..............................................A few hours later in the suburb of Newtown, Mike's sister Angie walkeddown a dark quiet street towards the railway station, the sound of herhigh-heels clattered on the pavement and resonated down the desertedstreet. She was in a hurry to get the next train home. Angie has afourteen-year-old daughter, the result of a tempestuous but ultimatelydoomed affair, and she wanted to get home as soon as possible so thatthey could share dinner together and share their day.Angie is in her early forties, attractive but a little larger than shewould like to be. Angie works in an office with a strict dress code, no jeans or casualclothes; all employees are expected to wear "suitable business attire,"as stated in the company's code of conduct. It was only last year thatthey allowed women to wear pant-suits in winter for God's sake!Not that Angie minded; she preferred to wear a skirt and jacket, and shewas savvy enough to buy skirts, blouses and. Was Eden trusted in ways I wasn’t? I doubted it. Matt probably just didn’t have extras when we crossed paths.I was wearing the white skirt out of the store. I was walking in new shoes. No heels, Eden nixed that idea. You didn’t wear heels and serve. Good. I’d worn heels three times since Matt found me. I’d fallen over twice. My shirt was in the bag, with my bleach pitted sweatpants. I’d change out of my grungy t-shirt when it was time to go to work. I assumed I was going to spill something on myself in the interim.“Hey, who’s still wearing temporary bracelets?” Matt asked. We could’ve just left but he was looking at the elevators. That redhead in the jewelry store worked upstairs. The Indian girl wasn’t at the virgin kiosk and Matt was sour about that. I had her number. I didn’t volunteer it.“Uh, is anyone?” I wore a single silver braided chain. Eden had on a clipped closed gold loop.“Kelly,” Eden tapped her lip, “And, shit, Aimee?”“Who’s Aimee?” I asked in stereo with Matt.“The.
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