Hissy Fit by Mary Kay Andrews

Author:Mary Kay Andrews
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780061746826
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2004-03-01T23:00:00+00:00

“You look darling,” Stephanie said, averting her eyes from my bare feet. “Sort of…pastoral.”

I darted into the bathroom. The mirror confirmed what I already knew. My hair was sweat-soaked and totally out of control. And I was really, really dirty. Without giving it too much thought, I locked the bathroom door. I peeled off my clothes and hopped into Will’s shower. The hot water felt great. I’d already soaked my hair by the time I looked around and discovered the only shampoo in the bathroom was something in a black squeeze tube called Grunge.

It smelled like pine cones. I didn’t care. Any shampoo was better than none. I lathered up and quickly rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. Within five minutes I was out of the shower and toweling off. I congratulated myself on spending Will’s money on expensive thick white Egyptian cotton towels. I gathered my damp hair into a tight ponytail, then, remembering Stephanie’s chic chignon, I twisted the ends around and tucked them back into themselves, sort of a poor man’s French twist.

A damp washcloth took care of the worst dust smears on my tank top, but there was no fixing the ripped seams of my skirt. I dressed quickly, hesitating, but then making the command decision to go without the disputed Bali bra. But where to put it? My skirt had no pockets, and my purse was still in the front seat of the Volvo. In the end I swallowed hard, mummified the bra in toilet tissue, and hid it in the bottom of the bathroom waste basket. Thirty dollars, right in the trash, I thought. I consoled myself with the idea of slipping back in here, later, with my pocketbook, and retrieving it.

It felt odd, walking around a strange man’s house, with nothing between me and the silk of my blouse, but at least the damn straps weren’t slipping off my shoulder. And the underwire wasn’t cutting into my rib cage. As I joined Stephanie and Will out on the patio, where cocktail hour was apparently well under way, I wished I had another bra to put on. I wished I had some lipstick, maybe a little eyeliner. And shoes. It was hard to feel like a professional interior designer in bare feet.

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