Skinnydipping (24 page)

“Mm-hm,” said Gloria, as if I were trying to sell her a used car.

“So I got this idea that I could open up one of those little storefronts that sells people’s stuff on eBay. I thought it would be really fun, and I’d be great at it because I buy everything on eBay. I’m an eBay expert at this point. In fact, you should see the Michael Kors skirt I just got …” I paused. Oh Jesus, maybe I shouldn’t be telling her about my recent purchases.

“Anyway. I was seeing this guy at the time, Saul D’Angelo. He was
an Italian mobster wannabe, who happened to have gone to the best private schools, so the gangster persona didn’t really fly. You know the type?”

“Not really,” Gloria said.

“Well, he wasn’t the nicest guy. He’d tell me I was frigid whenever I had a headache. He’d tell me my boobs were saggy, or he’d make fun of me for being old, because I was two years older than him.”

“I know
that
type,” Gloria said. Did I detect a hint of sympathy? I jumped on it.

“An asshole, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Gloria said. Now she sounded more like she was in church. I was preaching to the choir.

“And I knew it, but I couldn’t get away from him because just after he was at his meanest, he’d tell me how sorry he was and how much he loved me, and I couldn’t resist him. There was just something about him. I kind of bought his tough-guy bullshit. And I thought I was in love with him, when I was really just trying to forget someone else I’d been in love with before.”

“I hear that,” Gloria said. “But ma’am, remind me what this has to do with your inability to pay this bill.”

“I’m getting there, I swear!” I said. “So, I wanted to open this eBay store. I saved up money, but I wasn’t making very much so it was taking forever. When I finally told Saul about it, he told me he could get me a storefront, and if I put the year’s rent on my credit card, he would pay the monthly payments.”

“And you fell for that?” Gloria said.

“He seemed like he really wanted to help me,” I said. “In my defense, we’d paid for things like that before. Saul had a ton of money but really bad credit.”

“Mm-hm,” Gloria said. I could see she wasn’t won over just yet.

“So, he finds me this great place on the Upper East Side, not too far from my apartment, and I put the whole year’s rent on my card. So then he tells me he can get me a huge amount of inventory to sell, because
he knows people. I probably should have been suspicious, but he said I just needed to make a deposit on the stuff, and then I’d get double the money back when I sold it.”

“Honey, you’re too trusting,” she said. “Tell me this didn’t turn out badly.”

Gloria was very perceptive.

“It was all so much fun for the first couple of weeks. I got the coolest stuff—antiques, beautiful designer clothes, a Vera Wang wedding gown, a couple of Rolexes, and this beautiful five-carat diamond engagement ring. I would pretend it was all mine, and then I started taking photos and listing everything.”

“So what happened?” Gloria said.

“Within two weeks, the police were at the door. Everything had been stolen. It was all hot.
Everything.
Jewelry, designer clothes, antique china, electronics. The list of sellers I’d been given to forward the money to were all fake, it was all going to the people who stole it in the first place—apparently it was some Russian crime ring. The cops took everything into evidence. And that was the end of my business.”

“Did you make him pay up?” Gloria said.

“Um …” I said. “Well, actually, that’s when I found out Saul had been cheating on me the whole time with an eighteen-year-old waitress.”

“Mm-hm,” Gloria said.

“So I dumped him. I had to. My self-respect was at risk! But then he refused to pay the rent on the place. I had to close down. I couldn’t afford to sue him for it, and I didn’t even know if I would win. I didn’t have any merchandise, but there I was, stuck with a year’s worth of rent and a big deposit on all the stolen stuff, and nobody to help me pay for it.”

“And that’s what’s on this credit card? Because I’m not hearing the good news.”

“But wait, there
is
good news!” I insisted.

“Ms. Brightstone, please get to the point,” she said. At least “Ms. Brightstone” was a step up from “ma’am.”

“I just wanted to explain to you how the balance on the card got
so high. And let me tell you, I certainly learned to be a lot more careful about selecting business partners. Anyway, so here I am, with this huge balance, and an empty storefront on my hands for the next year. I needed money, and I’m a really good baker, so I got a job at a vegan bakery to help pay the bills, while doing the event planning at night. But I still wasn’t making enough. So then I got an idea.”

“Does this one involve any boyfriends?” Gloria said.

“No, and that’s exactly why I think it’s going to work!” I said. “I developed a lot of great muffin recipes while working for this vegan bakery, and people started asking specifically for the muffins I made. So, our event-planning company had these portable stoves. And I had this empty shop space. So, I sort of borrowed one of the stoves and brought it over to the shop space, and I bought a bunch of the baking supplies for cost down in Chinatown, and I started baking my own vegan muffins.”

“Vegan muffins?” said Gloria.

“Yes!” I said. “They’re so good. I wish you could try one right now, you’d totally see the opportunity. Give me your address, and I’ll send you a package.”

“Is that supposed to be a bribe?” Gloria asked.

“No!” I said. “Of course not! I just want you to understand how much potential they have.”

“Mm-hm,” Gloria said, back to playing the cynic. “And this is going to make you some money how, exactly?”

She was killing me! But I was determined to finish my story.

“There I was, perfecting my recipes and trying them out on all my friends, and they’re all saying, ‘Faith, you have to start a business!’ So, I start talking to one of my ex-boyfriends, Stefan, who used to work for a bakery corporation as an executive, and I convinced him to invest.”

“‘Invest’ is the first promising word I’ve heard out of you so far,” she said. “But I thought you said this didn’t involve a boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I corrected her. “And I told you the good news was coming,” I said. “So, Stefan told me about the Fancy Food Show, this major trade show here in New York where a lot of gourmet food businesses debut, and he signed me up. We’re going to introduce Have
Faith Muffins at the show. We’ve even hired a bakery assistant and a small temp staff to get us ready, and transformed my old eBay shop space into a little bakery.”

“Thanks to the ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, true, but Gloria, you should taste these muffins. They’re fantastic. They’re going to be huge. They can’t fail. Who wouldn’t want to eat Have Faith Muffins?”

“Cute name,” she admitted.

“So you see, I predict a big influx of cash in the very near future. Please, tell me you can give me just a little more time. I can probably pay off the whole balance at once, after the show.”

“Mm-hm,” said Gloria.

“Come on, just give me a chance. Things are going to change for me, I can feel it.”

“Well …” said Gloria, pausing. I waited in hopeful silence. Finally, she said, “Let me see if I can get the eBay merchandise charges removed, since that was for stolen merchandise. Do you have any proof, like a police report?”

“Yes!” I said. This was great news. I didn’t even know that was possible.

“Fax it to me. And as for the rest of it, the year’s lease, I can give you until the end of the month. But at that time, the remaining balance needs to be paid
in full.
Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do, thank you so, so much Gloria!” I said, feeling a huge sense of relief. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“And honey? Do it on your own next time. Don’t rely on a man.”

“That sounds like very good advice. Thanks, Gloria,” I said.

I hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch. Convincing strangers that my luck was about to change was exhausting. Now all I had to do was convince myself.

I had a feeling I was going to need some insurance, just in case the Fancy Food Show didn’t go as I hoped it would. I went into my bedroom and stared into my closet at the rows of expensive shoes and designer
handbags. I didn’t want to do it, but I realized I had no choice. I was going to have to sell something.

I took a red Marc Jacobs hobo bag off of a hook. I loved it. Could I bear to part with it? Maybe that and the Gucci tote. I picked up a pink Fendi baguette and put the Marc Jacobs bag back on the hook. I eyed the Van Cleef & Arpels necklace that my former fiancé had given me. No, maybe I would keep those in reserve. I didn’t want to think about him right now. I’d process that later. I put the two handbags into a shopping bag, and headed out the door.

“Faith! You brighten my day
whenever you come into my modest little shop.”

“Sure, Gus … modest,” I said, looking at the black leather thigh-high Jimmy Choo boots he was repairing. Gus’s Shoe Repair Shop was a tiny, old-fashioned storefront just a few blocks from my apartment, where Gus reheeled and repaired some of the most amazing shoes I’d ever seen. He also sold shoes and handbags on consignment, originals and knockoffs, and had a case of jewelry and watches. I’d first discovered him when I broke a heel off my favorite pair of red pointy-toed Manolos. “Can you sell these for me?”

Gus was an unusually short, wrinkled little German man with a head of thick, lush wavy gray hair and a big grin that showed off his dazzling false teeth. “For you? Of course!” He held out his thick, stubby hands and I handed him the Gucci and Fendi bags. He looked them over. “Nice. Very nice.”

“As soon as possible—I need the money yesterday,” I said, trying not to think about the fact that I was selling handbags to pay a bill that I’d racked up in part by buying handbags. And shoes. I hadn’t mentioned to Gloria the fashion purchases that had further elevated my already bloated bill. I picked up a pair of black patent-leather Louboutin platform pumps with red soles, on consignment for just $300, less than half of what they cost new. “These are gorgeous.”

Gus raised his eyebrows at me, and I put them back down. “You’re going the wrong way,” he said.

“I know. I know!” I said.

He wagged a finger at me. “Now you be good!” he lectured. “And I’ll have some money for you soon.”

I walked out of his store and down Madison, past bistros and spas, wine bars and the pet salon where I had Muffin groomed. I passed one of those euro-cafés on Madison that I can never afford unless someone takes me there, where I’d heard that the high-class prostitutes get a 40 percent discount. I was still annoyed that I couldn’t get the hooker discount. But I’d passed on that opportunity back in L.A.

Although I hadn’t burdened Gloria with the details, I’d just broken off an engagement to a man who loved me, who was nice and handsome and wealthy and had actually offered to pay off every penny of my debt if I married him and moved to Westchester. And I’d just said no. I needed my friend Bronwyn to remind me why.

She was the only mostly happily married friend I had, though she was never one to push the institution on me. Instead, she’d obsess about all the details of my single life, the good and the horrific, living vicariously through me. She dieted obsessively and went on and on about how I could eat whatever I wanted and still be skinny, no matter how many times I told her how much I’d struggled to get over all of that. I waved to her. She was already sitting at a table outside.

“What’s wrong with me?” I said, as I pulled out the chair. “I practically left him at the altar. Am I insane?”

“Orin was a really nice guy, but he wasn’t right for you,” said Bronwyn. She waved at a waiter. “Iced tea and …” she looked at me.

“A pint glass of vodka?” I suggested.

“Two iced teas!” she said.

“I have creditors about to knock down my door. He was going to pay off everything.”

“And you’re not some whore looking for a payoff,” she said.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” I said.

“Look, he’s a catch. On paper. He’s a big Wall Street trader, he’s
rich, he’s handsome, he’s nice to you. He wants to rescue you and whisk you off to suburbia to live in a big house with a white picket fence and have his babies. Come on, he’s so not your type.”

“Why isn’t that my type again?” I said.

“You want to make it on your own.”

“Well, I’m doing a bang-up job so far,” I said, cynically.

“Three words: Fancy Food Show.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You’re right.”

It was a warm beautiful day and suddenly I was full of hope. Bronwyn was just telling me what I already knew, which is exactly what I needed. I couldn’t have married any of the men I’d been with before, and although I got the closest with Orin, had even accepted his proposal, I’d had to break it off. I realized I wouldn’t have been happy. None of those men were the right men at the right time. Maybe I would never get married. Did it really matter?

“I don’t care if I ever get married,” I said, trying out the idea.