“Shopping.”
“Fuckin' A,” Mary Lou said. “I'll meet you at Quaker Bridge at seven. Macy's shoes.”
Mary Lou was already deep into shoes when I showed up.
“What do you think of these shoes?” she asked, pirouetting in black ankle-high boots with stiletto heels.
Mary Lou is five foot three and built like a brick shithouse. She had a lot of hair, which happened to be red this week, and she favored huge hoop earrings and the wet look in lipstick. She'd been happily married for six years and had two kids. I liked her kids, but for right now I was content with a hamster. A person doesn't need a diaper pail with a hamster.
“They look familiar,” I said about the shoes. “I think Witch Hazel was wearing shoes like that when she found Little Lulu picking beebleberries in her front yard.”
“You don't like them?”
“Are these special occasion shoes?”
“New Year's Eve.”
“What, no sequins?”
“You should get shoes,” she said. “Something sexy.”
“I don't need shoes. I need a night scope. You think they sell night scopes someplace here?”
“Omigod,” Mary Lou said, holding up a pair of purple suede platform pumps. “Look at these shoes. These shoes were made for you.”
“I don't have the money. I'm between paychecks.”
“We could steal them.”
“I don't do that anymore.”
“Since when?”
“Since a long time. Anyway, I never stole anything big. There was just that once we took some gum from Sal's because we hated Sal.”
“What about the jacket from Salvation Army?”
“It was MY jacket!” When I was fourteen my mother gave my favorite denim jacket to Salvation Army, and Mary Lou and I retrieved it. I told my mother I'd bought it back, but really we'd shoplifted it.
“You should at least try them on,” Mary Lou said. She snagged a salesman. “We want these shoes in a size seven and a half.”
“I don't want new shoes,” I said. “I need too many other things. I need a new gun. Joyce Barnhardt has a bigger gun than me.”
“Ah-ha! Now we're getting somewhere.”
I sat down and unlaced my Doc Martens. “I saw her in Clara's today. It was all I could do to keep from choking her.”
“She did you a favor. Your ex-husband was a jerk.”
“She's evil.”
“She works here, you know. Cosmetics. I saw her doing a makeover when I came in. Had some old lady looking like Lily Munster.”
I took the shoes from the salesman and slid them on.
“Are they wonderful, or what?” Mary Lou said.
“They're pretty nice, but I can't shoot anyone with them.”