A High Heels Haunting (2 page)

Danielle froze.  Then cocked her curls to the side again, picking at that errant strand.  “You?”

I should have been offended by the shocked tone in her voice, but, honestly, I couldn’t blame her.  It wasn’t that Danielle hadn’t ever invited me out.  She had.  In fact, when I first started working here last year, she’d always included me in her Friday night plans.  I’d just always declined.  I don’t know why.  Somehow an evening with Tabby always seemed… safer.  I guess I just never saw myself as the partying-until-dawn type.

I stole a glance at the box by my feet.

But
she
was.

“Yes.  Me.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Danielle said.  “Yeah, if you want to come, that would be great.”  She perked up and almost looked like she meant it.  “We’re meeting at my place at seven.  You need directions?”

I nodded
, t
oo shocked by my own behavior to say anything.

Danielle plucked a bright pink
P
ost-
I
t from the pad on my desk and proceeded to write down her address.

I’d wear them just once, I promised myself.  Then I’d return them. 

Just once. 

*   *   *

I stared at my reflection in the mirror.  Wondering if, in fact, it was
my
reflection. Same ash blonde hair, a little too long to be stylish, a little too short to be sexy. Same stick straight frame, legs too long, arms too thin, chest way too flat.  But that was where the Kya I knew ended.

I’d put the heels on as soon as I’d gotten home.  And somehow, they’d spurred me to rummage through my closet until I’d hit the back, pulling out all the things I never wore.  Because tonight I didn’t want to be me.  I wanted to be
her
.

I found a black skirt that ended just below my knee.  Plain, stretchy material, but it hugged my hips in a way that almost made curves.  I found a white blouse with ruffles down the front that my mother had bought me for Christmas.  I’d never worn it.  Too frilly, too clingy, too… noticeable.  I slipped it on and buttoned it up the front.  Then undid the top two buttons.  Then the third.  My black bra showed through beneath, but for some reason, I didn’t mind.

Once I’d dressed, I dug out the only make-up I owned, a tube of black mascara left over from my cousin’s wedding, black eyeliner I’d used to draw a mustache on myself last Halloween when I’d gone to the office party as a pirate, and a tube of red lipstick I’d gotten free with a bottle of shampoo.  Unfortunately I had no idea what to do with any of it.  I did a quick
G
oogle
search
on applying make-up and came up with enough not to poke myself in the eye while applying the stuff.  The effect wasn’t the totally polished look Danielle achieved each day, but it wasn’t bad.  In fact, the red lipstick was pretty nice.  It made my lips look more plump, full.  Almost… sexy.          

“What do you think, Tabby?”

My cat stared at me and meowed.  No doubt asking where his Fancy Feast was.  A whole lot of help he was.

I studied my reflection.  The look was almost there.  But it didn’t quite do the heels justice. 

I leaned down and fingered the hem of my skirt. 
She
wouldn’t wear something this long.  Before I could stop myself, I felt my fingers taking hold of the hem, grabbing tight on either side of the seam, and ripping until a slit ran up the length of my thigh, ending a good six inches above my knee.

I should have been mortified.  I should have been embarrassed beyond belief to go out in public in something this revealing.

Instead, for some reason, my reflection just smirked back at me. 

*   *   *

Club Ecstasy in San Francisco was packed by the time we got there.  Not that I knew a packed club from
a non-packed one. 
I’d honestly never been out to a real nightclub before.  I’d seen them.  On TV.  But never actually set foot in a real one.  It was a lot warmer than I’d thought.  Wall to wall bodies, all packed up against each other like refugees on CNN.  All sweating, gyrating, moving en mass like some giant orgy.  I admit, I wasn’t totally getting the appeal. 

“Isn’t this place fab?” Maxine yelled over the sounds of the techno music puls
ing
through hidden speakers.

I nodded.  Liar.

“Here we go, three cosmos,” Danielle shouted, returning from the bar with three wide-brimmed glasses of pink stuff.  She handed one to Maxi
n
e, then
the other to
me. 

“Oh, no, I don’t…” I paused.  Maybe
I
didn’t drink.  But
she
would.  “Uh, thanks,” I said instead.  I took the glass and sipped gingerly from the side.  Then coughed.  It was sweet yet like drinking liquid fire all at the same time.  I forced myself to take another sip.  This one went down a little smoother. 

A
very
little.

“You okay, Kya?” Danielle asked.

“Yeah.”  I covered my mouth with my hand, coughing again.  “Dandy.  Just fine.”

“Cool.  Then let’s go dance!” Danielle yelled over her shoulder, not waiting for an answer before threading her way through the mob. 

Maxi
n
e followed, bobbing her head in time to the eardrum-busting beat. 

I was left with no choice but to do the same, holding my glass above my head to keep from spilling on the strangers that kept rubbing up against me. 

The club was separated into different levels – the main floor where the bar sat and a loft section up a pair of spiraling, chrome stair
cases
.  We were on the main floor where strobing lights and pink and green lasers cut through the air, overloading my senses.  A DJ sat in the center of the room on an elevated platform, suspended just above the dancing crowd.  Flanking him were four more elevated platforms where scantily clad women danced go-go style, moving their hips in a way I’d only seen on late night Showtime specials.  I couldn’t help staring as I followed Maxi
n
e and Danielle.

“You guys do this every Friday?” I asked, in awe.

Only I got no response.  I turned
from the dancers
.  I’d been so engrossed in watching the go-go girls I’d totally lost my friends. 

Oh.  Shit.

“Danielle?” I called out.  But my voice was lost in the sea of noise.  I whipped my head around, suddenly feeling like a little kid lost at the mall. 

Okay, stay calm.  I was a grown woman.  I was fine.  I could handle this.  I looked at the pink drink in my hand.  Then downed
half of
the liquid courage in one horrifying sip.

“Hey, darling, you wanna dance?”

I lowered my glass to find a forty-ish
guy with salt-and-pepper hair
, wearing a black shirt and chinos
,
gyrating in front of me.

I bit my lip.  And shook my head violently from side to side.  Oh, bad idea.  The cosmo shot straight to my brain, making the room sway.

“Come on, sugar, with legs like those, I’d bet you’re a natural.”  The guy turned and did some sort of weird hand signal to the crowd behind him.

“No, actually, I’m just looking for my friends.  They-”

But before I could finish, the crowd had responded to Chino Man’s prompting
,
and I felt my feet lifting off the ground. 

Holy hell!

“No, really, I’m just…  please, I’m only… I don’t think I can…”

Yeah, like anyone was listening.  My protests were completely swallowed up by the DJ, spinning a new song with a lot of bass and wailing lyrics, as a dozen hands shoved me up onto a raised platform.  Once they let go it took me a minute to get my balance.  Especially with the cosmos still whirring through my system.  I stood up on shaky legs.

“But I don’t even know how to dance!” I shouted, scanning the crowd for any glimpse of Danielle’s curly h
air
. 

What I saw instead was a sea of expectant faces.  Raising their fists.  Cheering me on. 

Me? 

Panic rose like bile in my throat.  Shit.  What did I do?

I looked down.  My red stilettos shone against the flashing strobes and lasers, the patent leather reflecting the pulses of light like shiny, red mirrors.  I focused on them.  Beautiful shoes.  Daring. 

Sexy.

I looked out at the crowd again.  Maybe I didn’t know how to dance.  But I bet
she
did.

I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm of the bass beat fill me.  I lifted one arm up over my head.  Then the other.  My head start to bob in time with the music, my hips swaying.  The crowd’s roar turned up a notch.  I was keenly aware of the cool leather hugging my feet as I took one step to the right, then one to the left, the shoes guiding me, telling me how she’d dance. 

And then I was moving.  Dancing.  Swinging legs beneath my ripped skirt, the revealing slits riding up my thigh
.  I s
himm
ied
my flat chest at the crowd like I was some stacked Playmate, moving my hips like I belonged on MTV. 

In hindsight, it was probably the strong cosmo on an empty stomach.  But right then, I blamed the shoes.       

“Wooo, baaaaaby,” I yelled out, ripping off my ruffled blouse and dancing on the platform in my black, lacy bra.  And the crowd loved it.  In fact, I think Chino Man even whistled at me.  I whistled right back.

I have no idea how long I was up there.  It felt like only seconds, yet an eternity, before Danielle and Maxine appeared in front of me, their arms outstretched to help me down.  Reluctantly I went, clearing the platform for a woman in strategically placed spandex and thigh-high boots to take my place.

“That was awesome,” I panted, as Danielle steered me away from the action.

“Ohmigod, what were you doing up there?” she asked, laughing.  Clearly this was not the woman she was used to seeing in the next cubicle. 

“Dancing,” I managed to get out.  I grabbed the drink in her hand and sipped eagerly.  “You guys have got to try that.”

Danielle threw her head back and giggled.  “Wow, Kya cuts loose.”

I shook my head.  “No, I’m not Kya tonight.  I’m her.”

“Who?” Maxi
n
e asked, scrunching her ski-jump nose.

“The
model
on the
Maddie Springer
website.  I’m the shoe lady.”  I pointed down at my feet.

Danielle and Maxi
n
e looked down, then at each other, clearly not getting it.  It didn’t matter.  All that mattered was that for tonight – just one night – I could leave boring old Kya’s life behind.

“Excuse me?”

I turned around, flipping my hair over one shoulder the way I envision She would, to find Chino Man standing behind me, his face spread into a grin that was all teeth.

I
would have stammered. 
She
didn’t.  “Hey there, cutie,” I flirted without missing a beat.  Okay, so he wasn’t her Mr. Orgasm by a long shot – too short, too eager, and somehow too overly polished.  But he wasn’t a bad start. 

“Hey, gorgeous.  You put on some show.”

I should have been mortified.  Instead, I laughed.  A deep throaty thing that I didn’t know I could do.

“Listen, doll,” he went on.  “My name is R.J. Alexander.”  He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to me.  “I’m a talent agent with Parker Models.”

I squinted down at the card.  Plain white with a little red logo in the corner that looked like a catwalk.

“Your performance out there was stunning.  Hot.  Sexy as hell.”

“Oh, that was nothing.  You should see me when I’m warmed up.”  Wow.  Did
I
say that?

“Ha!  I knew you’d be a natural.”  He beamed at me, flashing a grill that was white, straight, and seemed to cover his entire face. 

“Well, I always say when you got it, flaunt it.”  I sipped at my drink and gave him a wink.  Good God, where was I coming up with this bullshit?

But R.J. ate it up.  He laughed, slapping one knee with his hand.  “That’s the perfect motto for a model, honey.”

“Oh, I’m not a mod-”  I stopped myself.  I looked down at my feet.  Why the hell not?  “It is, isn’t it?” I finished instead.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“Kya-”  Again I faltered.  “Star.  Kya Star.” 

“Gorgeous.  Listen, Kya, honey, I’ve got a shoot coming up this weekend that I think you’d be perfect for.  Tell me you don’t have representation already?”

I shook my head. 

Again with the full bodied grin.  “Perfect!  Tell you what, swing by my office tomorrow
,
and I’ll give you the particulars.”  He didn’t give me a chance to respond, instead leaning in and air kissing me on both cheeks.  “A natural, doll!”  And then he disappeared, swallowed up by the mob.