Chapter Eight

Florence tapped softly at the door of room 1011, waited, and tapped again. Rebecca arrived and the two women stood several more minutes before a visibly flustered Pia, still in her short silk robe, opened the door.

“Darlin’, since you’re our team fashionista, we thought we’d come up here for inspection before headin’ off to the cattle call.”

“Uh, okay. Come on in. I’m having a little trouble deciding what to wear myself, which is ridiculous because this is just some flirting exercise and not the real thing,” Pia rambled on.

Entering the room, it was apparent that a worry bomb had gone off. Clothes, shoes, and accessories were haphazardly strewn all over the place. Flo and Rebecca stepped through the modish land mines and migrated over to the small sofa while Pia fussed with her hair in the mirror.

“So what do you think?” Becca asked.

“Well, let’s see,” Pia murmured while conducting inspection. Becca, with her hair pulled back into her regulation ponytail, jeans, a white blouse, and a purple cardigan, looked like a perfectly cute, absolutely forgettable collegiate wallflower. And there was absolutely no hope for the shoes—matronly black pumps that in attitude would go fine with a grandma bra, but not with some fire red push-up. And Flo, in her blue knit dress and tan jacket, looked like she was running for PTA president. Her two-tone Ferragamo slingbacks were passable, but that colorful polka-dot scarf tied in a big bow around her neck and huge tote bag had to go.

“Be honest. I’d rather you tell us we look silly than some man we’re supposed to be flirtin’ with.”

“Nothing that a little adjustments couldn’t help,” Pia said as she walked over to the dresser and retrieved her jewelry pouch. “Flo, great basics, but together they scream ‘Excuse me,’ not ‘Meet me,’ so off with the blazer.” Flo removed her jacket to reveal a blank navy blue canvas on which to create.

“Perfect dress. The cut on you is fabulous. Now let’s take this off,” Pia said, confiscating her scarf, “and replace it with this.” From her pouch she pulled a chunky bone necklace with a large silver disc and fastened it around Flo’s neck before handing her a sterling cuff bracelet and tasteful hoop earrings. There was nothing she could do to Flo’s sprayed-in-place hair, so she just smoothed her hands over it and let it go.

“Hmm, you smell great,” Pia commented, sniffing Flo’s new perfume.

“Whoa. And look about ten years younger,” Becca said, impressed by Pia’s quick transformation.

“And use this,” Pia suggested, handing Flo a small silver metallic clutch.

Flo felt herself stand just a bit taller in her shoes. She had no idea that such a simple wardrobe adjustment could make her feel so young, and hip, even.

“Pia, will you take my picture?” Florence requested, handing her a digital camera. “I can’t wait to show Miriam when I get back home.”

“And maybe Dan?” Pia teased.

“My turn,” Becca said, sliding in front of Pia once the photo session was over.

“I think all you need is a little more makeup and these,” Pia said, bending down near the bed to pick up a bronze-colored pair of pointy-toed heels.

“Whoa. These are high,” Becca commented, slipping into the shoes.

“They do take a little getting used to, but in my experience heels are a primo flirtation tool. They make your calves and legs look great and turn an ordinary walk into a major strut. You’d be surprised how many guys have shoe fetishes. Oh, and this would look great,” Pia decided, taking Flo’s discarded scarf and pushing it through Becca’s belt loops before standing her collar upright. Pia took another five minutes to touch up the girl’s makeup, defining and dramatizing her green eyes and full lips and pulling her ponytail up higher on her head, creating a sweet and sexy cascade of honey-colored ringlets.

“Darlin’, you’re lookin’ like Becca now.”

“Pia, could I borrow those?” Becca asked, pointing to a pair of crystal chandelier earrings and the small handbag that matched the shoes.

“Sure.”

Looking like a new fawn taking her first steps, Becca happily negotiated her high-heeled self over to the mirror and put the glitzy earrings in her ears. Immediately she felt sexier and more sophisticated. Gazing at herself with her new makeup and hair, she practiced her rendition of Paris Hilton’s head tilt and flirty smile, and suddenly Cedar Falls felt like a million miles away.

“Now I need to get myself dressed,” Pia said, hurrying off to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she emerged looking lovely but just as nervous as when she’d answered the door.

“Ready?” Becca asked, reaching for her borrowed bag.

“Give me a minute. I want to change my skirt.”

“Why? You look great. I love that outfit,” Florence remarked, admiring Pia’s simple but sophisticated slim black skirt, cap-sleeved silk sweater, and a cascade of chunky jet black beads.

“I feel overdressed. Maybe I should wear jeans,” Pia said, trawling through what was left hanging in her closet. “I think I sprayed on too much perfume. They’ll smell me a mile away.”

“You look amazin’ and you smell just fine. What’s really goin’ on, darlin’?” Flo asked as she snapped a picture.

“You wanted to see my insecurities. Well, here they are. The idea of going to a bar to flirt with a man makes me nauseous, even if it is just a class assignment. The fact is, I’m just no good at this anymore,” Pia finally revealed before plopping down on the bed. “I want to…to start dating more fully again, but lately my dates seem to be one disaster after another.”

“Darlin’, we all have disaster stories. I think one of the reasons I got married so young was because I hated that whole datin’ scene.”

“It’s more than just that. I decided to become celibate five years ago. I’m happy I did. I learned a lot about myself, but now it’s as if a huge part of me is atrophied.”

“Whoa. You don’t look like a woman who doesn’t have sex,” Becca remarked, her eyes and mouth both opened wide with astonishment.

“You know the old saying ‘Never judge a book…’” Pia said, not knowing how she could adequately explain her situation.

She still made it a point to dress and act in ways that made her feel sexy and desirable, as the last thing she wanted to lose was her sex life and her self-esteem. Men still regularly approached her, initially compelled by her mystery and appearance, but later they were turned off by her restraint. Eventually, to avoid the awkward explanations of why she wasn’t having sex, she’d pretty much stopped dating, packed up her womanly wiles, and put them in storage with her libido and sexual confidence. So after twenty years of charming the pants off men, she was now in an exclusive relationship with her vibrator and a head full of sometimes nasty, sometimes romantic fantasies.

“Oh, come on, honey. You’re beautiful, smart, successful, and have that cool charisma goin’ for you. How bad can you be?”

“Well, I haven’t had a second date in more than two years. That’s pretty bad—so bad that after my last fiasco my secretary found it necessary to stage this emergency intervention.”

“What happened?” Becca pressed. She was curious, and concerned that if a woman as fabulous as Pia Jamison could have trouble with men, she didn’t have a chance.

“Let’s just say that it was just the last in a long line of bad dates,” Pia said, not wanting to get into all the embarrassing specifics. “My dating life has been a fiasco for years now.”

“Haven’t you ever been in love, darlin’?”

“Love and I don’t seem to mix,” Pia admitted. She could feel her barriers breaking down as she shared her sad dating history with these women. “There was this guy named Rodney,” she began.

Pia winced with painful anger at the memory of Rodney Timble. Even after six years, his memory haunted her. God, she had adored that man. With Rodney, being in love had the same gooey, sentimental appeal that those lovesick romance novel readers gushed over.

And where had that gotten her? She’d given herself to him mind, body, and soul before finding out that she was not his first love but work was. When Pia confronted him, Rodney unceremoniously dumped her, making it clear that although he loved her, there was no relationship more important to him than his professional dream. The drummer, who was now on a world tour with Alicia Keys, had simply walked out of their apartment and life together with a dismissive wave and a “man’s gotta do” all-attitude pass.

“That must have hurt,” Florence interrupted.

“Is he why you stopped having sex?” Becca asked.

“Yes. At least at first,” Pia explained.

Devastated and with no one waiting in the wings, Pia had not found celibacy to be difficult that first year. She was too busy grieving her lost relationship to care about sex. Year two had been a year of personal resolve. To push away the body cravings, Pia kept reminding herself that she didn’t need a man to make her happy or whole. This resulted in the accumulation of a treasure chest full of sex toys and erotica and the occasional rendezvous where she allowed herself the pleasure of light kissing and gentle petting. But after far too many dates gone bad, she once again retired from the singles scene. The third year of her sexual fast turned into an exercise in spiritual cleansing and becoming one with her higher self.

Early that year she’d met Lamar, who became the first man who truly tested her resolve. He assured Pia that while he desperately wanted to make love to her, he respected her decision. Basking in the loving kindness of his understanding, she seriously contemplated giving up her celibate lifestyle until she discovered that his patience and sexual needs were being satisfied by a long list of women he met through an Internet sex site.

“Ewww,” Becca commented.

“What a pig. Pickin’ up prostitutes on his computer? That’s just a new level of sleazy and lazy. I have to agree with you, darlin’; your man quest system needs a tune-up.”

“I just shut it off. I’m done with grandiose ideas centered on men and marriage.”

“I’d be mad as hell, but you don’t seem bitter,” Flo observed.

“No, just tired of the games and their emotional aftermath.”

Unburdening herself from the need for men and taming her desires, Pia had put males on the shelf and gone to work on herself. Without a man’s rude insertion into her life these past few years, she’d managed to climb from senior producer to senior vice president. For her hard work and impressive success record, she was compensated handsomely, her salary well into six figures. With only one mouth to feed, Pia was able to support herself in lavish style, from her apartment in pricey Chelsea to a to-die-for collection of vintage clothes and handbags to exotic travel wherever in the world she fancied. She’d become an even more fascinating, self-reliant woman and was happy living the exciting life she’d created for herself. Yet now, in an ironic twist, the only thing missing was the one thing she couldn’t have without a man’s assistance.

“So you want to date again ’cause you’re ready to fall in love?” Becca asked.

“No, I’m not looking for love or a mate. Just a man to father my child. But because I’ve been off the market for so long, I don’t have a clue how to make a guy call me back for a second date, let alone impregnate me.

“So you want to know why I’m here, well, there it is.”

Florence and Becca sat in silent disbelief. Pia couldn’t tell if they were appalled by her lack of social finesse or her plan to have a baby without a husband. The idea of being judged by these two women, who through a forced kind of intimacy had quickly become her friends, felt wickedly uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you just adopt? Plenty of great kids out there need a home,” Becca asked. “My parents did it. Tom and Nicole, Angelina and Brad, even did it,” she added, as if a celebrity endorsement might help. “Plus, it might not seem so bad that you don’t have a husband.”

“I haven’t totally ruled out adoption, but if I can, I’d really like to experience pregnancy.”

“So what’s your mama and daddy sayin’ about all this?” Flo asked.

“My dad died years ago, and I figured I’d wait until I had something to announce before I said anything to my mom.” Pia was not at all looking forward to that discussion, so it was definitely a bridge she’d cross only when and if necessary.

“Well, that explains the way you were lookin’ at that baby in the mall,” Florence said, her gaze directed at the charm around Pia’s neck, “and your icon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I noticed the label on the tray yesterday didn’t say ‘love’ at all. You picked out a symbol that stands for ‘mother.’”

Pia lifted her hands to her neck and gently covered the pendant. Her silence was comment enough.

“Well, then, darlin’, I may not agree with the whole no-husband thingie, but who am I to judge? Havin’ three babies with Dan sure didn’t guarantee he’d stick around. So put on whatever you’re gonna put on and let’s get out there and get you datin’.”