. How about impending divorce?

I stared into their luminous faces and wondered how they got to work each day. Surely they weren’t old enough to drive. Did their parents drop them off? Did they take the bus?

“Um...” Brittany tipped her head to one side, still studying me.

Definitely not the bus, I decided. Hell, they probably had drivers.

“Prevention?” I guessed, wanting to end my misery.

Both heads shook in matching condescension. Great. So far my shopping excursion was doing wonders for the rediscovery of my self-esteem.

“Definitely recovery,” Tiffany offered.

“Definitely,” Brittany agreed. She tipped her head to the other side. “Have you been under a lot of stress or something?”

“Or not sleeping?” Tiffany asked. “Your skin looks like it’s seen better days.”

Heat began to blossom in my cheeks and Diane placed a hand on my arm.

I’d always been the sort of person who kept her thoughts to herself, at least in public. I decided then and there that decorum was overrated.

“Are you this helpful to all of your customers?” I narrowed my gaze first on Tiffany, then on Brittany.

“Oh yeah,” Tiffany answered, jerking her thumb toward a sign hanging on the kiosk wall. “It’s our motto.”

I read the sign and winced.

You are our most important feature.

I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “I was being sarcastic, just so you know.”

“Oh,” Tiffany said, as if she had no idea what that meant.

“You really shouldn’t rub your face like that,” Brittany piped up. “You’re going to make your wrinkles even worse.”

I bit my lip and counted to ten.

“Maybe we should go,” Diane murmured under her breath, her grip tightening on my elbow. “This might have been a bad idea.”

You think?

Tiffany nodded and wrinkled her nose. “Maybe you should be shopping at one of the mall anchor stores. Rediscover You might be a little too young for your needs.”

That straw broke this camel’s back.

I’d held it together...all right, basically held it together...through Ryan’s departure and my dad’s funeral, but I had zero intention of holding it together for some little smart-mouthed chippy who needed to be put in her place.

“What did you say to me?” I leaned menacingly across the counter and both girls went slightly pale.

I’m not ashamed to admit my sense of power was more than a little heady.

Diane, no doubt anticipating my impending loss of self-control, tugged on my arm. “Bernie. Let’s go.”

I shook her off, leaning so far across the counter my feet dangled. The stunned kiosk counter duo said nothing.

“I asked a question. Polite society dictates you answer.” I pursed my lips. “Or did they not cover manners yet in your preschool class?”

“Bernie.” Diane hooked one hand into the waistband of my velour lounging pants and yanked.

I released my grip on the counter long enough to swat her away.

Brittany and Tiffany huddled together, sidestepping toward the register, no doubt making a move for the help-there’s-a-middle-aged-wrinkled-woman-threatening-us silent alarm.

They morphed into something far more sinister than Rediscover You employees at that moment...at least in my eyes. To me, they represented every perfectly coiffed, perfectly perfect specimen of the female race, including the woman I liked to think of as PSB--pregnant slut bimbo--also known as Ryan’s new love.

To this day, I don’t know how I did it, but I hurtled over the counter. I jumped up, pivoted on my velour-encased derriere and dropped down into the inner sanctum of flawless-skinned cosmetic sales.

I felt a bit like Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining at the moment he chops through the bathroom door with an ax. Determined. Focused. And most likely out of my mind.

“Know what you need?”

Both girls shook their heads, and I couldn’t help but notice the way their lustrous tresses reflected the glow of the overhead lights. Had