Page 20 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Call me Brody.” I look to Miles for help. “Er, I don’t- I’m not sure.”

“I’m forcing him to start dating,” Miles says. “So casual outings all the way up to, like, eight-course meals.”

The gleam in Moira’s eyes is the most enthusiastic look I’ve ever seen. On anyone. Especially when looking at me.

“Free reign?” she asks, speaking mostly to Miles, though she keeps her gaze trained on me.

“I’d say floor it, but maybe just eighty percent,” he laughs.

“If I pull back twenty percent, will you let me style you for the next awards show?”

I always forget about the awards in the adult industry. Miles has gone to events for the last two years, but I never thought about people hiring stylists for it.

“Deal.”

The bell in the front of the store dings and Moira frowns.

“I don’t have anyone else scheduled until this afternoon.”

“That might be my sister,” I say. “Isla.”

Moira’s expression instantly returns to one of delight.

“Oh yay! Another woman’s opinion. She’ll still have better taste than that bozo.” She hooks her thumb at Miles who looks hurt.

“Bozo?” he repeats just as Luca leads a woman through the curtain.

She’s got the same brown hair, tan skin, and green eyes as me. Anyone would take one look at us and know we’re related by those features alone, but that’s where the similarities end. Where I’m a giant in any room, she’s barely five foot two and–without being offensive–she’s never been skinny. She does hit the gym, though, and it looks like she just came from a workout, standing there in her athletic shorts and tank top, hair in a messy bun.

“I’ve got it from here, Luca,” says Moira. He disappears and she smiles at my sister. “I’m Moira and you must be Isla.” She grins.

“Sadly, yes. I'm related to string bean over there.” Isla nods at me.

“Can I get you anything? Wine, champagne?”

“Oh, champagne!” Isla’s eyes light up with excitement as Moira disappears to get her drink.

“Glad you could make it, kiddo,” says Miles. Isla sits beside him on the couch and crosses one leg over the other.

“Have I missed anything?” she asks, looking between us.

“I just negotiated for Moira to take it a little easy on your brother,” says Miles. “It was practically a hostage exchange.” I roll my eyes.

Moira reappears with a glass of champagne as well as a bottle in a bucket of ice.

“Oh, I like her,” Isla laughs, thanking Moira for the glass before taking a sip.

“So, Brody,” says Moira, turning back to me, “I’m going to take some measurements first and then I’ll bring out some items that I think will look good for your skin tone and size. Some pants may be too short, sleeves too. You’re taller than most of my clients. But this is for looks first. I have in-house tailors who can ensure the clothes youdopurchase fit you perfectly. Any questions?”

“Is it too late to run?” It isn’t a joke, but the room fills with laughter anyway.

“Way too late,” says Miles. “You’ll live.”

Moira sets her tablet down with the screen unlocked and beckons me onto the platform.

“Shoes off,” she orders. I do as she says and step up. “Ok, just hold still and breathe,” she instructs. “This is going to get a little personal.”

Miles snorts behind me and I glare at him in the mirror. I know what this is going to entail and while I don’t enjoy the awkwardness, I don’t shy away from Moira’s touch. Even when she measures my inseam I remain still. After each measurement, she types the number into her tablet to keep track.

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