Part 6 (1/2)

”Well, it's the truth. I know my way around guys, but I didn't always. I'm going to have to take you in hand and give you some serious pointers. Stand up.”

Carrie rolled her eyes, but she got to her feet.

”First off, you're standing all wrong.” ”I have good posture,” Carrie defended herself.

”I'm not talking about posture. I'm talking about att.i.tude. Pick up your chin, stick out your b.o.o.bs.”

Carrie did as she was told. ”I feel ridiculous,” she muttered.

”You look hot,” said Sam. ”But your arms are a problem. They're just hanging there. Always keep them bent. It makes you look like you're holding a cigarette or a drink, even though you're not. You get the cool effect without tras.h.i.+ng your health.” Sam placed one of Carrie's hands on her hip and crossed her other arm over her body so that hand touched the same hip. ”That's better,” she said.

”Did you read this stuff in a book or are you making it up?” asked Emma.

”These are tried and true guy-getting fundamentals,” Sam said in an offended tone. ”Now you have the stance. Let's concentrate on your face. It's completely wrong.” ”Thanks. That makes me feel great,” said Carrie, still holding her ”cool” position.

”It's okay, we can fix it,” Sam a.s.sured her. ”Here's what you do. Pucker your lips as though you're about to give a big kiss. Now relax them a little.” Carrie did as she was told. ”Excellent,” said Sam. ”And remember to lick them a lot.

Wet lips make guys crazy.” ”I don't know about this,” said Carrie. ”I feel like a dope.” ”Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. Now I'll give you my real secret. The eyes. It's a system all my own that I've perfected. You should listen to this, too, Emma.” ”Speak, oh great one,” Emma quipped.

”Don't laugh. This really works. Here.” Sam opened her blue eyes wide. ”You look at a guy like this when he says something he thinks is clever. It shows you're really impressed.” Next, Sam narrowed her eyes and looked off to the side. ”This one says, 'I'm losing interest, work a little harder.' You use it once you're sure the guy likes you. It makes it seem like you might get away. It hooks them good.

”Now I am about to show you my secret weapon,” Sam continued as she lowered her chin and then gazed up at Carrie and Emma from beneath heavy lids. ”This look is the killer. Only use it if you're ready, willing, and able. It drives guys insane with l.u.s.t.” Emma and Carrie gazed at each other in an imitation of Sam's come-hither look. Then they burst out laughing.

”Laugh! Laugh all you like,” cried Sam indignantly. ”But I'm telling you, this stuff works.” ”Are you going to use this . . . technique on Flash Hathaway?”

asked Carrie mischievously.

”Oh', yuck! No!” Sam recoiled at the idea.

”You know, he was at the party. He was dancing with Kristy,” Carrie told her.

Sam's face darkened. ”Really? I bet that little tramp is after my modeling job!

Maybe I will have to use one of my looks on him, after all. Just the 'Oh, wow!

That was clever!' look, though. You can get a lot of mileage out of that one without actually doing anything. It's a great stalling technique.” ”I guess it lets you stroke a guy's ego instead of something else,” laughed Emma.

Carrie gave Emma a playful slap on the arm. ”You're getting as bad as Sam.”

”Maybe I'm just growing up a little,” Emma replied seriously. ”It's like this summer is some kind of turning point for me. One thing I'm sure about: whatever I do, whatever decisions I make at the end of this, my'life will never be the same.” Carrie expected Sam to make a crack, but she didn't. She was gazing out at the ocean. ”I know what you mean,” she murmured absently. Is she thinking about the future, too? Carrie wondered.

Leaning back on her elbows, Carrie let her own thoughts drift. All right, so her first attempt at being the new Carrie had been a disaster. That didn't mean she should give up. In a way, the problem had been that she'd been so afraid of the new role that she'd tried to hide behind the alcohol. Maybe the key was to do it straight. No matter how nervous she was.

”Do you really think I stand a chance against Kristy?” she asked.

”If you dont roll over and play dead, yeah,” Sam answered. ”In a way, I'm in the same position you are. The only reason Kristy would give Flash the time of day is because she's after a modeling job. But I'm not going to just sit back and see what happens. Maybe Flash is only looking for one model. And maybe he'll pick Kristy if I don't do something about it. I think it's time for me to take a little direct action.” ”Be careful. I don't trust him,” Emma warned Sam.

”I can handle Flash. He's got what I want-a chance to break into modeling. And I'm not letting any twit named Kristy take it away from me. I think Carrie should have the same att.i.tude. Direct action beats pa.s.sive nonaction every time.” ”What do you mean, direct action? You think I should ask Billy out?”

Carrie asked.

”What have you got to lose?” ”My pride, my self-respect, and my mind when he says no,” Carrie suggested.

”That's what I mean,” said Sam with a devilish smile. ”You don't have much to lose.” ”Aaagh!” Carrie cried, laughing. ”You are impossible!” ”I think you should ask him out,” Emma agreed. ”As it stands, you think you're not going to see him again anyway. So there really isn't anything to lose.” ”I'm going to do it,” Carrie resolved. ”I'd really like a chance to ... ah ... redeem myself. And this may be the only way to do it.” ”Good girl!” said Sam, getting to her feet.

”I'd better get going. Mr. Jacobs has another date and 'he wants me home by ten to supervise the monsters.” ”How was the party?” asked Emma as the girls climbed the stairs back up to the boardwalk.

”A living h.e.l.l,” Sam answered. ”Can you imagine me having to stop kids from making out in the closets?” ”No,” Emma giggled.

”I felt ancient, like I was an old biddy or something. I spent the whole night running around breaking up lovebirds, confiscating beer cans and cigarettes, and generally being a killjoy. I mean, that's what I was being paid to do. So I did it.” ”I'm glad Ian and Chloe are younger,” said Carrie.

”Yeah, at least you caught Ian one year before the big thirteen. He's still manageable,” agreed Sam.

”Not completely, though,” said Carrie. She told them what had happened on the beach the morning after her disastrous date. ”He was crabby for the whole day,”

she concluded.

”Poor kid,” said Sam. ”I had the opposite problem at his age. The kids used to call me Stork, 'cause I was so tall. At the time it really hurt.” ”Yeah, I felt sorry for him,” Carrie said. They walked on for a while without talking. It was now dark, the boardwalk busy with people out for the evening. A warm breeze blew while the waves crashed steadily against the sh.o.r.e.

”What are you going to do about Claudia's missing shoes?” Emma asked after a while.

”Hope she doesn't miss them until I save up enough money to replace them,” said Carrie. ”I know she bought them in that nice shop over at the Sunset Inn,” she added, naming the most exclusive hotel on the island. ”They must have another pair like them.” ”What will you do if she misses them before that?” asked Emma.

”I don't know,” Carrie admitted. ”I just don't know.” The next day, Carrie sat on her bed counting out the money she'd earned so far. In one pile she put fifty dollars. That would be enough to pay for dinner in a restaurant. She hoped so, anyway. If she asked Billy out, she wanted to be able to pay.

In another pile was eighty dollars. Would it be enough to buy Claudia a new pair of shoes? Not in a million years, she thought. She'd been fooling herself to think she could ever replace the lost pair. A visit to the shop at the Sunset Inn had made that quite clear. She couldn't believe the prices. The most inexpensive shoes there were two hundred dollars.

Before this summer Carrie hadn't even realized that they made clothing and shoes that cost hundreds, even thousands, of dollars. It just hadn't ever sunk in. Of course, she'd known there was such a thing as designer clothes. But it had never dawned on her that real people actually paid so much money for them. Carrie knew for a fact that Claudia owned a pair of heels that had cost over five hundred dollars! Carrie remembered the day Claudia had brought them home. Carrie's first reaction was that it was absurd-maybe even immoral-to spend that kind of money on shoes. Naturally, she couldn't tell Claudia that, so she had simply admired the shoes. And though it now made her a little uncomfortable to admit it, even to herself, the truth was that she'd felt more than a little bit superior to Claudia that day. At least her own values were in place.

Now, just weeks later, things ho longer seemed so clear-cut. She'd learned that Claudia and Graham did a lot of good things with their money. Graham had donated a music scholars.h.i.+p to a college. They gave a lot to charity. Claudia was even chairwoman of the Artists' Coalition for the Homeless. So, if Claudia wanted five-hundred-dollar shoes and could afford them, who was Carrie to judge her?

More to the point, who was Carrie to borrow and then lose them?

”They're just shoes, for heaven's sake,” Carrie muttered, gathering her money off the bed. She'd always had a strict conscience. It tormented her when she did things other people might not think twice about. If she snapped at someone unfairly, or even pilfered a pen from someone, she could expect sleepless nights.

”Put it out of your mind,” she commanded herself. This hyperactive conscience was something that was going to have to be discarded if the new Carrie was to emerge. ”It's a new world,”

Carrie told her reflection in the mirror. ”Goodbye, goody-two-shoes.” She moved to her bed and looked at the white slim-line phone on her night table.

Graham and Claudia had provided her with her own phone number and unlimited use of the phone. ”Consider it part of your pay,” Graham had told her. ”Try not to call Hong Kong too often, if you catch my drift.” Gathering her courage, Carrie called local information. ”Do you have a number for Billy Sampson over on Dune Road?” she asked the operator.

”The listing is under the name of Presley Travis, hon,” said the operator before giving Carrie the number.

”How did you know that?” asked Carrie as she wrote down the number.

”It's a small isIand. It didn't take long to learn who lives over at that address,” the operator told her knowingly. ”It seems I get at least one call a day from some girl trying to locate one of the fellas at that house. What are they? Some kind of musicians or something?” ”Yes, they are. Thanks,” Carrie said, then hung up. Terrific. I'm about to become one of a zillion groupies who chase the guys in the band.

”Oh, what the heck!” Carrie took a deep breath and punched in the numbers.

”Flirtation station,” answered a familiar male voice.