“But she’s my friend. And a shoe expert. I want her opinion.” She smiled at me, all faith, hope, and naivete.
“I’m not an expert,” I said. Nor was I her friend. But she was nice enough. What was her name again?
Zack narrowed his eyes. “You work with shoes every day.”
“I put them on a shelf and check for sizes in the back. I’m not trained in party princess etiquette,” I said.
Sparkles deflated in her puffy coat. “That’s okay. I’ll browse on my own for a bit. It was nice to see you again.” With a weak smile and a wave, she meandered toward the shelves, shuffling to a depressing tinkle from the bells tied to her laces.
I jerked my chin at her backside. “Is that sad-puppy routine how she convinced you to go shopping?”
“Basically,” he deadpanned.
Well, I wasn’t going to follow her around while we played Find the Subjectively Perfect Pair For Me. Zack lingered, vaguely casting his gaze across the shoe counter. Why was he here instead of hanging with her or browsing for his own stuff? She was into that tatted-up barista from The Bern, if I remembered correctly, so she and Zack couldn’t be dating.
Leave, I silently commanded him. I crossed my arms and cocked my hips. Once they were gone, I could get back to my catwalk practice. “Do you need anything?” I asked.
He glanced at the Help Wanted sign on the desk by our leather polish kits. I was tempted to slap that sign down so he couldn’t read it. Five minutes with Zack was one thing. An entire shift? No thanks. We had four years of high school together, and that was enough for a lifetime.
He furrowed his brow. “No, we’ll be fine.”
“Great. Just ‘ding’ if you need anything.” I flashed him an insincere smile, then retreated to the back. I frowned at the piles of everyday shoes and boxed designer goods. I couldn’t hear my boss’s snores or the sound of his chair rolling around, so I had no clue if I had free reign of the bins for a few more minutes. The pink gym shoes a few layers deep made me think of ‘Sugarplum,’ though.
No way she could make a living entertaining at someone’s birthday party. Maybe if she was stripping. But she said she couldn’t dance in heels, so what the hell was she doing? Didn’t she want to make her own money?
I snatched the pink shoes, then stormed to the front. At the very least, I’d make sure she was cute and comfy. The girl needed my expertise, and I could handle the quarterback no matter how much he tried to ring my bell or push my buttons.
2
Speak to Me
I found Sparkles petting a fluffy boot, though neither her nor Zack saw me from several displays away.
“Those won’t be good for summer,” he said, his voice carrying, “I thought you needed a pair to last the whole year.”
“I do,” she said.
“So why are you wasting your time with these?”
She put the boot back on the display and shrugged. “They spoke to me.”
“They’re shoes. They don’t speak.”
“Not to you, maybe,” she teased.
He sighed and shook his head. “I need coffee for this. You said Harvey’s working?”
“Yeah, you can go ahead, although I kinda wanted to surprise him.” Her fingers danced across the shelves. “I guess I’ll go with you and come back later. I should say goodbye to my friend, first.”
“That girl is not your friend,” he said.
I strangled an indignant noise in the back of my throat. The guy had teammates and cheerleaders in every class. What did he know about friendship?
“Hey,” I said, overly bright–at least in tone, if not form, and dangled the pink gym shoes at her. “What do you think of these?”
Zack glared, his shoulder blocking the path between us, but the girl brightened considerably.
“I love pink,” Sparkles said. “I’m not sure if gym shoes would be too casual to match my outfit, though.”
