Jaine Austen 4 - Shoes to Die For Read Online Free PDF Page A

better get that job.

    “My God, you look gorgeous!”
    I was sitting across from my best friend, Kandi Tobolowsky, in Paco’s Tacos, our favorite Mexican restaurant. She’d been oohing and aahing over my new look from the moment I walked in the door. She couldn’t take her eyes off me. And she wasn’t the only one. I saw our waiter staring at me, too. Although I suspect he was staring at the glob of guacamole I’d spilled on my blouse.
    “You’ve got to give me Gunter’s number,” Kandi said. “Was he expensive?”
    “Very.”
    Unlike me, Kandi can afford to go to Gunter. Kandi’s a writer on Beanie & the Cockroach, a Saturday morning cartoon about a short-order cook named Beanie and his pet cockroach, Fred.
    Now you probably assume that people who write dialogue for a cockroach don’t get paid much. Well, you assume wrong. In the Life Isn’t Fair Department, they get paid obscene amounts of money. A trip to Gunter’s would barely make a dent in Kandi’s checkbook.
    Of course, Kandi didn’t really need Gunter. Not as much as I did. Kandi’s hair is enviably straight and glossy brown. The kind of fabulous hair you see models tossing in shampoo commercials.
    “It’s so exciting,” Kandi said, taking a dainty bite of her chip, “about your job interview tomorrow. Although I still can’t quite picture you writing about fashion. Whatever you do, don’t wear elastic-waist pants!”
    “No elastic-waist pants,” I promised.
    “And no T-shirts with silly sayings.”
    “Of course I won’t wear a T-shirt.”
    Frankly I was getting a little miffed at the way everybody seemed to assume I was a fashion dummy.
    “I know what to wear to an interview,” I said, with more than a little iciness in my voice.
    “What? What are you wearing?”
    “A suit.”
    “What kind of suit?”
    I must’ve been feeling guilty about my scheme to “borrow” the Prada suit, because I said brusquely, “It’s a perfectly nice suit. Now can we talk about something other than my clothes?”
    “Okay,” Kandi said. “What about your eyebrows? You think you might do a little tweezer action, or are you going to stick with the Andy Rooney look?”
    “Kandi!”
    “Oh, don’t get all pissy. I just thought your eyebrows could use a little shaping.”
    At which point our waiter showed up to take our dinner order.
    “More guacamole?” he asked, eyeing the stain on my blouse.
    “No, we don’t need any more guacamole,” Kandi piped up.
    We both ordered a sensible dinner of chicken tacos and salad, hold the rice and beans. Okay, so I didn’t hold the rice and beans. And I ordered a beef burrito instead of a taco. Which is why I happen to be so fond of those elastic-waist pants that send Kandi and Lance into cardiac arrest.
    “Guess what, honey?” Kandi said, when our waiter had gone. “I’ve discovered a fab new way to meet guys.”
    Kandi’s always trying to drag me, kicking and screaming, into the wonderful world of dating. She can’t seem to get it through her head that just the thought of a date makes me break out in a cold sweat. Kandi, on the other hand, has a black belt in dating. For some inexplicable reason, she finds the whole process fun.
    “Don’t you want me to tell you the fab way to meet guys?” she asked.
    “Not really.”
    “Speed dating!” she plowed ahead anyway. “You know, where you get to meet twenty guys in just one evening.”
    “Kandi, I’m not interested in meeting one guy, let alone twenty.”
    She shook her head and sighed.
    “Jaine, honey, just because you had one disastrous marriage, that’s no reason to hole yourself up with a passive-aggressive cat for the rest of your life.”
    “Prozac is not passive-aggressive,” I huffed. “She’s just a little bossy, that’s all.”
    “One of the producers at Beanie tried speed dating,” Kandi said, unswayed from her mission. “She met three guys! All really nice.”
    “Sorry, Kandi. I’m not interested.”
    “But I already signed