“Damn those little bitches,” I said to my reflection. I pulled my face back a few inches from my mirror, a much more flattering distance. Those twenty-year-old waifs were ruining it for all of us who weighed over ninety-five pounds. Somehow the new ideal in beauty had become fried fake hair and bad skin, atop a skeletal frame with plastic boobs. I guess the airbrushing helped those girls look some-what human on their magazine covers. But airbrushing couldn’t help any of them with the chronic halitosis from all the bingeing and purging. I’d heard about that dentist in New York who specialized in making new teeth for those bulimic girls who’d had a river of stomach acid eat away their tooth enamel. He had a secret door so his patients could slip in unseen, and he kept a reflexologist on staff to rub his patients’ feet while they were being worked on. Fifty grand for a set of perfect new chompers that would rarely eat solid food.

The phone rang. “It’s Dani,” I said, briskly picking up, hoping it was Dave finally calling me back.

“Hey . . .” It was my friend Lauren. “Why the busy voice?” she asked.

“I’ve just got a shitload of stuff to do after being gone all week.”

“Anything new with the guy?”

“When you say ‘the guy’ do you mean Dave?”

“Yes, I mean Dave, unless you’ve found a better guy yet,” she replied dryly.

Lauren didn’t like Dave. She always called him a “total dick,” after something he had said to her at a barbecue at our mutual friend Ina’s. Lauren had never fessed up about what he’d said, so I gave up trying to get them to like each other—I just tried to keep them seated far apart whenever we went out together.

“The two of us have both been so busy with work. There’s hardly been time to hang out. He said he’s got something special planned for us later; a surprise.”

“If he really wanted to do something nice for you, he would dig deep and finally come up with an engagement ring,” Lauren snarked.

“C’mon, get off the ring stuff. That will come. I’m not in any rush.”

“Yeah, right.”

“What’s with the attitude, girl? Are you having your period?”

“No, but it’s been practically two years now that you’ve been together. I just think he should get off his ass and marry you like a decent guy. He’s never going to meet anyone better than you.”

“True, true,” I admitted. “But right now, since I’m not even sure if I’m going to see him tonight, I don’t want to set myself up for a big

letdown. I can’t start counting on a diamond ring for lunch, ya know?”

“Okay, but if he does step up to the plate, call and let me know.”