I glanced around the twelve hundred square foot boutique. Compared to what else San Diego had to offer, it wasn’t much. I’d always dreamt of having a nursery, but knew I’d never be able to afford one.

So, I settled for a shoe store. Some of the sandals had floral patterns on them. For the time being, that would have to suffice.

“I’m going to have a sale starting next Monday,” I said. “Let’s use the same signs we used last spring.”

Tisha nodded. “The flowers?”

“Yes.” I said, gesturing toward the plastic tubes that sat in the corner of the stock room. “The flowers.”

“Okay.”

Tisha was a slender vegan that didn’t have the love for shoes that I did. She did, however, have great work ethic. In three years, she hadn’t missed a single day’s work. I trusted her to open, close, and supervise all the part-time employees.

Her choices in clothing and persistent use of sandals left me wondering if she’d go barefoot if I allowed it. Wearing an off the shoulders transparent beige dress and a pair of Billabong Rory vegan-friendly slingback sandals, she looked like she should be working at one of California’s many pot farms.

She followed me to the sales floor, and then looked at the displays with disgust in her eyes.

“Do you hate shoes?” I asked.

She turned toward me and wrinkled her nose. “Truthfully?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”

“I mean. Kind of. If I didn’t have to wear them, I wouldn’t.”

I picked up a Stuart Weitzman Nudist and admired the fabric of the strappy stiletto. “I’m surprised it took me this long to ask. I’ve been wondering.”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“I don’t care.” I smiled and placed the shoe on the display. “You’re a great employee, and that’s all that matters.”

She smiled in return. “Thank you.”

I faced her. “Are you still seeing that guy that rides the motorcycle?”

She walked to the window and peered out at the street. “Trent?”

“The guy with the beard,” I said.

“They’ve all got beards.” She glanced over her shoulder. “No. I’ve been seeing another guy. He doesn’t ride, but he’s got a beard. I think we’re about done, though. He’s kind of needy.”

She seemed distraught. I regretted asking about her former lover and offered an apology, of sorts. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” She meandered to the far display, picked up a strapless sandal, and massaged the sole with her thumbs. “I miss him. It sucks.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Tisha. I’m sure you’ll meet someone that will appreciate you for who you are.”

She looked up. “Thanks. Why did you ask about him? Trent?”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“No. I was just. I started seeing a guy. Kind of seeing a guy. This guy was riding…” I cleared my throat. “I’m screwing a guy that rides a motorcycle, and I was wondering if you had any advice about men on motorcycles, that’s all.”

Her face lit up. “That’s awesome!”

“What’s awesome?”

Her eyebrows raised. “That you’re getting laid.”

I wondered how she knew I hadn’t been getting laid but feared asking. I fought the urge to grin, but only partially succeeded. “Yeah, it’s been pretty fun, so far.”

“How long have you been, you know?” She wagged her eyebrows. “Seeing him?”

“I met him thirty-five days ago. We had sex the first time thirteen days after that. We’ve been steadily going at it ever since.”

She smiled. “Excited much?”

“Huh?”

“It’s cute that you’re counting the days. He must be pretty cool.”

He was much more than pretty cool. It seemed he shared my beliefs on many things that so many others didn’t. He was completely contrary to the man I would have seen myself with as a young woman, but now that I was older, he seemed to suit me very well.

I wondered what changed. Why accepting a man like Cash came so easily now yet seemed so out of place when I was younger?

Marvin was a finance major and a nerd. At the time, I was convinced he was exactly what I needed. I decided it was the failed marriage of a man who wore a suit to work every day that caused me to seek a relationship in someone who was the polar opposite of him.

“He is.” I looked at her and grinned. “He’s way cool.”

It was nice to talk about him to someone other than Jennifer. I realized I was fondling a wedge and set it aside as if it were on fire.

“Sorry,” I said. “I can’t stand those things.”

Her eyes knitted together. “What?”

“Wedges. I want them to out of style. They did once. It needs to happen again.” I glared at the display. “I wish I could change things.”

“There’s so much I wish I could change,” she said. “Don’t even get me started.”

“With style?” I asked.

“With everything. This guy I’m seeing, for one. He’s so…he cries. All. The. Time. What happened to men being men? I want a man who makes me feel like he can smash the face of all the creeps that creep on me. James wouldn’t smash a grape, let alone a guy’s face. I want a man who makes me feel like I’m a woman. Trent did that. James makes me feel like I need to be ready to protect him.”

I chuckled. “I think Cash would smash anyone’s face who looked at me cock-eyed.”

“His name’s Cash?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s awesome.” She pulled a sandal from the display and studied it. “Does he have any friends?”

“He’s got a few, but they’re all pretty hard-core bikers.”

“Hard-core bikers are loyal,” she said. “All you’ve got to do is fuck ‘em, feed ‘em, and never ask questions about what they do when they’re gone.”

“Can I ask what happened with Trent?” I asked. “Why that didn’t work out?”

She shrugged. “I forgot the last part of that three-part rule. I guess that’d be my only advice. There’s the life they live at home, and the life they live when they’re gone. Don’t ask questions about what he does when he’s away.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You said he’s hard-core,” she said. “Does he ride in a club?”

“He does,” I responded pridefully.

Her gaze fell to the floor. After a long pause, she looked up. “Yeah. You’ll need to remember that last part, for sure.”