Bespoke by Megan McFerren

Author:Megan McFerren [Prozorova, Megan McFerren; Val]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay, Contemporary, Romance
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2016-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

chapter four

Ethan decides to go in late, and that's only after he reconciles himself to going into the shop at all. Waking up in a pile of warm dogs, in his narrow little bed, he's hard-pressed to return to the work he put off all weekend. He'll need to rework the books for the month to see if he can make rent after spending so fucking much for nothing in return.

The thought is enough to make him pull his pillow over his head and lay motionless and unhappy for another half hour.

When he finally drags himself up, it's because the dogs need a walk and he needs coffee. He sets the latter to brew and performs the former, relishing the crisp snap of autumn in the air and the whisper of leaves against the sidewalk. When he returns to the apartment, he dresses himself in an untucked button-down, tan trousers and suspenders. He hardly looks the part of a bespoke suit-maker.

In truth, clutching his thermos as he leaves for the shop, he hardly fucking feels like one. Not after being berated, despite how readily he fought back. Not after being humiliated, and having one of his greatest works treated like ready-made shit. Ethan's never felt angry for jerking off before, but there's a first time for everything.

As his boots thump against the cement, Ethan wonders what would happen if he stopped taking new clients altogether. He could finish up the work he's got, collect on his payments, and get enough to live on for a long time for selling the shop's location. He could travel. He could move somewhere cheap and quiet where the dogs will have room to play.

His father––his grandfather for that matter, who built the fucking shop––they're no doubt rolling in their graves at the consideration. Ethan lets the steam fog his glasses as he sips his coffee, free hand stuffed into his pocket.

The shop is much the same when he opens it as it had been the night before when he had locked it up. He waits for a moment, back against the door, and regards the space as though for the first time. He discards, for now, the memories of being a little kid here, playing with the fabrics, turning the handle on his grandfather's sewing machine to watch the needle go up and down. He discards that and looks at the space as a customer would, as someone would who has never seen it before.

It looks like a place out of time, with its cash register and curtained back room and heavy vintage mirrors. It looks old. It feels tired.

Ethan rubs his eyes and walks further into the space. Switching on the lights as he goes, he sets his thermos on the low stool where it is reflected by three mirrors. He makes his way to the back room and hooks back one of the heavy curtains to be able to see the door should anyone walk in today.

He should make a fucking sign or something.

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