What A Girl Wants (5 page)

“Jesus! Fucking! Christ!”

She scared the little shit so badly it yipped and then peed on her sweater.

Every single person in the office gophered up out of the cubes, and a grim silence descended over the humid workspace.

Hayley looked out at the sea of faces and just smiled weakly at them all. It was all she could manage. “Heh. Ha-ha?”
Oh, boy.

Behind her back she heard one of the engineers say to the other, “Did she just kick the dog? Man. Poor Ponzi.”

Lovely.
It was the last thought she had before the admin appeared and summoned her back to Janice's office. Really, Hayley didn't know what was worse, being offered head by the company mutt or . . . no, that was pretty bad.

On her way there, she decided to refuse to apologize for creating a ruckus, and within five minutes, she'd been fired. Just like that. The official grounds Janice cited were poor performance and irreconcilable incompatibility with the company mission statement.

Granted, “Jesus fucking Christ” wasn't the best thing to scream out in a crowded office, but it certainly wasn't the worst. Really, from a legal perspective, her behavior was probably good only for some sort of warning or probation, probably justifiable as a condition brought about by the emotional trauma of Fred's death.

But then Hayley inexplicably had gone on to dig her own grave with a diatribe about the fact that there was obviously no freedom
of religious expression at this company, but the graphic designer's dog was allowed to run rampant and piss in people's workspaces, and what's more, she wasn't trying to convert anyone in the office, so what was the big deal. . . .

Within half an hour, a security guard from the lobby was summoned to Hayley's cube with three new packing boxes and two used ones with orange stickers pasted all around the sides.

Hayley stared in horror at the stickered boxes, at the bright orange stickers labeled “
Basura
.” Spanish for the word “trash.” She could feel her face flaming, and of course her nose was running now. She swiped at it with the back of her hand and quickly sorted through the contents of her cube, placing things in the appropriate boxes.
Basura?
Or
casa?
It didn't take long to pack up.

She picked up the box and, after a stunned glance behind her, left the blue sweater crumpled and stained on the floor.

Back on the bus, Hayley stared unseeing at the box in her lap. The most feared and reviled of dot-com exit scenarios; she'd been unceremoniously “
basura
ed” without the ego cover of an official layoff. It simply didn't get more humiliating than this.

After all, it was nearly impossible to lose your job from a technology company by actually getting fired for performance reasons. Even the biggest slacker, the most idiotic of employees could figure out ways to take advantage of the system or even appear productive.

So why then was Hayley sitting on the bus at ten o'clock in the morning with her personal effects in an open box on her lap and an urge to crawl into bed and assume the fetal position?

• • •

I'm eligible for the unemployment line. The economy's headed down the tubes, and I no longer have a job.

Hayley stared up at the ceiling, back in bed two hours after leaving her house on Friday morning.
I'm either a brilliant strategist with a trump move up my sleeve or a complete moron. . . .

I must be a complete moron.

The phone rang. Hayley didn't move. It rang twice more before the answering machine kicked in. She cringed as the chipper recorded greeting played, then rolled over on her side just enough to get a good look at the black and white photographs of famous Parisian landmarks hanging on the wall, and wish herself anywhere but here.

“Get your ass out of bed and pick up the phone!” Suz. Word traveled fast. Hayley sighed and managed to knock over her lucky bamboo plant as she reached for the phone on the far nightstand.

She sat up properly, righted the bamboo with one hand and picked up the receiver with the other. “ 'Lo.”

“Are you in bed?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Are you dressed?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Excellent. I'm taking over.”

“What? Oh. You talked to Audra about the, uh, the. . . job mishap, didn't you?”

“Yeah, you got fired. I love Audra, but I think it's time to try some new tactics. You should have called me immediately.”

“It would have hurt her feelings if I'd called you first. She
is
my career coach.”

“Well, she's doing a lousy job.”

“Well, you're my relationship coach and I haven't had sex in over a year.”

Silence.

“Suz?”

“Jesus. Don't know what to say. I had no idea you were in such dire straits.”

“Don't rub it in.”

“Well, considering that you've been exhibiting signs of sexual aggression toward the city's police force, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You know, I could give you numbers for a couple of guys who could take care of that for—”

“Oh, for God's sake. One police detective. In unusual circumstances.”

“Okay, okay. Anyway, I've got a plan.”

Oh, God.
“Thanks, Suz, but the job is already gone. There's no point.”

“It's not about the job. It's about the guy.”

“What guy? The policeman?”

“Any guy. I didn't want to say anything at the time, because I didn't want to make the girls feel bad. But it's way easier to get a guy than a raise. Trust me. You just need to understand how the male mind works. It's an incredibly simple instrument with one very basic underlying truth. Once you understand that, you'll feel much better about approaching the men you think have potential.”

“I see. Well, I'm so glad. Um, are you going to tell me what this basic underlying truth is?”

“No. I'm going to show you. That's why I called. I want you to come meet me at the Beer Garden tonight at six. First we practice; then we execute. You just need a little education.”

“Education?” Gulp. “Suz, does this involve intense personal
embarrassment on my part? You know I have a very low personal embarrassment threshold.”

“Hayley, honey, I won't ask you to do anything I won't do myself.”

How comforting. Suz really didn't have a personal embarrassment threshold at all.

T
he minute Hayley followed Suz through the doorway of the Beer Garden, a sense of foreboding washed over her.

She couldn't put her finger on it exactly; she just knew it was more than the eerie combination of hunting-lodge kitsch bathed in the glow of giant red floor-standing lava lamps. More, even, than the sensation of being followed by the eyes of a large moosehead hung over the main bar with plastic flowers entwined in its antlers.

Although it was only a little after six o'clock, Hayley could see that the bar was picking up steam. “You know, just when things seem bleak, there's always a place like a crowded bar full of attractive people having a good time to make things seem even bleaker. Do you fully realize what happened to me yesterday? Do you realize the extent of my trauma? I failed.”

Suz tugged on Hayley's hand and dragged her through the bar to the back room. “You didn't fail. The way I see it, you succeeded beautifully. Instead of a little change you made a big change. Listen, I'm sorry about the job screwup, but I can't help you with that.
That's Audra's domain.” She gestured to the overdecorated dressing room. “But
this
 . . . this is
my
domain. You just need to understand how the game is played. First we need to understand the principles. Tonight we understand the principles, and later we execute.”

“Right. Well, I'll just watch and learn, I guess.” Hayley'd seen Suz doing her thing before, and while it was impressive, it wasn't exactly enlightening. And she couldn't ever recall her own self-esteem improving as a result of watching Suz do anything. But she was making an effort to help, so Hayley kept her mouth shut.

Suz pulled her keys out of her bag and opened a tall gray locker backed up against one wall of the dressing room. After a couple of tugs, she managed to squeeze her elaborate green poofy Johnny Beer girl costume out of the narrow opening.

It was generically Germanic-looking, embroidered with multicolored thread and featuring an extremely short skirt. Well, it was more like a round piece of green fabric that stuck straight out from the waist with a radius of two feet held up by several layers of stiff white lacy petticoat ruffles.

Suz ran her palm down the fabric of her dress and nodded with satisfaction. “For me, being a Johnny Beer girl is the ultimate expression of feminist power.”

Hayley reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a large blond wig with a long braid sticking out from either side. “I see. Sort of like being a stripper?” She grinned at Suz.

Suz didn't grin back. She was all business. “Well, no. Stripping is about showing. Providing. Giving. It involves direct commerce. Being a Johnny Beer girl is about power. Teasing. Toying. And ultimately denial. Unless, of course, you decide you really want him.”

“Okay. I see.” Well, not really.

“Your timing was perfect. Grace is on vacation.” She opened
the locker next to hers, braced her foot on the edge of the metal, and pulled out a second dress.

That fuzzy foreboding sensation became clearer in Hayley's brain.

Suz tossed over the dress and Hayley reflexively caught it. “I e-mailed her about borrowing the costume. She's cool with it, so no problem.”

Hayley held the dress out in front of her as if it were tainted meat. “No problem? No problem?”

“
Is
there a problem?”

“You're asking if there's a problem? You're expecting me to put this on? You're expecting me to put this on and go out there into the bar?
Yes
, there's a problem.”

Suz put her dress on the makeup chair and took Grace's dress out of Hayley's arms and put that on the chair as well. “Let's sit down for a moment and calm ourselves.”

Hayley refused to sit. “You can't lull me into sedation just by using the collective ‘we.' I'm not a Moonie.”

“A Moonie? Where is this coming from?” Suz shrieked with laughter.

Her laughter only made Hayley more stubborn. “I won't do it. I won't wear that dress. You wear the dress and tell me what happens.”

“It's not the same. You have to wear the dress. You must experience the dress for yourself. Humor me for one second. Go stand over by the full-length mirror.”

Jaw set, Hayley walked up to the full-length mirror.
God, I look unhappy. Why am I so unhappy?

From behind, Suz plunked Grace's blond wig down on Hayley's head. The two girls stood there looking into the mirror in
silence. On Grace's wig, the braids looped up in an arc from the sides of the head for a sort of virginal-milkmaid effect.

Hayley couldn't help but smile.

Suz put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “It's not so bad, is it? Kind of fun, don't you think? What do you say?”

“They'll laugh at me. I can't pull this off. I don't have what it takes.” Hayley choked back unexpected emotion.

“Not true,” Suz said. “And that's just the kind of attitude we're here to tackle. This dress is going to show you that you don't have to sit around waiting for what you want.”

Suz adjusted the braids so they weren't quite as U-turn-esque. “You'll practice tonight using the costume and you'll know that you are the same person, just in a large floofy green dress. And then when you're ready, you simply take the dress off and put all the same principles into motion the next time you see a guy you want.”

Hayley didn't answer. It sounded completely ridiculous and totally plausible all at the same time. Finally she just shrugged. It wasn't likely things could get worse. Not to mention, it wasn't likely anyone would recognize her in the costume. She'd probably be the last person they'd expect to see.

Suz sensed that she'd won and leaped into action. “Let's get started. Remember, you're going to feel like it's because of the costume. But it's really not the costume. It's you. But we're just going to take it one step at a time. Okay, petticoats first.”

Hayley stepped into the scratchy white stuff and held it by the waist. “Uh, your pal's a little bigger than me.”

Suz handed her a safety pin and Hayley folded over the waist and pinned it together.

“Arms up; let's go,” Suz barked. She dumped the green dress
over Hayley's head and pulled it down. The white underblouse portion sagged away from Hayley's chest.

Hayley rolled her eyes. Grace carried as much bust as Suz did, maybe more. “Look at this. Look! There's enough room in here to pack for a weekend. I wouldn't even have to take a carry-on.”

She stuck her hand down the front and flapped it against the loose fabric. “In fact, I could probably add a croissant and a cup of coffee and avoid the airplane food. Of course, if I had bigger boobs I wouldn't need a cup holder. I could just shove the cup in my cleavage. And it could be my feed bag. I could just put my face down in my boobs and have a little snack—”

“Stop it.” Suz slapped Hayley's hand away. “You're going to rip the lace. If you're done ranting, we can move on. I've come prepared.” Suz fished around in her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bra. “Here. Put this on.”

An inflatable bra, actually. Closer inspection revealed it was constructed out of silver latex with a black velvet lining. Classy, for a plastic blowup bra.

“No way. No. Way. This is supposed to make things better?”

Suz put her hands on her hips and generated some serious attitude. “No, this is supposed to make things clearer. Look, if you want to do this, quit your bitching.”

“I don't want to this. You want me to do this. And I'm willing to do this. But I don't want to do this. There's a difference.”

“And the difference, my friend, is called inertia. This lack of momentum, the very thing you wish to be cured of, is what is responsible for putting you in an inflatable bra in a Johnny Beer girl dress in the first place.” She thrust the bra under Hayley's nose. “Now, you're going to
put
this bra on and I'm going start
blowing
it
up and you're going to
tell
me when the front of the dress looks right. You got that?”

Hayley swallowed hard, shrugged down the bodice and put the bra on, then slipped back into the top of the dress. Suz used the little side tube to blow air into the cups.

Entranced, Hayley stared in fascination at the mirror. “Hey, look, I'm a C! I'm a C! Now I'm a D. Look at that! Whoa, now I'm a double-D. Hold on. Too much! You'll stretch the dress. A little less . . . little less. Okay, plug it.”

Suz pinched the air tube and tucked it into the dress. “Okay, now it needs just a little positioning.”

Hayley started to bend over at the waist so she could sort of work the bra setup into place, but Suz grabbed her by the back of the dress. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hayley, didn't you study the principle of torque in high school?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You bend over like that in that thing and at best you'll get a head rush like you've never had in your life, and at worst the weight imbalance will tip you over and you'll end up with a concussion.”

“Wow. It's all so exciting,” Hayley said in a deliberate monotone. “Fraught with danger and risk to life and limb.”

Suz rolled her eyes. “Here, let me.” She dived in with both hands and jostled things around for a few seconds while Hayley stared up at the ceiling trying not to think about being groped by one of her best friends.

“You know, the Beer Garden gets a lot of Financial District clientele. Some of Audra's friends could be here. What if they
do
recognize me? I might see these people again.”

“They're going to
want
to see you again. Watch them fall all
over you.” Suz stepped back from Hayley, her hands up as if touched by angelic light. “Wear it and they will come,” she said reverently.

“Yes, master.”

Suz didn't crack a smile. “Remember. You have what they want. With or without the costume, you have what they want.”

“I have what they want,” Hayley intoned. She stepped forward, swaying slightly as she adjusted to the ballast of the petticoats. One boob seemed like it might be losing a little air, and her wig had slipped over one eye.

Suz impaled her with a couple of hairpins to stabilize the wig while Hayley awkwardly leaned down and pumped more air into her chest.

Then Suz quickly dressed herself in the matching costume and handed Hayley a pair of shoes. They were a half size off, but not too bad. Hayley stuffed a wad of tissue in each of the toes and slipped them on.

“Let's go,” Suz said, and handed her a bag of Johnny Beer bottle-cap–opener promotional giveaways.

Hayley took the bag and gingerly stepped out of the dressing room into the hall. Peeking around the corner into the main room of the bar, she took a shaky breath.

“It's going to be fine. You'll love it,” Suz whispered.

“Suz, what exactly am I supposed to do? Do I just hand these out?”

“Just pass out the swag,” she said, pointing to the sack of bottle-cap openers. “You pass out the swag and party with the customers. Encourage them to drink Johnny Beer. That's all you need to do. Other than that, just have a good time.”

“That seems doable.”

“Oh, and if a customer wants to buy you a beer, no problem—as long as it's Johnny Beer you're drinking.”

Hayley nodded, then expanded her stride and took a few experimental steps into the room. She felt like she was waddling, but she had to believe Suz wouldn't go so far as to make her waddle amongst strangers. It must look better than it felt.

She also had the urge to keep adjusting her chest. This was what it must feel like to have to keep moving your jock around to get it comfortable. Okay, well, that was an interesting takeaway.

And then suddenly, as she moved away from the door into the center of the room, it was as if a giant spotlight turned on her. People started cheering and waving their arms. “Over here!”

Over there? Me or Suz?
She looked back at Suz, but her friend just stood back in the shadows of the door frame with her arms crossed, smiling.

Hayley turned her attention back to the loudest table, filled with guys who seemed tremendously happy to see her. It was a normal batch of guys. Some were quite disgusting, from a purely aesthetic perspective. Some were wildly attractive. Most, of course, just looked kind of nice. Acceptable.

Regardless of what they looked like, Hayley normally wouldn't have approached any of them. Certainly not the wildly attractive ones. Normally she would sit with her friends at a table, waiting for one of them to come up to her, hoping that it wasn't one of the really disgusting ones.

Or if her friends weren't around, for whatever reason, she'd be circling the room. Compulsively circling. Her fear of being mistaken for a wallflower was so great that she would traverse the confines of the party over and over, desperately hoping to see an acquaintance, at least, with whom to exchange fresh small talk.