Did she just say “head Courtney”? There was a Courtney hierarchy?
“Courtney!” my guide exclaimed. Several women throughout the room turned to us, realized we were referring to someone else, and went back to their wine. Courtney Herndon gave me an appraising look and a thin smile.
“This is Jane. She runs a bookstore where the porn shop used to be!” Courtney Barrow squealed. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Super,” Courtney Herndon said, though her voice gave the distinct impression that she couldn’t give a rat’s ass.
“Are you from the Hollow originally, or are you a transplant like us?” Courtney Barrow asked.
“I’m a native,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘transplant’?”
“Oh, well, we all married boys from the Hollow.” Courtney Herndon snorted derisively, as though she did not appreciate being uprooted.
Courtney Barrow smiled fondly, ignoring Courtney Herndon, as she said, “My husband, Gary, told me he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, so I just followed him home. Same with all of the Courtneys. None of us really has to work, but we’re self-starters. Except for Lisa over there.” Courtney lowered her voice and nodded toward a strawberry blonde in a suit even more conservative than mine. “She runs her family’s accounting firm.”
“Well, that explains why I’ve never met most of you.” I turned to Courtney Herndon. “Courtney, what do you do?”
Courtney Herndon stroked back a stray blond curl. “I do home demonstrations for women interested in cosmetic products. I do home parties, makeovers, special kits.”
I nodded. “So, it’s like Mary Kay?”
Courtney H’s jaw twitched as she hissed out, “No, it’s nothing like Mary Kay !” She turned on her ice-pick heels and stomped toward the wine table.
“All right, then.”
“Mary Kay asked Courtney H to resign because her sales tactics were too aggressive,” Courtney Barrow whispered, a conspiratorial grin tilting her lips. “She would point out a flaw and then recommend a product to fix it. Only, Courtney can be really, really … honest sometimes. And some customers complained. So, Courtney sent the customers letters to tell them why they were wrong … and then Mary Kay’s corporate offices filed the restraining order.”
I stifled a laugh. “Who’s she working for now?”
“She says she’s an independent contractor.”
“So she’s mixing up her own makeup in her basement? Given the restraining order, that can’t be—”
Courtney Barrow lowered her voice even more. Even with vampire hearing, I’m sort of surprised I could hear her. “She’s still selling the Mary Kay stuff. She had loads of it when she quit. You know, your upline always tells you that you can’t sell from an empty wagon? Well, she took it seriously. She has enough lip plumper to sink a cruise ship. She just takes off all the packaging and replaces it with her own stickers she prints at home.”
“That is both brilliant and deranged,” I whispered back. Courtney Barrow giggled again, which was becoming less annoying.
She nodded to a tense blonde in the corner, who seemed to be scanning the room over and over, searching for some sort of infraction. “That’s Courtney Ahern, the one who’s crazy about the carpet. This house used to belong to one of her in-laws, but she persuaded her husband to give the tenants the boot and renovate the place for our headquarters. But now she’s paranoid one of us will do something to ruin the house’s potential resale value.”
“What does Courtney A do?” I asked. “Sell something that’s nothing like Amway?”
Courtney Barrow guffawed. “I’m going to like you!”
“Oh … good.”
Courtney Herndon stood, cleared her throat, and silenced the room. The various Courtneys filed into the meeting room, where we were directed to cozy tea chairs instead of the usual folding monstrosities. I sat through the approval of the minutes, the agenda, and the pledge. I came up with my own identification system for the Courtneys as they debated the proper color scheme for the annual business directory. Courtney Barrow, the only one who’d bothered to be friendly, was “Nice Courtney.” Courtney Herndon was “Head Courtney.” Courtney Gordon, who appeared to be some sort of sycophant/enforcer, was “Toady Courtney.” Courtney Ahern was “Coaster Courtney.” I couldn’t come up with a better-fitting nickname for Cankles Courtney and felt a little bad about it. I moved on to picking which chamber member I would eat first if we were stuck on a desert island. I settled on Courtney Jensen, or “Fitness Courtney,” because it was obvious that woman hadn’t even seen a carb in years, and high-protein diets give blood a rich, oaky finish. I’d almost nodded off when I heard my name being called.
“What?” I almost shouted, bolting upright in my fancy laced chair.
“It is Jane, right?” Head Courtney demanded. “You’re the new member?”
“Er …”
Head Courtney’s smile tightened as the other ladies tittered. “We were just discussing the Fall Festival charity for the animal shelter.”
This was so much worse than being caught sleeping in math class. I nodded and slapped on my “pleasant face.” On my right, Nice Courtney sat frozen in her chair, a Stepford smile pasted on.
“Now, Jane, I think it would be a great idea if you gathered together the prizes for the games? Normally, we solicit donated items from businesses in the community. And since you’re new, you probably have all kinds of contacts that we haven’t even thought of yet!”