Privilege (Privilege 1)

"I don't know. I have to think about it. I've never been good at snap decisions."

Ariana pushed herself up off the cushy leather stool she had been sitting on for the past half hour. She knew that the girl didn't want to lose her sale. All that time she had spent making over Ariana would have been wasted if Ariana walked away with nothing. The desperation was evident in the girl's eyes as Ariana shouldered her backpack.

"Thanks for your time," Ariana said.

"Wait!" the girl hissed as Ariana turned to go. "I can give you a few free samples."

Ariana smiled to herself, but when she turned to face the girl, she was all interest.

"Really?"

Kelsi checked over her shoulder to make sure that none of her colleagues were listening in. They were all busy with other clients. Kelsi stepped out from behind the counter in her black smock. Ariana's eyes instantly flicked to her shoes. Black sling-back Michael Kors knockoffs. It figured.

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"If you're not so good at snap decisions, maybe you'd like to try a few of these things out on your own," the girl whispered. "Then, once you're convinced, you can come back and purchase whatever you like. Just ask for me."

Ariana pretended to be relieved. "That would be perfect."

"You promise you'll be back?" Kelsi asked.

"I promise," Ariana said solemnly.

"Then I know I'll see you again!" the girl said brightly. "You have a very honest face!"

As Ariana hid a smile, Kelsi walked back behind the counter and opened a small paper Neiman Marcus bag, into which she deposited the samples she had used for Ariana's makeover--a trial-size mascara, a tiny compact of powder, a pot of cream blush, and a small lip gloss. She handed the package over to Ariana like a spy passing off some secret documentation.

"I predict you'll be back before the end of the day," she said confidently.

"Thank you so much," Ariana gushed.

Then she turned and sauntered off toward the escalator with a triumphant grin. This was going to be even easier than she'd hoped.

68

SHOPPING SPREE

The dressing room was large and plush, with mirrors on three walls and classical violin music playing at an unobtrusive level through speakers overhead. Ariana kicked off her too-small hiking boots and pressed her callused, blistered feet into the thick, soft carpet. She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh. It had been almost two years since her feet had touched anything so soft.Of course, even the carpeting wasn't quite as exciting as the prospect of new clothes. With a giddy zeal, Ariana attacked the selection of items she had snagged from the impeccably organized racks out on the floor. First, the underwear. She used the cuticle scissors she'd purchased at the drugstore to cut a tiny hole around the sensor on a Calvin Klein bra and a pair of La Perla panties and pulled them on. Her whole body shivered in delight. So nice to be wearing undergarments that didn't smell like roast beef. Then she pulled on a pair of Rock & Republic jeans and checked her reflection from behind.

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There was her butt. She had forgotten what it looked like in the baggy denim she'd been wearing for the past year and a half. Topping off the jeans with a silky, light pink Marc Jacobs top, Ariana fastened the tiny pearl buttons, savoring the tickle of the luxurious, lightweight fabric against her skin. She lifted her blue eyes and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair might have been a new, unfamiliar color, but her eyes welled with happy tears nonetheless. She sat back on the velvet bench along the far wall, indulging her overwhelming emotions for just a moment.For the first time since she had busted out of the Brenda T., Ariana was starting to feel like herself again.

Fifteen minutes later, the sensors were gone from the jeans and top along with a wispy Thread dress, a few Three Dots tees, a pair of DKNY shorts, and a Chloe skirt. Ariana rolled the clothes up as tightly as she could, grateful that summer wear was so thin and manageable, and stuffed it all into her backpack along with a few more sets of underwear.

She quickly whipped out the Chanel lip gloss from the little Neiman's bag and reapplied. Then she slipped a leather Michael Kors clutch from under the pile of clothes on the bench, removed the sensor from that as well, and popped the lipstick inside. Admiring the purse in the mirror, Ariana sighed. She couldn't wait to finally ditch the bulky backpack and carry this sleek little bag instead. But for now, the backpack was serving its purpose.

Placing the tight hiking boots back onto her feet was like torture, but Ariana managed to get through it by daydreaming about her next

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stop--the shoe department. She opened the door to the dressing room and strode out with her chin held high, pausing to check out a colorful blouse some other shopper had left on the rack by the dressing room door.

If she just acted casual, no one would be the wiser.

On her way to the gleaming walkway between departments, Ariana's left foot twinged in pain, and she remembered that she wasn't done yet. If shoes made the woman, then she was still nothing but a grungy fugitive. She paused to check the store directory and was nearly knocked over by a pair of brassy ladies in huge flower prints carrying half a dozen bags each. The summer sales were on and the store was jam-packed with designer-hungry bargain-hunters. Normally not one for crowds, Ariana smiled as she realized her luck. The shoe department would be a madhouse.

Twenty minutes later, Ariana had gathered several pairs of sandals, sling-backs, boots, and flats and found one of the very few unoccupied seats in the center of the shoe department. All around her women jammed their feet into shoes from the sale racks, boxes and boxes piled up next to them. Ariana waited ten minutes, a totally unacceptable period of time, before one of the salesladies finally noticed her. She rushed over, all harried, with her curly hair floating out around her head like brown cotton candy, and heaved a sigh.