There were no clients in the office, so she made the dreaded announcement. “It’s that day of the week, everybody. Chop, chop. Let’s get the agony over with.”

SuSu Kaplan groaned. “I’m getting my period.”

“You were getting your period last week,” Portia replied. “No excuses.” Only her controller and the computer guru who ran the Power Matches Web site were exempt from this weekly ritual, since they didn’t deal directly with clients. Besides, they were men, and didn’t that just say it all?

Portia walked toward her private office. “You, too, Inez.”

“I’m the receptionist,” Inez protested. “I don’t have to be in the clubs at night.”

Portia ignored her. They all wanted the prestige of working for Power Matches, but nobody wanted the hard work and the discipline that went along with it. Discipline turns the dream into reality. How many times had she said those words to the women she mentored at the Community Small Business Initiative? And how many times had they chosen to ignore her?

Kiki Ono had a chipper smile on her face, and Briana didn’t seem too worried, but if SuSu Kaplan kept frowning that way she’d need Botox before she hit thirty. Inside Portia’s office, half a dozen curry-colored ceramic pieces provided the only decorative accessories in a space dominated by glass, straight lines, and hard surfaces. Her personal preferences ran toward softer, more feminine interiors, but she believed a woman’s office should project authority. Men could surround themselves with all the bowling trophies and family photos they wanted, but female executives didn’t have that luxury.

As she made her way into her private bathroom, she heard the rustle of shoes and jackets being removed, the chink of discarded belts and bracelets. She slid the glass-and-chrome precision scale from beneath the pedestal sink with the pointed toe of her lavender Christian Louboutins, then picked it up and carried it out to the black marble office floor. By the time she extracted the chart she needed from her desk, SuSu had stripped down to a navy bra and panty set.

“Who’s brave enough to go first?”

“I will.” Briana Olsen, a willowy Scandinavian beauty, mounted the scale.

“One hundred and twenty.” Portia noted the weight on her chart. “You’ve picked up a pound since last month, but with your height, that’s not a problem. Your manicure, though…” She gestured toward the chipped mocha polish on Briana’s index finger. “Honestly, Briana, how many times do I have to tell you? Appearances are everything. Get it fixed. Inez, you’re next.”

Inez’s extra pounds were a foregone conclusion, but she had fabulous skin, a marvelous touch with makeup, and a way of putting clients at ease. Besides, the reception desk was high enough to cover the worst of her chub. “If you ever want to get another husband…”

“I know, I know,” Inez said. “One of these days I’ll get serious.”

Kiki, always a team player, took the heat off her. “My turn,” she chirped. Flipping her silky black hair over one shoulder, she stepped on the scale.