Inside Straight

Tiffani was already wandering toward the shoes. The salesgirl leaned over the counter. “Are you from American Hero?“ she asked softly. “Is that Tiffani?”

“Yep.”

“Do you think you could get me her autograph?”

It stung. I was used to being the person who was singled out. “Just a minute,” I said, taking the paper and pen.

I walked to Tiff, who was looking at a pair of Stuart Weitz-man sandals. “Three hundred dollars for a pair of shoes?” she exclaimed. “Seriously, do people here just like pissing money away?”

“If they were Manolos or Jimmy Choos, they’d be a lot more expensive,” I said. I picked up a pair of Dolce & Gabbana pumps and contemplated them for a moment. At my current weight, I’d snap the delicate heel in no time.

“But these aren’t even all that pretty.”

“It’s fashion,” I replied, putting the pumps back on their display stand. “Hey, the salesgirl at the perfume counter would like your autograph.” I pulled the pen and paper out of my pocket and handed them to her.

“Really?” Tiff said, glancing in the direction of the perfume counter. She looked surprised and thrilled. “I didn’t think she even recognized us.”

I smiled at her excitement. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re a star.”

She beamed up at me. I wanted to kiss her. I hated that she grew up poor and didn’t have nice things. I wanted to give her everything she’d missed and everything she desired.

~ ~ ~

We finally ended up at the Gap, a few doors away from Bergdorf’s. Tiff had a ball picking out sweaters, jeans, shirts, and coats for her siblings.

“So,” I said as Tiffani handed over her prepaid Visa card to the clerk. “Got any money left over for yourself?”

“I doubt it,” she replied. “But it doesn’t really matter. And I’m glad I found that sale rack.” She looked over at me. “Why haven’t you bought anything?”

I jammed my hands into my pants pockets. The only thing I’d seen during our shopping that I wanted had been an ultra-stretchy track suit. It was made of some micro-fiber I’d never heard of and had a beautiful drape and wasn’t shiny. But it was also fantastically expensive, and I didn’t want Tiffani seeing me spend my whole amount on one thing. Besides, I had a better way to spend my money.

We grabbed Tiff’s bags and headed for the door. But just outside the store there was a crowd blocking our way.

“I wonder what’s going on?” Tiffani said. Then the cameras started clicking, and we realized that they were waiting for us. “Tiffani! Over here!” shouted one excited preteen. Her friends squealed when Tiff looked their way. “Oh my God, she looked at me!”

Tiff walked over and said hello to them. Another wave of squealing was set off. I stood there, feeling awkward.

“Are you the Amazing Bubbles?” a gawky boy wearing an oversized T-shirt asked me.

“Yes,” I replied. “I am.”

“Would you sign my shirt?”

“Sure,” I said. One of the clerks handed me a Sharpie and offered to hold our packages while we were signing autographs. “Front or back?” I asked.

He turned around. “Back.”

I signed his back—“The Amazing Bubbles.” He turned and gave me a big grin, so I held my hand out and made a baseball-size bubble. I released it, and it floated over to him. He caught it and held it in his hands for a few seconds before it popped.

A few more people asked me for autographs—but when I was finished I saw that Tiff was not only still signing, but that even more people were gathering around her. I decided to slip off and take care of the shopping I wanted to do while she took care of her fans.

When I returned, I was surprised to see that the crowd was even bigger than before. And then I realized why: Tiffani had turned to diamond. The lights in the mall were hitting her and bouncing off her faceted skin, making rainbows on the walls. As she moved she twinkled. She shone like a star. It was bittersweet. I was accustomed to being the one people noticed, but I couldn’t begrudge Tiff the attention. I could see her grinning. She was beaming, and so excited.

“Bubbles,” I heard her say. “Where’s Bubbles?”

“I’m here, Tiff,” I said loudly.

“Come here!”

“I can’t. You’re surrounded.”

“Make a hole!” she yelled. The crowd parted and she ran to me. “This is the Amazing Bubbles! You’re going to be hearing a lot about her.” She grabbed my hand with her long, cool, diamond fingers and dragged me into the center of the crowd. “Show the people what you can do.”

I felt my face grow hot, and I knew I was blushing. “This isn’t the place.…”

She gave me a little poke in the arm. “Stop being so shy. One more little bubble won’t hurt.”

I couldn’t say no to her. And I was touched that she had dragged me into the center of her throng of fans. I turned my palms up and felt the electric sensation surge through them. I released a stream of hundreds of multi-size bubbles toward the ceiling, very Lawrence Welky. They caught the lights and shimmered, then vanished.

“It’s so beautiful,” I heard someone say.