Claiming Callie: Part one (3 page)

The room goes silent, and when the doorbell rings a moment later, relief floods Callie at the reprieve. She gets to her feet and grabs her purse, then swings open the door to see the familiar face of the delivery boy.

“Chinese,” she announces from the doorway, then hands over some cash and shuts the door behind her. She juggles three bags of food in her arms while making her way into the kitchen. “Dinner’s here.”

Jinny joins her in the kitchen and eyeballs the food, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What?” Callie asks, eyes wide.

Jinny waves a hand at the spread. “This is part of the problem! I don’t think you needed to order forty bucks worth of take-out.”

Callie sniffs and busies herself with unloading the cartons of food. “What, now I can’t even eat? See, I told you this was hopeless. What am I supposed to do for food?”

“Um…eat in.”

“I am,” Callie points out.

“Here’s a novel idea. You could actually cook something or make it yourself.”

Callie blinks at her, then stomps over to the oven and wrenches open the door. Two rows of brightly colored shoes stare back at them. “And what would you like me to do with these?”

Dean moves into the kitchen, squinting at the contents of the oven. “Are those…shoes?”

Jinny smirks. “Yes. When Callie started running out of closet space, she decided to start using other parts of the apartment to house her excess crap.”

“Crap?” Callie raises a brow. “There’s BCBG in there, Michael Kors, and even some Kate Spade.” She shakes her head. “Besides, it’s not like we ever use this thing. It’s not like
you
cook.”

 “Because I don’t have to now. I have a boyfriend who spoils me and takes me out to eat all the time, and the rest of the time I eat salads and cereal.”

“If only we could all be so lucky.”

Jinny picks up a container and sniffs it, then grabs a pair of chopsticks. “All I’m saying is, you could buy just one or two things then. You don’t have to get everything on the menu.”

Callie nods toward Dean. “Have you ever seen your brother eat? He’s like a human garbage disposal.”

“True.” Dean nods with his mouth full of General Tso’s. “And for the record, I think she made me a grilled cheese once,” he says, hooking a thumb in Callie’s direction. “I still get stomach cramps just thinking about it.” He shudders.

Jinny narrows her eyes at him. “You’re not helping. Callie, a diet of bologna sandwiches and ramen noodles for six months wouldn’t kill you if it meant saving a couple hundred bucks a month.”

Callie’s mouth drops open.
Yuck
. “You really think that’s what I need to do?”

“Well, you’ve got to do something,” Jinny says. “You don’t make much interning. So, you’re going to have to find a way to cut corners and save the money you do make. Time is not on your side.”

Callie swallows a bite and sighs. “You’re right. Oh,
gawd.
I don’t think I can do it. I mean, eating nothing but processed foods for six months, no shopping, no new shoes or cute spring dresses. I won’t be able to buy those super cute lobster-colored skinny jeans I wanted, or the strappy sandals with the silver crystals.” Her eyes took on a faraway look.

Jinny shakes her head, her mouth twisting. “Explain to me again why you aren’t a fashion major? I don’t think slumming it like the rest of us and shopping at Target would be such a horrible thing.”

A piece of chicken lodges in Callie’s throat. She coughs, choking it up. “Target? There has to be another way. Anywhere they sells groceries in the next section over has no business in fashion.”

Jinny laughs. “Not all of them stock food. Seriously though, I don’t see what else you’re going to do.”

Neither do I.

“I have an idea,” Dean says, shoveling in another forkful.

“Thank God. Another solution.” Callie turns to him at the table, eyes glittering with expectation.

“You could have a massive auction. Sell all your stuff. Or put everything up on eBay. We could even spread fliers around campus. I’m sure there’s a lot of chicks who would pay for some of your stuff, with all the designer names and all that.”

“
What?”
Callie’s staring at Dean like he’s grown a second head.
Clearly, he must be joking.

Jinny shakes her head, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Wow. I hate to say this…in fact, it kills me to admit it, but that’s genius. Callie, you really could do that. You’d make a pretty penny and could plunk it all down on your cards. It would be an awesome start.”

Callie’s chest throbs. All the air leaves her lungs in a rush, as if she’s been punched. She clutches her midsection for fear that she might split in two if she doesn’t hold herself together. “Sell all my stuff?” Her voice cracks.

“Totally.” Jinny’s eyes light up, the brown sparkling under the kitchen lights. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” She turns and heads to Callie’s room.

“Wait!” Callie pushes away from the table and runs after her.

Oh, no. This. Is. Not. Happening.

Her head spins as she skids to a halt in front of her closet and watches Jinny, already knee-deep in the contents, pulling out handbags, clutches, shoes, and everything in between. She’s throwing them into a pile with superhuman speed, and all Callie can do is watch in horror as the pile grows into a mountain. Behind her, she hears the footfall of Dean’s approach and the soft whistle under his breath as he takes in the amount of stuff Jinny has already purged from her
over-packed
closet.

“There’s no need for this many bags,” Jinny says as she rips through the container housing all of Callie’s purses. “You just need one or two, and I see you carry this one most often, so the rest can go. Look at these—Guess, Coach, Burberry, Dooney & Bourke, and Chanel—really? You have a Chanel handbag? And I know it’s not a knockoff. Callie Cartwright wouldn’t be caught dead with a knockoff.”

Callie’s stomach summersaults as she sees her Chanel go flying to the top of the pile. “No!” she wails. “No, no, no.” She leaps to the purse and snatches it up. “I don’t judge. Why should you? If you want to carry a purse made from vinyl, bought at one of those little kiosks in the mall where the profits, most likely, go overseas to aid terrorism, that’s your prerogative, but don’t judge me for getting the real thing.”

Her eyes begin to tear as Jinny turns to her. She knows it’s stupid and irrational, but the thought of selling her things is no less excruciating than the thought of amputating an arm. They define her. Maybe they shouldn’t, but they make her happy, and her heart is ready to jump out of her chest at the thought of parting with it all.

Jinny’s eyes soften and she stands, placing her hands on Callie’s arms, which are wrapped around the purse so tight it would take an army to remove it. “I’m just trying to help. I’ve watched you buy this stuff for years. You spent all the extra cash you got from your parents—”

“Don’t.” Callie raises a hand and closes her eyes. The lump in her throat grows as an image of her parents flashes through her head.

Sighing, Jinny continues. “All I’m saying is that, for years, I watched you spend all that money they left you, and on what? Purses, bags, shoes, clothes…and you’re still spending. Where does it end? You’re spending money you don’t have. You have a ton of debt to prove it. Thank God my parents took charge and put some of the funds in an account to pay for your room and board at school, or you’d be screwed.”

“This purse has memories,” Callie shoots back, although she knows this doesn’t address, in any way, the things her best friend just said. But she can’t think about that right now.

She glances down at her black Nine West pumps and points. “Those I got from Ray. Remember?” she asks, referring to her high school boyfriend. “He bought them for me to wear to high school graduation.” She steps around the pile of purses and grapples with a pair of Calvin Klein wedges. “And these I got from that creepy podiatrist. You remember the one. We went out a few months until I found out he lied about his age, said he was twenty-eight, but he was really thirty-five, and had a foot fetish. I earned these just for having to endure several months with that freak.”

“I’ll play.” Dean moves into the closet with the girls and lifts up a silver purse. “This one?”

Callie smiles, and her whole face lights up. “Oh! That’s the Kate Spade I got from that boy I dated freshman year. His mom was a manager at Nordstrom and he got a discount. That was one of the best birthdays ever! He even took me to this cozy restaurant on the river downtown. Super classy and super expensive…”

Dean smiles and glances around him to a shelf of sunglasses and plucks out a pair. “And these?” He wiggles them in his fingers.

“Hmmm…” Callie steps forward and considers the glasses. “Oh, how could I forget? Those are the Ray-Bans Mark got me as an apology for cheating on me last year. Nice shot at making up, but no go.” She snatches them from Dean’s grip and puts them on. “At least I got something out of that jerk.”

Dean chuckles, but when Callie glances at Jinny, she does
not
look amused.

Jinny stands, hands on hips, and her lips press into a firm line. “I never realized it, but you do get a lot of stuff from men, don’t you? And how do you do that, by the way? Do you only date guys with money? I mean, seriously!”

Callie’s mouth opens in offense. “Of course not. Randy got that purse at a discount. He probably paid $200, which isn’t unheard-of for an anniversary present. And those sunglasses were maybe $150. We’re not talking about obscene amounts. The super expensive stuff I bought throughout the years, and some of it was purchased at discount stores. But I can’t help it if the guys I date tend to buy me things…” Callie’s voice trails off. She stares into her closet, but sees nothing as an idea sparks in her head.

“That’s it,” she says quietly.

“What’s it?” Jinny and Dean ask in unison.

“Okay, what’s my biggest hurdle to saving the cash I make and putting it on my credit cards? Besides the fact that I don’t make all that much.”

But Callie doesn’t wait for an answer, she moves out of her closet, her thoughts on overdrive as she paces her bedroom. “Shopping. I
love
to shop. I love new clothes and shoes and I love going out to eat. I don’t cook…”

“Okay, so…we’ve already established all this,” Jinny says, the impatience in her voice obvious.

Callie spins around, her grin widening despite Jinny’s tone. “So, I’ll date. A lot. I’ll get an online dating profile. I’ll get most of my meals paid for—dinners, lunches…” She stops pacing and bites her lip. “No, that won’t work. It’s not enough. Saving on meals is a start, but I need more…I need to get
paid
to date.”

She squeals, startling Jinny, who jumps, then clutches at her chest. “That’s it!” Callie screams. “I’ll be an escort.”

Jinny stares at her like she’s gone completely insane, and the only thing that even budges on Dean are his eyes, which have widened to the size of her fists.

“I truly hope you’re joking,” Jinny says.

“What? It’s the perfect solution. Everybody wins. I get free meals and get paid to date. I will put most of the money aside, but will also make enough to buy myself a little something here and there.”

“So you’re going to pimp yourself out?”

 Callie frowns. She hadn’t thought of it like that. Of course, she hasn’t really thought this plan out much at all. It just came to her. But that’s definitely not what she’d be doing.

“No. I’ll have clear guidelines, so there are no misunderstandings. There are actual escorts out there. It’s not like I’d be the first one. People will, literally, be paying me for a date or for the pleasure of my company. And who wouldn’t want that? I’m young, attractive, smart…”