Shimmy Bang Sparkle(4)

Stella made a big thing of frowning and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She pouted at me, the way I once saw a little girl do at a state fair when she dropped her cotton candy in a pile of sheep shit. “It’s so pretty, Nick. But we just can’t. We still haven’t paid off the pickup.”

Now we had a pickup. I could get used to this. “Doesn’t matter.”

Stella shook her head thoughtfully, like maybe she was thinking about rent and groceries and car insurance—shit that made a diamond ring seem untenable. “We’ll think about it,” Stella said. “It’s fun to dream, though.”

No doubt about that at all.

But when Stella tugged on the ring with her thumb and forefinger to take it off, it didn’t cooperate. She furrowed her eyebrows and laughed nervously, wiggling it and spinning it. “That’ll teach me to get extra-large fries with my lunch.”

The saleswoman laughed, nodding, and patted her slightly pudgy stomach. “Tell me about it, hon.”

For a few tense seconds, I stared at the ring. She twisted it and tugged it. She rocked it back and forth. She gave it a yank, but still it didn’t budge. I took her hand in mine and gave it a shot too. But didn’t have any luck. It was totally stuck.

“This isn’t embarrassing or anything,” said Stella softly as she gave it another try, doing the side-to-side rocking again. “I’m sure this is a first.”

“Oh my gosh, no. Fingers often swell in the afternoon. Lemme go get you some lotion. Be right back,” the saleswoman said, and headed for the back of the store.

Stella sighed hard and grabbed her purse from the floor, hooking it over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she called after the woman as she jingled away. “I really apologize. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

The saleswoman tossed her hand in the air. “Totally OK. Hang on.”

As she walked away, though, Stella transformed right before my eyes. It was subtle, but I was watching her so close that it was like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon. The sweet-as-pie innocence was replaced with calm and focus. Her posture changed, the way she’d held her lips changed, even her stance changed. She shifted her hair over her shoulder and turned away from me, preventing me from seeing what she was looking for in her bag. I rolled my weight back onto my heels to get a different angle—not enough for her to notice, but enough to see what was going on. With the help of an oval tabletop mirror to my right, I saw exactly what she was up to. From the side pocket of her purse, she produced a little tube of something.

Hand lotion.

She didn’t call out to the saleswoman, but instead lowered her head slightly, allowing her hair to slip off her shoulder. I realized she was not only keeping her hands hidden from me, but also—thanks to her hair—away from the prying eyes of the black-domed security cameras in each corner of the shop. Suddenly, each detail seemed practiced. Strategic.

Damn near . . . professional.

She flipped open the top of the tube and squirted some onto her finger.

And then she did it. If I hadn’t been watching it, I wouldn’t have believed it. Houdini would’ve wept. Copperfield would’ve proposed. Blaine would have asked her to do a Vegas show with him. Once her finger was greased up, she used the thumb of her left hand to slide the diamond off her finger. It fell noiselessly into her bag. She dropped the tube of lotion on top, and the ring disappeared into the depths of her purse. Then, from the interior side pocket of the purse, she produced . . .

The same setting. The same cut. The same size.

The identical engagement ring.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

I was floored. But somehow, I managed to play it cool. I kept my mouth shut and my holy shiiiiiiit to myself. She didn’t know I’d seen her, and I wasn’t going to blow her cover. Only an asshole interrupts a magician in the middle of an act.

The saleswoman tottered back toward us. The fake was on Stella’s finger, and the real ring was nowhere to be seen. “Here you go, hon,” said the woman, holding out a bottle of lotion with the lid already undone. “Smells real good too.” She squirted a glop of the pink liquid on Stella’s finger, making the whole place smell like laundry detergent.

Stella worked some lotion around her ring finger and slipped off the fake with a big sigh. “Phew! That was a close one.”

The saleswoman just giggled. “No worries. Happens more than you’d think,” she said, and took the keys from her skirt. Using a jewelry cloth, she cleaned the lotion off the ring until it sparkled again, set it on its spinning velvet platform, and locked up the case.

And I thought I’d found my bliss already.

“Thanks so much for all your help,” Stella said, and zipped up her purse.

I felt like I was dreaming. Never in my whole life had I seen anything so goddamned smooth. She seemed sweet, she looked so sexy, and to top it all off, she was utterly badass. I needed to get my hands on her. Now.

“My pleasure,” replied the saleswoman. She refastened her key ring to her skirt and picked up a dustpan on a stick and a broom. “And congrats on your engagement! Please do come back and see us. I’ll be here at nine tomorrow.”

Stella beamed and grabbed my hand. “We’ll be back, won’t we . . . honey?”

I looked her straight in the eye. I was willing to play this one out however she wanted, but the only place I had any intention of being at nine tomorrow morning was with her. In bed. “I’m sure we will.”