I was driving north on Gulf Boulevard, on my way to a small, elite shopping plaza in South Pasadena. I had every intention of giving my credit cards a healthy workout. The windows were up, the air conditioner was on full blast, and a top forty station was blaring on the radio. Traffic moved along at a good clip, but I was in no hurry and didn’t feel like speeding. I sang along with the radio. Humph. I could have given Darby a run for his money at karaoke.
A green Ford Focus flew past me on the left, but I didn’t see who was driving. My heart skipped a beat. Was that Skinny Guy again? I turned the radio down to concentrate on my driving and surroundings. A minute later, I saw what looked like another green Focus going past me in the opposite direction. Before I arrived at the plaza, another green car sped past. A girl talking on her cell phone was driving this one. My paranoia factor was running high.
I parked the rental car at the south end of the lot and went into the first boutique, Rainforest Skins. I was taken aback by the amount of lush, tropical plants in the small space. Interspersed throughout the plants were handbags and belts made from exotic skins. The belts were mostly snakeskin, but a hot pink crocodile belt caught my eye. It was thin with a gold buckle and would be a perfect accent for the ivory linen dress I bought last month. The price tag told me the belt was out of my league, but not by much. The clerk swiped my card, and I was on my way to the next shop.
Shopping always cured what ailed me. Tensions slipped away when I was spending money, especially on clothing and shoes. The reason I worked two jobs was to support my shopping habit. At least it was at first. I enjoyed working at the racquetball club so much, I would still work there even if I didn’t want the extra money.
I stepped into the next small shop. The store specialized in Italian silk ties. There was very little decor outside of a few wooden accents. The lone male clerk behind the main counter fussed with merchandise in the case. He didn’t smile and his demeanor was less than friendly.
“May I help you?” he asked.
He had actually raised his head and looked down his nose at me. His tone was snobbish. I found him to be a humorous character.
I smiled. “No, thank you. I’m just browsing.”
“They always are,” he muttered under his breath.
It crossed my mind that Mick always wore such handsome ties to work. He would surely love these beautiful silk ties. I picked out a pink tie with a faint Roman coin motif. If things didn’t work out for Mick and me, I could always give the tie to my dad at Christmas.
I wanted to get something for Darby as a thank you for allowing me to crash his vacation, but I had never seen him wear a tie and didn’t think he would appreciate one. I held up a purple tie with large paisleys. It reminded me of my newfound knowledge of Darby’s gayness. I accidentally let out a chuckle-snort. The clerk threw his head up again and shot a look of disapproval my way. I set the purple tie down, handed the pink one to him, and said sweetly, “I’ll take this one.”
I passed on the bath and lotion shop, the home decor shop, and the men’s shoe shop. I nearly squealed when I walked into the next shop, Swimming In Heels. Shoes and swimwear. I could spend a week in this store, and it was going to break the bank for sure.
Over an hour later, I had three shoeboxes stacked on the counter, but I wasn’t leaving without a new swimsuit. My first choice was a scarlet suit with a bandeau top and hipster bottom. I almost felt naughty in it. The bandeau top was extremely flattering and had a pushup effect. Hours and hours of racquetball certainly paid off when it came to swimsuits. I happily placed the suit on top of the shoeboxes.
A two-piece terrycloth suit was my second choice. It was a light beige color, nearly matching my own skin tone. The top tied around my neck, and there was a terrycloth bow on the front. The bottom was also a hipster. I loved the simplicity of the suit and added it to the stack.
I looked at my watch. If I was going to have time to play racquetball, I was going to have to give the shopping a rest. My budget was screaming for me to stop anyway. I paid for my purchases and left the shop.
My arms were full, and I had to walk quite a distance back to the south end of the lot. I rounded a mini-van and could see the problem before I even walked up to the car. Four flat tires.
“Come on!” I yelled in exasperation.
I set my packages on the ground next to the car and leaned against the door. I knew without a doubt that Skinny Guy was responsible for this. But why? I called a cab for me, and I called the car rental agency for retrieval of the car.