Page 37 of The Yes Factor

“Really, I’m not.” I gesture to Bex, who’s at the counter, in deep discussion with the woman who’s holding up the purse and inspecting the stitching.

“Oh, now that is a Chanel. Where did you get that? They didn’t even distribute that model in the US. My name’s Sharlene.” She extends a multi-ringed hand, clearly thinking I’m a big spender she needs to woo.

“Nice to meet you, Sharlene.” I turn back to the bargain box.

“Now why is a woman with a purse like that so sad?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Hey.” Bex comes up behind me, looking over my shoulder into the bargain box at a sweater I’m thumbing like a rosary. Thank God she’s back, Sharlene is getting a little too intense. “Do you want that sweater? Because we could buy it even if it’s not in the bargain box.” Bex gives a triumphant smile and discreetly flashes a handful of bills.

“Whoever buys that purse is going to be one happy person. But I don’t know why on earth you’d ever want to sell it. It is class,” Sharlene says.

“That purse was bought as an attempted peace offering by her philandering husband.” Bex comes to my defense, seeing that Sharlene is being a bit too pushy.

“Oh my goodness, oh honey, that’s why you couldn’t channel that yacht energy I was trying to give you. I could see that you weren’t receptive to it. That you’re lost at sea instead of feeling the femme fatale power of the sexy Siren that you are.” Sharlene has suddenly turned as sympathetic as Mother Teresa, and as dramatic as Shirley MacLaine. What is it with this town and “energy”?

“We’re fine.” Bex turns to Sharlene. “We’re just on our way out.”

“Ladies, ladies. I’ve seen this before and I want to help. I won’t take no for an answer. It’s on the house.” Sharlene leans in conspiratorially. “And knowing Victoria at the counter and how tough she can be with pricing, you ladies are probably due a little something extra anyway.”

Sharlene drags Bex and me over to the evening gown section. “Now I know it looks a little over the top, but trust me, this will bring out your inner vixen.” Sharlene pulls out a slinky Bob Mackie dress with beaded fringe. Somehow, despite being covered in sequins, the dress is understated and glam. “It’s got a bit of stretch and hugs all the right places,” Sharlene says with a wink, and pushes the dress into my arms.

* * *

I reach out my arm and Bex passes me the bottle. We’re side by side on loungers underneath the leafy canopy of her backyard. If I reach up, I could almost pluck an avocado from the tree. I slowly fill our wineglasses with the crisp dry white from a vineyard somewhere near Santa Barbara.

“Twenty, Thirty, Forty, One, Two, Three, Four, Five. One thousand eight hundred and forty-five bucks.” Bex hands me the money.

“Is that the price of my marriage?” I take a sip of wine and stare upward into the clear sky, cradling the wineglass against my chest and ignoring the bills in Bex’s outstretched arm.

“Well, considering what Ethan makes, I’d say your marriage has a much higher price than that.”

“Take out eight hundred dollars for a shopping trip with Maddie. As long as she stops calling me Miss Liv. And the rest, well, what does that buy these days in Hollywood?” I turn with a weary smile to Bex.

“A hell of a lot of fun. We’re still going out tonight, aren’t we? Glamour & State, right? The place you read about in Conde Nast?” Bex is enthusiastic, and now she’s the one egging me on.

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach as I remember Jason aka Channing Tatum Look-alike and the date I’ve lined up for Bex. After Millionaire Mayhem and the drama at brunch, I’d completely forgotten about it.

“Um, yes.” I know I should just fess up and tell her about it but I chicken out. Maybe Jason will be a no-show? I’m too messed up from the emotional craziness of today to even think straight. “Sure, let’s do it, we’ve got spending money after all.”

Chapter Thirteen

Glamour & State

LIV

Glamour & State takes up a huge swathe of two blocks in what’s now the Hollywood that everyone comes to for vacation. At some point these formerly scuzzy blocks of urban decay turned into a Vegas style playland for adults.

“Where do all the strippers go now to buy their heels and fluorescent fishnets? And where did all the pawn shops go?” I turn around in confusion, looking up and down the block. “When I lived in LA, this was the last place I’d want to stop at a red light, let alone get out of the car.”

“Welcome to the new and improved city of dreams. Brought to you by commercial real estate developers.” Bex waves her arm like a girl unveiling a convertible at a car show.

She looks amazing. The Bob Mackie dress that Sharlene gave me had a hard time hugging my A-cup curves. I would have needed two padded bras to fill it out. I convinced Bex to try it on and it was meant to be. Her inner vixen was ready to roar.

A group of twenty-something guys hustles past us, and one of them turns around and gives Bex a whistle.

“It’s Wednesday night. Don’t these people have jobs? Or school?” I hadn’t expected Glamour & State to be so popular…or so young.

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