Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
My eyes widened in panic, my cheeks so hot I swear they could keep me and anyone in the vicinity warm during a New York winter. “Seriously, this is a complete misunderstanding.” Fuck. My. Life!
The assistant’s expression softened. “I don’t think security is necessary. It seems like a mistake to me.”
“She tried to steal my coat. This coat costs more than everything in your store combined!”
He raised an imperious eyebrow, huffed at the insult, and promptly stalked off.
“Uh, hello!”
“Hey, hey, hi.” I grabbed her attention. “I am so sorry. I really thought it was for sale, and I could explain to you about the loss of my own trench coa—” I stopped at her darkening expression and hurried on. “But clearly you’re a busy woman, so let me just make this whole misunderstanding up to you. I’ll, uh . . . I’ll, uh . . .” I glanced around the store, looking for the cheapest thing I could gift her.
What? I was nice, not a Rockefeller.
Spotting a rack of novelty socks, I gestured to them like they were made of gold. “I’ll buy you a pair of socks!”
Trench Coat Woman scowled ferociously at me. Then, just when I thought she might start shrieking for security again, she looked at the rack of socks in consideration. “What kind of socks?”
Relief made my body sag. “Any kind of socks you like.”
She stalked over to the sock rack and I tentatively followed her. Turning the rack, she surveyed her options. “Any pair?”
Crap, she was so going to choose the most expensive ones. “Any pair.”
“How about this pair?” She lifted a pair of bright pink socks with brown kittens on them.
I grimaced without thinking. “Those? Really?”
The woman’s face mottled with renewed anger.
Oh, shit in a sandstorm. I pulled the socks off the rack. “Cutest socks ever.”
She looked like she was plotting my death.
Seriously.
Angry, angry lady.
Seeing another pair of socks in blue with white kittens, I grabbed those. “And I’ll even throw in these. So cute.” My smile strained with eagerness. “Your glasses are awesome, by the way.”
After a few seconds of scowling, Trench Coat Woman’s face softened. “They are really awesome.” She reached back toward the sock rack. “Can I get the yellow pair with the red kittens too?”
* * *
“I didn’t tell Althea,” I said into the camera, still mortified from today’s shenanigans. “I mean . . . there’s just so much even your best friend can accept as truth. No one would believe a person if they told them they almost died on the subway losing their coat, lied to a bunch of teens that it was a deliberate stunt, got broken up with on the same day, and then accidentally tried on the angriest woman in the world’s coat less than twenty-four hours later and got accused of stealing it. And then had to fork over forty bucks for three pairs of kitten socks just to appease her.” I groaned into my hands and then flopped back in my seat. “Seriously. I’m exhausted. And I haven’t even gotten around to what happened a few hours later.”
* * *
Concerned that my mom’s video might go viral beyond my immediate circles, I’d deleted that social media app for a few days. I just didn’t want to know about it if it was out of my control. However, deciding I’d have heard if it had anyway, and that nothing worse could surely happen to me today, I’d reinstalled the app during my commute home from work.
Thankfully, Aunt Julia had gotten Jenna to delete the video of Mom, but clearly not before it was shared with all my friends and extended family. My inbox was full of messages from people asking about it, friends telling me I must be so mortified, family scolding my mom or cheering her on, depending on whose side of the divorce they were on.
I emailed back family members who had berated me as if it were my fault, apologizing if the video had upset them and reminding them my mother had been drunk, and “Hadn’t we all done things we regretted when drunk?” I’m looking at you, Aunt Keira. She once danced topless on her pool table at a New Year’s Eve party in front of children . . . and she had the audacity to call my mom an embarrassment to the family.
Done with that, I finally listened to the voice mail message my dad had left me after I failed to answer his calls.
“Hallie Meredith Goodman, I put you through college, young lady. Why am I getting calls and texts about some pornographic video your mother starred in? I shouldn’t have to deal with your mom’s ridiculousness. I don’t want this to get back to Miranda. And call me—Alison wants a pool party for her sixteenth birthday, and Miranda would like your help to plan it. I said you’d do it for free since we’re all family. Call me back, Hallie.”