Page 15 of Falling for Them
“You need to respect women,” I say.
“You’re old-fashioned,” he says with a laugh.
“It’s not old-fashioned to treat people well,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.Why can’t he see that his life will be so much fuller, so much happier, if he’s kind to others?It pisses me off.
The fact that he can lead on a beautiful woman like Ella, and not appreciate her, pisses me off.
But I’m old enough to know better than to lie to myself like this.
Because I’m not only angry about how he’s treating Ella.
I’m fucking jealous that he has her and I don’t, that’s what this is.
Ella
Thirteen days until the gala.I need a dress, shoes.
I have fifty dollars in emergency cash, and yeah, I’m going to do the stupid thing and spend it.
It’ll be worth it, to see Joel’s face when he picks me up and I walk out looking glamorous.
How weird is it that my boyfriend has never seen me dressed in anything other than my work uniform?Very weird.It’s why I wear lacy bras and panties to work every day, since I started dating him.If he’s going to lift up my dress, I want him to see something nice.Sure, the underwear is cheap and itchy, but I endure it because knowing that I’m sexy beneath my uniform is pretty much the only advantage I have.
Thirteen days until the gala, and two hours before my shift at the pub.I throw on a sweatshirt to help combat the chilly San Esteban January, then head downstairs.Time to go shopping.
Mrs.Dali, a woman who lives one floor down from me, is coming up the stairs as I come down, lugging a giant canvas bag of groceries.Her silver hair, streaked with white, is back in its usual bun.Her mouth is pinched in pain, probably from the arthritis in her hands.
“Let me help you with that,” I say, rushing down the steps between us.
“Oh, that would be lovely, dear Ella,” she says, her rich brown eyes peering at me through her massive glasses.
I take her grocery sack and turn around, carrying it up the few stairs to her hallway and down to her apartment door.Mentally, I’m wondering how much this will eat into my dress-shopping time, because Mrs.Dali loves to chat.
“You looked like you were on your way out,” she says as she unlocks her door, “so I won’t keep you, dear.”
“I am on my way out, but I can take these into your kitchen for you, no problem.”
She blinks up at me through her glasses and says, “Bless you, child.You are too kind to an old lady.This cold really makes my hands feel worse.”
I hardly think that common decency is being ‘too kind,’ but I don’t want to get into a debate with her, not right now when I need to hurry up and do my shopping.
“Where are you off to today?”she asks as I set the bag on her counter and pull out the items.The giant cans of vegetable broth will be too heavy for her to wrangle into her cupboards, so I quickly put them away.
“I’m going to a fancy event with my boyfriend,” I tell her proudly.“Today, I’m hoping to find a dress to wear.”
“Oh, you have a young man, that’s so delightful.I remember back when my late husband was courting me.”She sighs and pats my hand before I can reach for another item to put away.“I can take care of the groceries from here.You run along.”
“Are you sure?”
She practically shoves me out the door—she’s quite strong and spry, arthritis notwithstanding.
“Good luck on your adventures today,” she says.“May you find the perfect dress!”
“Thank you,” I say, rushing down the hall, my handbag banging against my leg with every hurried step.
Time is running out, and I’m not expecting this task to be easy.
The thrift store with my best chances is five blocks away, moving toward Dorado Heights.I don’t often come here because it’s an upscale place, with slightly more expensive clothing.But it might carry a gown suitable for the Tyler Gala.
