Every time we were about to go out, Barbara would call, saying she was sick or had sprained her ankle. And Phyll would drop everything with no hesitation. Later, he’d bring me some cheap pair of earrings or a ring as “compensation.”
I told myself to be understanding since Barbara once even praised me in front of everyone, calling me generous, telling Phyll he should make it up to me.
But now I see. Even the “make-up gifts” were just her leftovers.
Barbara walked into the fitting room, and within seconds, she tossed lingerie over the curtain straight into Phyll’s face.
“Phyll, I can't put them on! Get in here and help me before I freeze!”
The others burst into laughter.
“Phyll, Barbara said earlier you’d be the one putting on every single piece she tries today. Better get in there now!”
“Knock it off,” Phyll chuckled, but his legs carried him straight into the fitting room without hesitation.
As the door swung open, I caught a glimpse of Barbara’s bare, tanned shoulders before he pulled her into his arms and quickly slammed the door, shielding her from any eyes but his.
Soon, her playful scolding drifted through the door. “Can’t even button it right. What are you sniffing for?”