Little Beauties (eBook)

Chapter One: RULE #1: Shower after emptying the trash.

Once I was a professional princess. At age four, I was chosen, out of a very competitive field, to represent my preschool in the Palmetto Avenue Neighborhood Association Parade as Princess Moonglow. At seven, I was both Fairyland Angel and Sassy Star, while fulfilling all my elementary school duties and also my required household chores. I was twice crowned the Vegetable Princess, or at least the princess of a few green growing things, like cabbages. I was Miss Teen Broward County at the tender age of fourteen. At fifteen, I stood in a white cowboy hat in front of a car dealership, in wind that whipped the colorful pennants around and nearly tore the petals off the roses I was holding, and tried to pretend I wasn't wearing a bikini and five-inch heels in front of a bunch of grown men. I smiled. My mother, Gloria, ducked into the driver's seat of the red Mustang convertible I had just won for her, showing her legs as she did so, diverting some of the male attention her way. A salesman patted my ass as she was adjusting the bucket seat. That day I was Freddy's Ford Cowgirl. But then I threw in my sash.

Now I'm thirty-four, and I have just become Employee of the Month: August at Teddy's World. I guess I still have a thing for titles, in spite of my official retirement. I've made Employee of the Month in every job I've had. That's a lot of jobs. We're talking double digits here. Fourteen, to be exact. Start with your left thumb and go down to your pinkie, then your right thumb to right pinkie, back to your left thumb, forefinger, middle finger.

Stop at what is known as the ring finger.

Right now Gloria is trying to reach me on my cell phone. I'm not supposed to have my phone on while I'm at work, but someone might call me -- someone besides my mother -- and I want to be there if that someone needs to talk to me, if he needs to tell me that he misses me and wants to come home. So there the phone sits, vibrating crazily on the counter of Teddy's World, behind a pile of Poker Babies. Poker Babies is a book with photographs of babies who look like they are playing cards, with thought bubbles above their heads saying things like 'Deuces wild' and 'I'm calling your bluff.' It's stupid and precious, two qualities that have made it a steady seller in baby stores across the country. Here in Long Beach, it's doing really well.

My phone has stopped vibrating, Gloria's name has disappeared from the display. She'd probably be happy to see I've made Employee of the Month at Teddy's World. I have to admit it gives me a little charge when customers glance up at the color head shot Tim took earlier in the summer. This was before he took leave of our marriage, which immediately drove me into a high-end salon in Belmont Shore for a savage haircut by someone named Linda, who was not, despite her name, very pretty. Average looks, extreme poise, zero personality. And definitely no talent with the scissors. Linda's talents, whatever they were, were not on display. 'Can't you make it a bit less poofy on top?' I asked her, and she said, haughtily, 'Then it will have no shape at all,' and continued to hack away. When she was done, the hair I could once sit on lay all around me like a bunch of straw, and I wanted to lie down in it like a sick horse.

So all in all, considering recent events, I really needed to make Employee of the Month, a bright spot in a bleak stretch. Never mind that there are only two of us. A couple of weeks ago I suggested to Marlene, my boss, that having an Employee of the Month would make her look like a caring businesswoman, someone who appreciated her workers, so she said...