She set Power next to The Sting. Richard Gere's bedroom eyes gazed out from the cover. Stephanie pushed the two dollars toward Rune and rang up the rental. The woman snagged the cassettes and left the store.

"How'd you know?" Stephanie asked Rune.

"Look." She typed in the woman's membership number into the computer and called up a history of all the movies she'd rented.

"That's cheating."

"Don't bet if you don't know the odds."

"I don't know, Rune," Stephanie said. "You think Mr. Kelly was into hidden treasure or something, but look, here's this woman rents Richard Gere films ten times in six months. That's just as weird as Kelly."

Rune shook her head. "Naw, you know why she does that? She's having an affair with him. You know the way it is now, sex is dangerous. You have to take matters into your own hands. So to speak. Makes sense to me."

"Funny, you seem like more of a risk-taker-tracking down hidden treasure and murderers. But you won't go to bed with a guy."

"I'll sleep with somebody. I just want to make sure it's the right somebody."

" 'Right'?" Stephanie snorted. "You do like your impossible quests, don't you."

Rune slipped the bootleg Manhattan Is My Beat into the VCR. A few minutes later she mused, "Wasn't she beautiful?" On the screen Ruby Dahl, with the bobbed blond hair, was walking hand in hand with Dana Mitchell, playing her fiance, Roy, the cop. The Brooklyn Bridge loomed in the background. It was before the robbery. Roy had been called in by his captain and told what a good job he was doing. But the young patrolman was worrying because he was broke. He had to support his sick mother. He didn't know when he and Ruby'd be able to get married. Maybe he'd leave the force-go to work for a steel company.

"But you're so good at what you do, Roy, darling. I would think they'd want you to be commissioner. Why, if I were in charge that's what I'd make you."

Handsome Dana Mitchell walked beside her solemnly. He told her she was a swell gal. He told her what a lucky stiff he was. The camera backed away from them and the two people became insignificant dots in a shadowy black-and-white city.

Rune glanced down at the countertop. "Ohmygod!"

"What?" Stephanie asked, alarmed.

"It's a phone message."

"So?"

"Where's Frankie? Dammit. I'm going to kick his butt…"

"What?"

"He took the message but he just left it here under these receipts." She held it up. "Look, look! It's from Richard. I haven't heard from him since yesterday. He dropped me off on the West Side."

Rune grimaced. "Kissed me on the cheek good-bye."

"Ouch. A cheek-kiss only?"

"Yeah. And after he'd seen me topless."

Stephanie shook her head. "That's not good."

"Tell me about it."

The message read:

Rune-Richard asked you over for dinner tomorrow, at seven, hes cooking. He has a surprise for you and he also said why the hell don't you get a phone. Ha ha but he was kidding

"Yes! I thought he'd given up on me after we went to the nursing home on Sunday."

"Nursing home? Rune, you gotta pick more romantic places for dates."

"Oh, I'm going to! I've got this totally excellent junkyard I go to-"

"No, no, no."

"It's really neat." She fluffed her hair out again. "What should I wear? I have this polka-dot tank top I just got at Second-Hand Rose. And this tiger-skin skirt that's about eight inches wide… What?"

"Tiger skin?"

"Oh, like, it's not real… If you're into rain forests and stuff like that. I mean, it was made in New Jersey-"

"Rune, the problem isn't endangered species."

"Well, what is the problem?"

Stephanie was examining her closely. "Are those glow-in-the-dark earrings?"

"I got them last Halloween," she said defensively, touching the skulls. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

"You like fairy stories, right?"

"Sure."

"You remember Cinderella?"

"Oh, it's the best. Did you know in the real story, the Brothers Grimm story, the mother cut the ugly sisters' heels off with a knife so their feet would fit into the-"

"Rune." Stephanie said it patiently.

"What?"

"Let's think about the Disney version for a minute."

Rune looked at her cautiously. "Okay."

"You remember it?"

"Yeah."

Stephanie walked around Rune slowly, examining her. "You understand what I'm getting at?"

"Oh… a makeover?"

Stephanie smiled. "Don't take it personal. But I think you need a fairy godmother."

Rune wanted slinky.

Stephanie reluctantly indulged her but the expedition to stores that specialized in svelte was a failure. Rune spent a half hour in tiny, hot changing rooms trying on long black dresses and playing with her hair, trying to look like Audrey Hepburn, trying to look slinky. But then the word frumpy crept into her mind and, even though she could strip and look at her flat stomach and thin legs and pretty face, once she thought frump, that killed it. No long dresses today.

"You win," she muttered to Stephanie.

"Thank you" was the abrupt reply. "Now let's get to work."

They walked south, out of the Village.

"Richard likes long and slinky," Rune explained.

"Of course he does," Stephanie replied. "He's a man. He probably likes red and black bustiers and garters too." But she went on to explain patiently that a woman should never buy clothes for a man. She should buy clothes for herself, which will in turn make the man respect and desire her more.

"You think?"

"I know."

"Radical," Rune said.

Stephanie rolled her eyes and said, "We'll go for European."

"Richard's very French-looking. I'd like to get him to change his name."

"To what?"

"It was Francois. Now I'm leaning toward Jean-Paul."

"What does he think about that?"

"Haven't told him. I'm going to wait a few weeks."

"Wise."

SoHo, the former warehouse and manufacturing district adjoining Greenwich Village, was just becoming chic. The area used to be a bastion of artists-in-residence- working painters and sculptors, who were the only people who could legally live in the neighborhood under the city zoning code. But while the city granted permits only to certified artists, it did nothing about controlling the cost of the huge lofts, and as the galleries and wine bars and boutiques moved into the commercial buildings, the residential prices skyrocketed into the hundreds of thousands… It was funny how many lawyers and bankers suddenly found they had talent to paint and sculpt.

They passed one clothing store, painted stark white inside. Rune stopped abruptly and gazed at a black silk blouse.

"Love it."

"So do I," Stephanie agreed.

"Can we get it?"

"No."

"Whv not? What's wrong with it?"

"See that tag? That's not the order number. That's the price."

"Four hundred and fifty dollars!"

"Come on, follow me. I know a little Spanish place up the street."

They turned off West Broadway onto Spring and walked into a store that Rune loved immediately because a large white bird sitting on a perch by the door said, "Hello, sucker," to them when they entered.

Rune looked around. She said, "I'm game. But it's not funky. It's not New Wave."

"It's not supposed to be."

After twenty minutes of careful assembly, Stephanie examined Rune with approval and only then allowed her to look in a mirror.

"Awesome," Rune whispered. "You're a magician."

The maroon skirt was long though it was more billowy than slinky. On top she wore a low-cut black T-shirt and over that a lacy see-through blouse. Stephanie picked out some dangly earrings in orange plastic.

"It's not the old me but it's definitely a sort of me."