Page 76 of Spades

I swallow, adjusting myself under my pants discreetly. “Mr. Liddell. Good to see you again.”

“Maddox, always a pleasure.”

“What can I help you with today?”

“I’m doing a stint as a guest lecturer at UChicago starting next week. I was hoping to find something professorial.”

I nod. “Nothing screams ‘professor’ quite like tweed.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He picks up a jacket in a pattern of brown and maroon houndstooth, examining the label on the interior of the collar. “Do you have this in a forty-four long?” He pats his belly. “The holidays, you know.”

“I’ll check in the back,” I say.

I’m internally rolling my eyes. I don’t have any extra inventory in the back, unless it’s a delivery that I haven’t put out into the store yet. But to access the back of the store, I have to go behind the counter, and it’s a good chance to check on Alissa.

I walk behind the register, where she’s lying in a fetal position, still naked as the day she was born. “You doing okay?” I whisper.

She nods. “I’ve never found myself in this situation.”

“Mr. Liddell is efficient. He’ll be out in a few moments.”

I head to the back for a moment and then return.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Liddell. Nothing in that size in the back.”

“I’d a feeling that would be the case. But I found this piece in my size.” He holds up a tan herringbone blazer with dark-brown elbow patches. “A good second choice.”

“That’s a great style.” I gesture to the register. “Is there anything else, or would you like to ring it up?”

“Just this,” Mr. Liddell says, but then he casts his gaze over to the display of neckties. “Wait.”

He walks over and glances down, picking up the belt—my belt, made of brown leather with a crosshatch pattern—that Alissa whipped off my waist.

“This must have fallen off a display.” He examines the belt. “I’ve been in the market for a new brown belt. And I love this pattern. But no price tag. How much?”

I want to tell Mr. Liddell that the belt isn’t for sale, but then I’d have to come up with a reason for why it was on the floor by the ties.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you have it for another twenty if you check out right now.”

Mr. Liddell’s eyes light up. “You’ve got yourself a deal there, son.” He places my belt and the herringbone blazer on the counter.

Thank God. My cock needs to get back to Alissa stat.

I walk behind the register—Alissa scoots out of my way—and ring him up. “The total will come to a little over two hundred seventy after tax.”

“Tell you what,” Mr. Liddell says. “I might be able to cover that in cash today. I have a few hundreds burning a hole through my wallet.”

Fuck. A credit card would be faster.

Mr. Liddell slowly reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. It’s stuffed to the brim, and he’s leafing through the bills at a snail’s pace.

Alissa is caressing my ankle. Damn. Mr. Liddell hands me two hundreds and a fifty. “How much extra for tax?”

I ring him up. “Total is two seventy-two and five cents.”

His slides more bills out of his wallet as his eyes light up. “I might just have that nickel.”

Christ. The one time he decides to pay in cash is the time that Alissa is naked on the floor in front of me.

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