Killer Blonde Read Online Free PDF

give Minnie one of my “Dutch aunt” talks without going into details. I couldn’t tell her I’d been snooping around Bobby’s desk.
    â€œYou can’t trust that woman,” I told her. “Did you ask her if you’re the only person working on that project? Did she give you any in-house numbers? If she hasn’t, Vicki is setting you up for a fall.”
    â€œNo, Margery, you’re wrong. Vicki wouldn’t do that. This is my big chance,” Minnie said.
    She was hopelessly trusting. I’d failed again.
    Meanwhile, Vicki invited Minnie for little salad lunches at Renee’s Tea Cozy. She even took her shoe shopping, the ultimate female bonding ritual. Minnie bought brown lace-ups that would be too old for me now, and I’m seventy-six. Vicki bought herself frivolous pink heels.
    After three weeks of nonstop work, Minnie put her finished project in a serious black binder and came shyly up to my desk.
    â€œMargery,” she said, “would you read this for me?”
    I read it and declared it was the best thing Minnie had ever done. I meant it. Minnie was overjoyed. But I had an ominous feeling things were going to go very wrong, very soon.
    I hung around Vicki’s office and saw Minnie proudly hand in her work. Vicki was all pretty blonde hair, pink ruffles, and pleasant smiles. She paged through the proposal, while Minnie sat there looking touchingly hopeful.
    It took Vicki less than a minute to crush her. “I’m sorry, Minnie,” she said dismissively. “It’s not what I had in mind. I wanted to give you a chance, but you’re not quite good enough. Bobby’s proposal is much better.”
    Minnie looked as if she’d been slammed with a cinder block. She wobbled out of Vicki’s office like a punch-drunk prizefighter. I was sure there would be another crying jag in the women’s bathroom.
    But I was wrong. This time Minnie didn’t creep off to cry. I never saw her cry again. It was as if she’d wept away all her tears. Now she was dry and hard.
    Minnie straightened her shoulders, held her head high, and walked right out the office door.
    Good, I thought. If that young woman has any sense, she’ll keep on walking.

Chapter 5
    I heard what happened next thanks to Mr. Rick, my hairstylist. He had the most fashionable salon on Las Olas—the Cut Direct.
    Mr. Rick believed that he looked like Paul McCartney, so he dressed like the cute Beatle. The hairstylist wore a florid mustache and a coat festooned with braid and epaulettes like Paul on the
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
album.
    Alas, Mr. Rick resembled the rogue-nosed Ringo more than Paul, especially in profile. Still, I appreciated his sartorial courage. Except for this one delusion, Mr. Rick’s fashion judgment was flawless.
    Speaking of courage, Minnie walked into Mr. Rick’s salon without an appointment and said, “I’m sick of me. Make me someone else.”
    Only a desperate woman said that to a hairstylist. It was an act of bravado, a fashion free fall. It was doubly brave in a salon painted with showers of psychedelic stars and rainbows. It took still more courage to say it to a stylist dressed like a Gilbert and Sullivan pirate.
    Maybe my lectures about standing up for herself had finally worked. Maybe Minnie had had enough. For whatever reason, she was ready to be a new woman.
    Mr. Rick sat Minnie in a red chair and tied a pink plastic cape under her chin. She looked better already with some color near her face.
    To the customers in the Cut Direct, Minnie seemed hopeless. But Mr. Rick walked around the red chair, studying her.
    He examined her hair closely. It was the color of cold gravy and styled to emphasize her large ears. He considered her sharp nose and pointed chin. He noted her frumpy ankle-length brown jumper and big fat purse. Her flat shoes were styleless canoes.
    But he also saw that her hazel eyes were large and