GODDESSES INC

18

"Nothing." Mnem set the five-inch Jimmy Choo spike heel on the display table. She flicked the heel. No wobble. Excellent. It was the wobble trick. If a high-heeled shoe wobbled off your foot, it would certainly be wobbly to walk in. A week ago, Mnem would have slapped her credit card on the counter. No price check required.

"Not a single job?" Inna grimaced at the shoe's price.

Mnem tucked the studded yellow suede heels back in the box. "Nothing I want."

Naret and Axie, each with a stack of shoe boxes before them, voiced a collective commiserating sigh.

Inna considered the designer pumps on her feet. Were they a legitimate social media director expense? They ought to be. "Why don't you go back to Greece and take your olive oil business international?"

"Live in a tiny Greek village? Far from all this?" Mnem stacked the shoebox on top of the other four, then turned to Axie. "How's your new job with Professor Sexy?"

Axie slid into a pair of silver Valentino's. "I enjoy the reading and researching but making lists and spreadsheets is mind-numbing. Professor Azam scheduled a meeting with a friend of a friend of a friend in a remote village. I'm looking forward to that."

"Why?" asked Mnem.

"The man is an elder with extensive knowledge of local myths. Or so he claims." She took the shoes for a test stroll. "The professor wants my opinion."

The salesclerk, an older woman with thick legs and granny glasses dangling on a chain around her neck, poked her head around the towering stack of shoeboxes she carried. "You ladies have excellent taste. I brought a few more." She set them down. "Size five, right?" She passed a box to Naret.

"Call me bigfoot." Mnem grabbed the box of size ten Fendi's.

Axie sat down. "What's the point of this?"

"Of what?" asked Inna.

"Of trying on shoes we can no longer afford."

"Because," Mnem glanced at Inna, "I'm not giving up. Because maybe I can't afford them today or this year but I—all of us—haven't lived a millennium without learning how to do something worth a decent paycheck."

"That's right." Inna unzipped her Chanel bag. "We're only getting started. We're going places." She pulled out an Eze Gear tie, unrolled it, and draped it over the strappy designer stilettos. "I'm Eze Gear's social media director this year, Neiman Marcus's the next."

Naret giggled.

Axie shook her head. "The odds are it won't happen."

"I don't care about the odds." Inna gave Axie a playful nudge. "You need to feel victorious, goddess of victory."

"I'm trying."

"If nothing else," said Mnem, "it's nice to see each other every week. You're my support team. It's better than therapy."

"Better than your daughters?" asked Axie.

"Yes." Mnem's smile was half frown. "They don't get it. Not really. They don't feel it here." She tapped her heart.

Inna squeezed Mnem's hand. Axie took Inna's. Naret clasped Axie's.

"Awww," said the salesclerk. "A sisterhood moment. Do you want me to bring more shoes?"

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