“Jeez,” I yelled at her. “I’m sorry!”

“Go!” Mary Lou shouted at me from junior wear. “Catch that sonnovabitch!”

I reeled off the old lady and barreled into two other women. One of the women was Joyce Barnhardt in her makeover smock. We all went down in a heap on the floor, grunting and thrashing.

Mary Lou and the shoe clerk waded in to separate us, and somehow in the confusion of the moment, Mary Lou gave Joyce a good hard kick in the back of her knee. Joyce rolled away, howling in pain, and the shoe clerk quickly hoisted me to my feet.

I looked for Kenny, but he was long gone.

“Holy crap,” Mary Lou said. “Was that Kenny Mancuso?”

I nodded my head yes while I struggled for air.

“What’d he say to you?”

“Asked me for a date. Said he liked the shoes.”

Mary Lou snorted.

The shoe clerk was smiling. “You’d have caught him if you’d been trying on sneakers.”

In all honesty I wasn’t sure what I would have done if I’d caught him. He had a knife, and all I had were sexy shoes.

“I’m calling my lawyer,” Joyce said, pulling herself up. “You attacked me! I’m going to sue the shit out of you.”

“It was an accident,” I told her. “I was chasing after Kenny, and you got in my way.”

“This is the cosmetics department,” Joyce shouted. “You can’t just go around being a lunatic, chasing people through the cosmetics department.”

“I was not being a lunatic. I was doing my job.”

“Of course you were being a lunatic,” Joyce said. “You’re a dented can. You and your grandmother are screwy tunes.”

“Well, at least I’m not a slut.”

Joyce’s eyes got as big as golf balls. “Who are you calling a slut?”

“You.” I leaned forward in my purple pumps. “I’m calling you a slut.”

“If I’m a slut, then you’re a tramp.”

“You’re a liar and a sneak.”

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“So what do you think?” Mary Lou said to me. “Are you going to get these shoes, or what?”

By the time I got home I wasn’t so sure I’d done the right thing with the shoes. I shifted the box under my arm while I unlocked my door. True, they were gorgeous shoes, but they were purple. What was I going to do with purple shoes? I’d have to buy a purple dress. And what about makeup? A person couldn’t wear just any old makeup with a purple dress. I’d have to buy new lipstick and eye liner.

I flipped the light switch and closed the door behind me. I dumped my pocketbook and new shoes on the kitchen counter and jumped back with a yelp when the phone rang. Too much excitement for one day, I told myself. I was on overload.

“How about now?” the caller said. “Are you scared now? Have I got you thinking?”

My heart missed a beat. “Kenny?”

“Did you get my message?”