(eng) Martha Carr & Michael Anderle - Leira Chronicles 01 by Waking Magic

Author:Waking Magic [Magic, Waking]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The black bespoke tuxedo was costing Bill Somers a month’s salary but it would be worth it. All the local press would be at the university’s centennial celebration and stories would be posted online.

When everyone saw what he could do, there would be pictures. He wanted to look good.

“You only need a deposit today, right?” he asked nervously, running his hand down the expensive wool, smudging a chalk mark. The tailor gently pulled his hand away.

Never bat at a paying customer.

“Professor Flanagan sent me,” he said, remembering what his friend Professor Randolph had told him to say. The tailor owed Flanagan a favor and was known to give discounts to friends of friends.

“You’ll have this ready by the weekend? Seems like a lot of work,” he said, admiring himself in the mirror. He couldn’t remember ever looking this good.

The tailor was deftly pinning the hems of the pants and nodded his head without looking up at Somers.

“This will change everything,” Somers said in a hushed voice. “No one will ever doubt me again.”

“The single-breast gives a man some authority,” said the elderly tailor, in heavily accented English. Somers was sure it was German, or maybe Viennese. It added to the experience.

“Slims you down,” the tailor smiled. He was pulling pins from a black pincushion attached to his wrist, steadily moving around the suit and adjusting the fit. “No bow tie. Go with a nice silk tie. Lets them know you’re not a child and you’re not retiring. Old men and little boys. They should wear bow ties.”

“And a good white shirt,” said Somers, smiling nervously at his reflection.

“Perfect,” said the tailor. “You will get all of the attention.”

“You have no idea,” he replied. “Are you done yet? I have to be somewhere.”

“Done,” the tailor said with finality, smiling and holding out his arms as if he was conducting an orchestra. Somers liked being treated as if he was worth all this trouble.

It had never happened to him before despite his best efforts.

“Let me help you out of the jacket,” said the tailor, easing the jacket off Somers’ shoulders. “Wouldn’t want the pins to shift.”

Somers went back to the small changing room and pulled the heavy blue velvet curtain shut. He looked down at his jeans and t-shirt and felt embarrassed to put them back on and march past everyone. Today’s t-shirt had a picture of a wanted poster featuring a cat that read, ‘Wanted Dead and Alive, Schrodinger’s Cat.’ A puffy green coat completed the ensemble.

He was sorry he didn’t think about what he was wearing a little longer this morning.

“You have the pants off?” asked the assistant who had shown him to the dressing room. A hand appeared through the curtain, hand open, waiting to receive the pants.

“One, one second,” he stuttered, sliding the pants off. One of the pins in the hem caught on his sock and he found himself hopping over to the bench and plopping down next to his clothes. The wooden bench felt cold against the back of his legs.

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