Page 21 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

When she’s done, she disappears through the private door again, telling me she’ll be back with clothes to try on.

“Think she got swallowed up in the clothes?” asks Isla after about fifteen minutes.

“I’m sure there’s a lot to go through,” says Miles. He stands to bring me my bottle of water. “You good?”

He places a hand on my upper arm, looking up at me from the floor while I remain on the platform.

“Just want to get this over with,” I say with a tight grin.

Miles nods and rejoins Isla on the couch.

Moira finally reappears, propping open the door and rolling a rack of clothes out to us. My jaw drops when she turns the rack so I can see just how many items she pulled.

“I know,” she says, seeing my face. “I know, but you obviously won’t like all of these. You might not even like half. I just need a baseline to start.”

“So there’s more after this?”

Moira winces.

“Let’s get this party started!” Isla exclaims, raising her glass. “What’s first?”

“I’m never taking your advice again.” I leave Moira’s shop around noon with Miles and Isla in tow.

Most of the items Moira made me try on were simply so she could see the cut or color on me. In between each item or set of items, Moira would show me images of the real clothing she was picturing. Her shoppers would go out and get what was needed over the weekend, though some would have to be ordered and that would take time. We settled on a lot of items. In fact, I’m no longer sure how many I even agreed to. But I’m due back on Monday to try some of them on for final touches. Moira insisted that she would have several outfits for me by then, wanting to get me ready for the dating scene as soon as possible.

“Because it was expensive or because it was stressful?” asks Isla. She pats my back gently a few times.

“Yes.”

Miles snorts.

“I’m telling you, you needed it.” He walks ahead of my sister and me.

“Speaking of,” says Isla, grabbing my arm to bring me to a stop and turning my body toward her. Miles pauses and spins around. “Dating?”

“I signed him up for a site,” Miles offers, rocking back and forth on his feet. He looks like a kid proudly telling his parents about a perfect report card.

“There’s a spot in heaven for you,” says Isla.

“Not likely,” he mutters. Isla rolls her eyes. She knows about his job, but she has never judged.

“Whatever it takes to get you out of the house and out of those stupid Doctor Who shirts.” She lightly backhands the logo on my chest.

“Yesterday, it was Star Wars,” says Miles.

“I like what I like,” I shoot back, glaring at my friend.

“Like what you want, but can you maybe wear something that isn’t faded and falling apart?” Isla points at a hole on my shoulder just big enough for the nail of her pinky to fit through.

“That’sonehole,” I correct her. “Inoneshirt.”

“Uh, Brody?” Miles cocks his head, his eyes on my side.

I drag my hand over my face. They might be right. I could use a new wardrobe, but I’ll never fully admit that.

“I can buy new shirts.”

“You just did,” says Isla with a grin, turning to continue walking. “Let’s do lunch. Do you guys have time?”

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