In a related story, I don't have the cash flow for unnecessary expenses.
"Sure. I may whine and complain the whole way, but I can manage. Worst case, you can carry me."
She's kidding. At least I hope she's kidding.
Chapter 3: Tabitha
Ow. Ow. Ow.
These shoes are definitely not made for walking. That's not even considering the cold and slush on the sidewalks. Gross. A small whimper escapes my lips.
"Did you actually just whine?"
"No, aaaah." Each step is like a thousand knives in the ball of my foot. How did I ever spend hours dancing in heels like this? Perhaps my laid-back Cali-style is getting its revenge. I think I'm developing a bunion. Definitely a blister. "I'm okay." I'm not okay.
"We are literally a block and a half away. Can you make it or not?" There's a terrified edge to his voice that betrays his fear that he isactuallygoing to have to carry me.
I'm a diva, but I'm not that much of a diva. Though if he offered …
"I'll be fine. I will, however, be accepting all offers of a foot rub this evening." As I say this, a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk looks up.
"I'll take that job, honey."
I stop in front of him. I hadn't even seen him there, a pile of rags in a doorway. Oh, that poor man. Quickly I open my purse and pull out … well, I guess he's going to be a hundred dollars richer tonight.
"No, thank you, but please take this. See if you can find yourself someplace warm to stay tonight. It's too cold out here."
"Lady, there ain't even a Code Blue." He narrows his eyes. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
I can say with absolute certainty that I have never seen this man before in my life. It's highly unlikely that he recognizes me. I glance back at Henderson, who shrugs.
"I don't think so," I say measuredly.
"Are you sure? You look like a cat on a hot tin roof. Meow." He swipes imaginary claws at me.
The pain in my feet suddenly does not matter; all that matters is that I get away from this man. Of all the times to be made. And by this guy! I don't want Henderson to see this side of me. Not yet. I'm liking that he's just here for me and not my fame.
I glance back at the man sitting on the ground. How did he recognize me? But he did. There's no doubt about it. "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" was one of our biggest hits. Second only to “Here Kitty Kitty."
God, those song titles were the stupidest things ever.
"Huh. That was weird. I can't believe he meowed at me." Icanbelieve he meowed at me. People do it all the time when they recognize me. They throw the cat paw hand gesture in too. "Poor man. I hope he can get some help."
"That was very generous of you. Did you really give him a Benjamin?"
Heat rushes my face. Not many people have that kind of money to throw around. I shouldn't be showing off in front of him.
"I meant to pull out a twenty." I laugh nervously. "It's fine. I'm sure he needs it more than I do. Plus I'm a little tipsy. I tend to get very generous when I drink."
It's true. I once gave a total stranger my Prada bag. It was so last season and I was over it, but it was still a nice thing to do for a woman who admires your purse in a bar.
"Remind me to get you loaded and then talk to you about some investment opportunities in my business."
I lace my arm through his, partially because I'm unsteady on my feet, which have remembered to hurt, but also because I'm cold. And seeking shelter from anyone else on the street who might recognize me.
And because I'm tipsy, and he's cute.
All in all, it seems like a smart thing to do.
