If the Shoe Fits
Some Girls Do It Book Eight
Photography by Lindee Robinson
Edited by Theresa Schultz
Created with Vellum
Helene
"I was on fire."
On the other end of the phone, Helene's sister chuckled. “It’s been a while since you went on a bender on a Saturday night. Where are you partying? Maybe we could meet up."
She didn't get it. To be fair, Helene hadn't exactly expressed herself clearly. "No, Cassie, I mean I was literally on fire. My hair's still singed."
Numb and in shock, she accepted the bottle of water a uniformed fireman handed her.
Helene had always been a sound sleeper. She used to joke fire alarms wouldn't be able to rouse her. Not so funny now. What had woken her up less than an hour ago had been the heat, and the stench of her fluffy slippers burning. Reacting in seconds, she'd grabbed her burning hot phone on her bedside table and rushed out, not even putting on clothes. Hence why she found herself without shoes, in tiny smurf shorts, braless under a tank top old enough to bear witness to her emo phase, in front of her burning building.
The phone was okay, and cooler now, so she’d called Cassie.
"What?!"
Knowing Cassie needed a little more to go on, Helene drank a sip of water, and tried again. "There was a fire in my apartment. I think Sarah started it—you know how bad she is at cooking in the middle of the night."
Every weekend, Sarah prepared burgers, fries, and bacon to soak up the ungodly amount of alcohol she drank. And every single time, they ended up charcoal black.
An actual building fire was a first, though.
"Oh my God, are you okay? Where are you? I'll come to you."
"In front of the house. An ambulance is taking a few of us to the hospital. Can you meet me there? I don't have anything on me, just my phone."
Helene hated that she had no choice but to ask her sister for help. At least Cassie wouldn't rub it in her face, like their parents would. They had a thing about reminding her that her life could be a lot better, a lot easier, if only she’d let them plan it for her.
Helene wasn't the brains of the family—that was Cassie. What she had was flawless skin, even in high school, perky boobs, a pretty mouth, and long eyelashes. Her mother had thrown her in front of suitable men since the end of college, and her father kept inviting his employees over, encouraging her to smile and "get to know them." Neither Cassie nor she had ever had interest in owning a building contracting company, so his idea of keeping the business in the family when he retired was to have her hook up with one of his top employees.
They meant well. They were worried about her because at thirty-one, she was still sharing a crappy apartment with a roommate and in the same tax bracket as she had been five years ago, when she'd first joined the cosmetic company where she worked. Bijoux Skin has given her a steady pay increase every year, but in all that time, she'd received no promotion, although she was working her ass off. The first couple of years, she hadn't minded at all. Everyone was supposed to do their time as a brand rep, put in the work in the street, before hoping to get out of the communal working space, right? By the third year, she was starting to get impatient. She worked harder, barely ever taking the time to hang out with her friends. She started to take additional responsibilities, like training newbies. This year, a girl she'd trained, who had been there for just six months, moved to brand manager. And Helene only got a pat on the back for outselling everyone in her team. She couldn't deny her parents had a point. Her chosen path wasn't getting her anywhere.
And now, the little she had was burning to ashes before her eyes.
"I'm on my way."
"Thanks, Cass."
She hung up and threw her head back, eyes closed.
"You okay, ma'am?" One of the paramedics asked. He was a kindly graying man who looked too old to be working at four in the morning.
She bobbed her head, although she didn't even feel close to okay. She'd lost her home. She had a bit of money in her savings that had been meant for a summer holiday trip—the European vacation she'd wanted all her life. She'd wanted to go for her thirtieth birthday, but she hadn't had enough money last year. Now, that money was going to go into a new house deposit, and she was probably never going to see the Eiffel Tower. She couldn't kid herself into thinking that she'd see any of her deposit from the landlord, especially if Sarah had indeed started the fire. She doubted her insurance was going to reimburse any of her things, either.
Maybe she should stay with her parents for a little while. Regroup, save some money on rent. They lived on Long Island—the commute into Manhattan was doable. The very thought made her want to shave her head and run down Fifth Avenue naked.
Might as well entirely embrace madness.
"We're going to get you to the hospital now. Can we contact anyone for you?"
"I already called." She waved her phone. "Hey, did everyone get out all right?"
He smiled at her, not unkindly. "Don't worry, everyone is accounted for, that we can tell."
"Have they said where the fire came from?" Helene tilted her chin toward the firemen, still at work with their fire hoses.
The paramedic shook his head in disbelief. "Someone left burgers in a pan on a gas stove and went to bed, by the looks of it. Can you believe that?"
Could she ever.
Helene mentally kissed thousands of bucks goodbye. It was definitely Sarah.
Time blurred as she rode the ambulance, and got rushed into the hospital.
She was pondering the mess that was her life, in the waiting area of the hospital, when Cassie burst in, annoyingly perfect even at this time of night.
Her twenty-seven-year old sister used to wear clothes that drowned her petite figure, and style a hair like a librarian—not the naughty kind either. Over the last four years, she'd utterly transformed, changing into a confident, entirely self-aware bombshell. Her sleek blonde bob and bright red lips made her look like she belonged on a magazine. And she'd been on several. She wore Louboutin pumps and a little black dress. Clearly, Helene had interrupted a party.
As soon as she spotted her, Cassie rushed over, walking with the panache of a catwalk model on her four-inch heels. "Oh my God, Helene, how are you doing? Have they seen you yet? Did you inhale loads of smoke? We need to get you something to drink. Water, coffee, hot chocolate?" Words rushed out of her mouth in a continuous flow, as they always did when Cassie was nervous.
Helene managed to crack a smile. "I'm fine, I think. Maybe in shock. They haven't seen me yet. I don't think they will for some time." The hospital's white-and-green waiting room was packed. "You should go back to your party, really. If you could leave me some cash for a cab, I can…"
She could what? Get to Long Island? She grimaced.
"Don't be an idiot, Helene." Cassie sat next to her. "I'll stay with you. You're sure you're fine? Don't you feel thirsty? Hungry?"
Helene shook her head. Numb was what she felt. And numb was good, given the fact that the alternative was full-blown panic. Cassie's next question got her attention. "Have you called Mom and Dad, yet?"