The Red Coral Society

Tuesday was mostly uneventful. I passed by Bottlebrush Tree, as I always had. The yellow dress was still in the window, its mannequin now holding a silver beaded purse shaped like an owl in its outstretched plastic hand.

***

I arrive at work at eight a.m. It is as if the crime scene never existed. Our dress shop is empty, except for a few unclaimed wedding dresses. Betty and I spend the morning packing up the office: books, press kits, supplies.

Before we pack the CD player, we listen to my Goodbye Dress Shop Mix:

(1) Broadcast, "Tears in the Typing Pool,"
(2) Juana Molina, "Micael,"
(3) Snow Patrol, "Shut Your Eyes."

Betty doesn't want to talk about Maribel or our jobs, so I pass her the packing tape and she seals boxes. Finally, I have to ask. "You met the Queen Conch. Do you think we'll ever hear from her again?"

"I didn't meet her," says Betty. "You mean at the show? Eva rushed her off stage, soon as the lights went down. Didn't even get my mom's t-shirt signed."

Betty throws a framed photo of the Queen in Tokyo into the box. "I really like my job. I don't want to go back to the Tropical Blush counter at Macy's."

I can't think of anything to say to make Betty feel better, so I hand her another piece of tape. "You don't even have Tropical Blush," she adds.

She's right. Even though I'm in my almost-thirties, this third assistant gig is my best prospect.

I press my hand against the window to say goodbye to Miracle Mile. The End.

Betty and I drag the boxes down to the curb. It is then that something sort of eventful happens, but I'm not going to make a big deal about it. Sometimes I feel like I've spent most of my life making a big deal about nothing at all.

As I set my box down, I see Eva leaving the new building. She quickly throws her arms around a man in a grey suit. I'm thinking about how strange it is to see Eva attached, when the man turns and adjusts his tortoise shell glasses.

It makes sense. Eva is blonde and perfect and a first assistant. I can't even figure out the right hair products. Of course Eva is dating Brad.

"That's him, isn't it?" Betty asks. "He's not so Clooney in person. Plus, if he's dumb enough to date that over-perfumed diva-in-training..."

"Do you know anything about that building? Or that symbol, the heart-shaped shell?" I ask Betty. Betty looks around, then leads us away from Brad and Eva.

"I've only heard rumors," she says.

"So what's the rumor?" Betty's been especially jumpy since Maribel's death.

"It's a meeting place. For the Red Coral Society." says Betty. I start laughing.

"No, really." Betty's expression doesn't change. "Betty, the Red Coral Society is totally fictional. Didn't you read that book that came out, by the local historian, Juan Rosado? He spent years researching the Society and then finally admitted it was probably a story invented by Spanish settlers to pass the time in the heat."

To summarize the five-hundred page book I skimmed on the plane to Miami, if you believe the myth, the Red Coral Society is a secret society founded by Ponce de Leon. Its purpose: to continue Ponce de Leon's search for the Fountain of Youth. Some say that one of the conquistador's descendants actually found the Fountain and is still alive today. I think most storytellers have read The Da Vinci Code one too many times.

"I don't read history, but I do read the tabs," says Betty, "and it exists."

Before I can respond, Brad and Eva appear.

"So I hear you're the one responsible for getting rid of Brad's pink shirt. Bravo," says Eva, squeezing my arm. I should tell you, I don't like touchers or trappers and right now, Eva is both.

"I spill things," I say. Brad grins at me. Eva sees this and loops her arm in his. "I'd better go...I think I left the last chapter of the Queen's book upstairs." Betty covers the label on a box she's holding marked "Final Chapter."

"But I was going to treat you both to a farewell cafecito," says Eva, pouting.

"You guys go on ahead, I'll only be a minute." I run back into the dress shop and stop to catch my breath. I don't care if Brad's dating Eva, really I don't. He's too vanilla for me, anyway. I can't see him ever making me a mix CD, and if he did, it would probably have John Mayer on it. But it still doesn't seem fair that Eva should have everything.