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“You don’t need one. Just leave it to me.”
Phoenix took the next right, while Lorenzo placed a call and began speaking to someone in Spanish. His tone was light and cheerful, and he ended up laughing and joking with whoever was on the line. When he disconnected the call, he told me, “You’re all set for a haircut in thirty minutes. This guy’s squeezing you in, so you and Will have to shop fast.”
His fiancé looked confident as he flashed us a big smile. “Challenge accepted.”
Maybe five minutes later, Phoenix pulled up in front of a discount department store and took the flowers from me as he said, “I’ll keep these safe. Also, you went pretty goth with this bouquet, but I kind of like it. They look like you put some thought into them. Good luck shopping. Lorenzo and I will wait here, so we don’t slow you down.”
When we walked into the store through a pair of sliding doors, which were flanked with theft detectors, Will paused and did a quick scan. Then he led me to the men’s department and flipped through the longest rack of shirts I’d ever seen. “There’s a little of everything in these places, from trash to treasure,” he explained. “I’m focusing on finding quality fabrics, and we’ll do the best we can with the fit since there’s obviously no time for alterations.” He grabbed a black button-down shirt and thrust it at me while he continued to sort through the rack with his other hand. “Try this on over your T-shirt. I’m guessing at your size, and this’ll help me narrow it down.”
I awkwardly clutched my leather jacket between my knees because I didn’t know where else to put it, then did as he asked. The first shirt was too big, so we moved down about six feet and he started flipping through the rack again. The next shirt he produced actually fit pretty well, but then he handed me four more and insisted I try them all. Within minutes, he’d selected three shirts and began striding across the store. An oddly jumbled selection of housewares was dead ahead, but he hung a right when we reached the aisle. I asked, “Wouldn’t pants be back there in the men’s department?”
“We’re going with the jeans you’re already wearing and one of these button-downs,” he said, as we came to a stop at the perfume counter. A few men’s colognes were mixed in among the samples. He sniffed each one before pointing a blue bottle at me and spritzing it five times. He returned the bottle to the counter, and I coughed as he grabbed my hand and towed me toward the register. “I know that seems like too much cologne,” he said, “but you’re going to change your shirt and a lot of the scent will go with it.”
When we got in line at the register, I asked, “Why three shirts? I just need one for tonight.”
“You’re a handsome guy, Riley, but you hide it under baggy, worn out T-shirts and shaggy hair. Besides having something to wear tonight, these are meant to upgrade your wardrobe overall. Keep rocking the jeans, because they look great and fit well. The vintage leather jacket and black Converse sneakers are good too, because they show your style. But switching from the oversized tees to a nice button-down is going to make all the difference.”
“I’m not sure if I can afford three shirts right now, though.” The one price tag I could see was marked thirty-nine dollars.
“I’m buying these for you.” When I started to protest, he grinned and actually pressed his index finger to my lips to shut me up. “Don’t even think about arguing. Also, I’d love to take you shopping again when we have more time, because this is a lot of fun.”
I knew it was impossible to talk him out of anything, so I left it at, “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“No you don’t, and you’re welcome.”
He paid with a credit card when it was our turn at the register, and I winced when it came to over a hundred and twenty dollars. “I thought this place would be cheaper,” I said, once we’d checked out and were heading for the exit.
“There were definitely less expensive shirts on the rack, but the goal here wasn’t to spend the least amount possible. It was to buy stuff that looks good and is well-made. I would have taken you somewhere nicer, by the way, but this was the closest and fastest place I found when I searched online.”
“This is nice in my book. I’m usually a thrift shop kind of guy, not so much by choice, but out of necessity.”
He turned to me with a sympathetic expression when we reached the SUV. “I know what it’s like to worry about money. I grew up so poor that the church used to give my family care packages with hand-me-down clothes. That’s probably why I overcompensate now,” he said, as he touched the lapel of the obviously expensive light gray suit jacket he wore with a white button-down and dark gray jeans. “But I really believe the right clothes change us. They can give us confidence and make us carry ourselves differently. They also change the way people perceive us. Maybe that sounds shallow, but I think the way we present ourselves to the world matters.”
