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"It's six a.m. on Sunday morning at Gotham's hit oldies station, WGHO. I'm Patti King, your hostess with the mostest, here with you till noon." Yawning, I slapped the button and sat up. Stretching, I padded into the bathroom.

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"Good morning, Alfred! How are you this fine morning?" I asked as I strolled into the kitchen. He started to get up, I glared at him with a smile, then poured a cup of tea for him, and another for myself.

"Very well, Miss Selina. You look smashing this morning. Are you ready for your shopping trip with Miss Barbara?"

"I think so, old friend." I sat next to him, and leaned forward. "To tell the truth, I'm a little bit nervous."

"I wouldn't worry. You'll do wonderfully. I saw Miss Barbara's van pull in on the security monitors. She usually uses the garage entrance. I'd hurry on, if I were you."

I took a gulp of my tea, grabbed my coat and purse, and said, "Thank you, Alfred! I'll give you a call!"

"Ta!" He called as I ran out the door.

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I opened the door just as Barbara's wheelchair lift was delivering her to the concrete driveway.

"Hi, Barbara!"

"Hello, Selina! Nice to meet you, this way, at least." Barbara grinned. "Is there a ladies' room in that museum? I've really gotta..."

"Sure, it's just up the stairs, and … oh, my. I'm sorry." I looked at Barbara's wheelchair, and the steps under the ceiling, leading to the door in which I stood. I inhaled, and said, "Let me help you."

"Thanks. Dick usually does. Just you and me, girl." Barbara said with a smile.

I set down my purse and coat, and marched down the stairs. As I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, I said, "We will have a ramp shortly. I don't know why I didn't ... I'm sorry, I just..."

"Don't worry. I'm used to it by now." Barbara said as I pulled the chair up the first step.

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"Y'know, I actually feel sorry for the guys that are in wheelchairs." Barbara said, as we drove down the Interstate.

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, think about it. A skirt's easier to maneuver in when you've got to use a handicapped stall then a pair of pants. Guys can't wear skirts, however. Pants are much more of a pain, believe me!" She replied with a laugh.

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"Jeez. Look at this lot. We'll never find a spot." I grumbled.

"Oh, yes we will." Barbara replied. "We've got two advantages, the height of the van, and our little blue friend here." She tapped the handicapped tag dangling from the rear-view mirror.

"Hey, I see a couple! Down there on the left!" I called. Barbara accelerated toward it, flipping on her turn signal to claim it. With a screech, a red Porsche swerved around us, sliding in and taking up both spaces. A teenage boy jumped out, shot us a raised middle finger, and then strolled away toward the mall entrance.

"Son of a ... " Barbara said. "Does he have a handicapped sticker? I don't see one."

"Neither do I. Arrogant little twit. He deserves a lesson, preferably expensive." I said as Barbara turned the corner. About half a mile away, we saw another van pulling out, and managed to get in that space.

As Barbara was lowering the ramp, she casually asked, "Got a tampon on you?"

I rummaged through my purse, and said, "Yes, I've got four. Why?"

"Open one up, and keep it handy, would you?"

As we navigated through the piles of snow, we came up to the Porsche. Barbara handed me a business card and pen, and asked, "Write down the license number for the little twit, and give me that tampon, would you, Selina?" I moved behind the car, as Barbara stopped next to it. I wrote, as I heard a thunk next to Barbara. She whistled, then wheeled herself away. I looked around, and shoved some snow in the wheelchair marks next to the car.

As I walked next to Barbara's chair, I silently handed the pen and card back to Barbara, who was whistling 'Jingle Bells'. Barbara tucked them back in her purse, and we entered the mall.

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Barbara stopped, and looked at a mall map. Turning, she wheeled away, navigating through the crowds. She stopped at the Information desk, and asked, "Officer? There's a red Porsche taking up two of the handicapped slots out the south door. It doesn't have a handicapped tag on it."

"Yeah? Thanks." He turned back to his conversation with the blonde working the information desk.

"I wrote down the license plate on one of my father's business cards. Maybe you should check it out, Officer... Malone." Barbara laid the card on the desk next to the tall, redheaded cop, who lazily reached over and picked it up.

"Okay, I'll... Jesus! This is your dad?" The cop choked out.

"Why, yes. Is there a problem, Officer Malone?" Barbara asked with a smile as she asked the blonde, "Where's the closest ladies' room?" The blonde mutely pointed, as the cop hurried off.

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As we waited on line for the ladies' room, I heard the PA announce, "Will the owner of a red Porsche..." The rest was lost in feedback squeal. Barbara said, "I wonder what that's about?" I chuckled.

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As I washed my hands, I asked, "So why did you want the tampon? Besides the obvious."

Barbara chuckled, and said, "Tampons disintegrate in gasoline. They get in the valves, fuel injectors, and other parts of an engine. All I had were pads, and I'm not due to start for another week. You have to pretty much rebuild an engine, and on a Porsche..."

A tall black girl asked as she brushed her hair, "You talking about that red Porsche they're towing out front? I've seen that little twit that drives it before. I'd like to know how some punk teenager like that can afford it!"

A redhead applying lipstick paused, and said, "The cops were putting some kid in a patrol car when I came in. There was a wrecker with a red Porsche they were hauling off." She grinned, and added, "You go, girl!"

Barbara said, "Last time someone steals a handicapped spot while I'm around!" People laughed, and made way as we left the ladies' room.

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"So what's the plan, girl?" I asked as I pushed her chair.

Barbara sipped her coffee, and replied, "First step is to get your hair done." She looked up at me, and shook her head. "I still don't really believe what Dick told me, but I'll trust him. He told you about my previous, um, career?" I nodded, and she said, "That's primarily why I believe it." She pointed, and said, "I made an appointment for you with Renato. While you're in his clutches, I'll start shopping. Dick didn't know your sizes, but he did give me an estimate." She passed me an index card, and said, "Close?"

I studied them. My height, weight, and dress size were all fairly close. I pulled out a pen, and jotted down my correct figures, including shoe size. I passed the card back to Barbara, who considered it, then tucked it in her purse. She finished her coffee, then tossed the paper cup in a bin. Looking at me, she smiled, and said, "C'mon. Time to introduce you to the world of the beauty salon!"

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"Babs! Where have you been! It's been ages!" A dark Italian man rushed over to Barbara, and gave her two quick kisses. She smiled at him, and said, "Renato, this is my friend Selina, I told you about her on the phone. She's in desperate need of your talents. We need to give her 'the works'. She's starting a new job on Monday morning, so she has to look her absolute best. I told her there was nobody like you!"

"But of course!" Renato grabbed my face, turning it this way and that. I managed to smile; wondering why people were seemingly oblivious to the powerful smells emanating from the shop. "Come!" Renato commanded. "Give your coat to Amanda, and we shall begin!"

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"Oh. Barbara?" I tried to sit up, only to find that my hands were secured to the arms of the chair. I started to pull at them, only to hear a feminine giggle.

"Don't worry, dear. We strapped your hands down when you started to pull at your mud mask. You were having some sort of dream; it must have been terrible! See? The straps come right off!" There was the ripping sound of Velcro (tm), and I could move my arms freely. The voice continued, "You'd think you've never been in a salon before, but you calmed down. I'm Becki. Your friend Babs said that she'd meet you in 90 minutes in the food court for lunch. Finish your nap, that's enough time for me to finish your nails."

### Chapter 6: Of Tampons and Beauty