Mary Jane, Jessica Blau [diy ebook reader TXT] 📗

Jones waved her hand overthe pile of clothes in Sheba’s arms. “Are those for you to try on, Mary Jane? That’s a sexy little suit you got there.” Sheglanced at me, and then winked at Sheba.

“Here, doll,” Sheba said in her make-believe voice. She handed me the pile and nodded toward the fitting room. I walked insideand Sheba closed the door. “Lovely to see you, Ms. Jones. You take care now.” There were two footstools in the room; I droppedthe pile of clothes on one and started taking off my clothes.

“Should we have cocktails on the beach tonight?” Beanie Jones said from the other side of the door.

“Ah, malheureusement, my husband and I are leaving this afternoon. But give my regards to Mr. Jones.” Sheba cracked the fitting room door open.I knew she wanted an escape.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Jones, uh, Beanie.” I backed against the wall, as I was mostly undressed.

“Well, then maybe we can have a drink next time you’re in town?” Beanie Jones said to Sheba.

“Certainly. Bye now!” Sheba said, and then she wedged herself inside the fitting room and pulled the door shut behind herself.

“Bye bye!” Beanie Jones said.

I stood there in my underwear and bra. Sheba and I stared at each other in silence, waiting for Beanie Jones to leave. After a minute or so, Sheba cracked the door open again and peered out. Then she pulled it shut and sat on the empty footstool in the corner. “My god, that woman is haunting us,” she whispered. “Try on the suit first.”

“Okay.” I picked up the suit. Was I just going to take off my bra and be half nude in front of Sheba? If I turned my back,would it be rude? I took a deep breath, pretended nothing was unusual, unhooked my bra, and put on the bikini top. Then Ipulled the bottoms on over my underpants.

“Finally something that shows off your gorgeous figure.” Sheba made a paddle of her hand and flicked it, meaning I shouldturn in a circle. Which I did. “You have to get this suit.”

I looked at the price tag. It was equal to two weeks’ salary. I’d never spent my own money on clothes and couldn’t imaginestarting with something as expensive as the suit. “I think I should find something less expensive,” I said.

“No!” Sheba waved both hands up in the air. “Mary Jane! I’m rich. I’m buying you the suit and anything else you like. No arguing.”

“Okay.” I laughed with relief. Once I knew I could get the suit, I allowed myself to admit that I loved it. It felt weirdlypowerful to wear something so showy. Though I couldn’t quite imagine being brave enough to wear it in public.

“Now put this on.” Sheba handed me a beautiful yellow sundress. It was sunny. Happy. Something my mother would approve of.I slipped it on over the suit.

“Gorgeous. Next.” Sheba handed me a white terry-cloth romper that was similar to the red one I’d seen her in. I climbed into it through the neckline and then zipped up the front. It clung to me like Saran Wrap.

“Gorgeous again,” Sheba said.

We went on like this for a while. Between Sheba’s assessment of each outfit, she told the story of losing her virginity. Shewas fifteen and the boy was nineteen. He was the son of a “very famous” actor I’d never heard of. When Sheba’s mother foundout—she’d walked in on them in Sheba’s bedroom—she took a pair of scissors and cut up every article of cute clothing Shebaowned. “The only things she didn’t destroy,” Sheba said, “were my winter corduroy pants and my thick Fair Isle sweaters.”

“Wow,” I said. The clothes Sheba was buying me were the first ones I’d owned that I could imagine my mother destroying. “I’mworried my mother will take these clothes away from me if she sees them. I don’t think she’d cut them up, but . . .”

“Yeah. Wow.” Sheba sighed.

There was quiet for a moment as we both stared at me in a backless tie-dye dress. I was turned, looking over my shoulder atmy backside in the mirror. The dress was too long and baggy; it was definitely going in the reject pile.

“Can I ask you a question?” I whispered.

“Yeah?” Sheba whispered too.

I turned toward Sheba and then leaned in close to her ear so no one outside the dressing room could hear. “Why did Jimmy checkhis back to see if he made love to girls and why did he sniff his fingers?”

Sheba took a deep inhale. I thought she might be on the verge of laughing. It was like I was Izzy and she was me. Even thequestion sounded like something Izzy would ask.

“Because women scratch men’s backs when they make love to them. And I don’t think he really sniffed his fingers, but men make jokes about the smell of a woman’s vagina, so he was pretending that he sniffed them to see if they smelled of vagina.”

The words smelled of vagina clanked around in my head. I had wanted to ask her about posing for Playboy, too, but felt too stopped up by what I’d just heard. Did my vagina smell? If it had, I’d never noticed.

 

The car smelled like pizza. Or was it vagina? There were four of them in the station wagon.

“We saw that Beanie woman again,” Sheba told Mrs. Cone.

“Jesus Christ! I knew we’d bump into someone. Half of Baltimore summers in Dewey or Rehoboth.”

“Beanie Jones?” Izzy asked.

“The one and only,” I said.

“I heard the Joneses have a house here somewhere,” Mrs. Cone said. “Hopefully she’ll stay the rest of the summer while we’reback in Baltimore.”

“Did she give you cake?” Izzy asked. “She makes good cake!”

“No,” I said. “No cake this time.”

On my lap was a shopping bag full of clothes paid for by Sheba. I had been worrying about how I was going to get any of thempast my mother. Even the sandals Sheba bought me seemed sexy; they were made of black leather and had a woven ring that wentaround the big toe.

“No one