“You want me to walk in there wearing nothing but a bikini bottom?” I grabbed a soda too.
“Be realistic. They won’t be looking at your job experience. All they care about is whether you have a driver’s license and a nice pair of tits. You’re not going to get the job looking like a secretary from the ‘70s.” She flicked the pussy bow sewn to the front of my blouse. “You might as well buy a pair of oversized glasses and get a roller set.” She looked down at my shoes and sighed.
I shook my head. “The interview’s downtown. I have to walk four blocks to get there. I am not going to wear stilettos.”
Loren frowned. “Those are nun shoes, and don’t you dare say they’re not. We used to sell them at Shoe Warehouse. They loved those things.”
“Do nuns really wear these?”
“Yes, come on.” Loren led me through the hall into my bedroom.
“What are you doing?”
She threw my closet open and started digging through the clothes pile on the floor. “I’m finding you something decent to wear.”
“I’m not even going to get the job.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not hot enough for this.” I stood up to look in the mirror across from my bed. My hair was a stringy, dull blonde that hung over my curvy frame. “You think my butt is too small?” I turned to the side to inspect my ass. It did not look great in these baggy pants.
“Your butt is fine. It’s the outfit that sucks. But don’t worry. You look good.”
“Sexy delivery service good?”
“Yeah,” Loren said. She fished a pair of white heels out of my closet, looked them over, and threw them behind her.
“I’m not buying it.” I sat on the bed.
“These,” Loren said, holding up a pair of black heels that looked like they’d been designed to stab somebody.
“I’ll break my ankle the second I walk out the door.”
“Prove it.” She handed them to me.
“Really? You want me to wear these?”
“Yes, Mercedes. You need this job. It’s good money.”
I pulled off my sneakers and snatched the heels from her. “Fine,” I said, forcing my feet into the stilettos. When I stood up, my feet wobbled, and I almost fell on my face. “No,” I said, sitting back down. “Just no.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Loren said. “Don’t you have flats?”
I pulled a pair out from under a pile of shirts. They were simple and straightforward. “What do you think?”
Loren nodded. “Those will work.” She turned back to my closet and pulled a pair of denim short shorts off the top shelf. “And these.”
I frowned. “For a job interview?”
“Absolutely,” Loren said. “You’re highlighting your qualifying assets.” She handed me a tight white T-shirt with a daisy on the front.
“Should I splash water on it?” I asked.
Loren handed me a skin-colored bra. “It might help.”
“I don’t know about this,” I said.
“You need this job, Mercedes. That’s why you begged me to get you an interview.”