Knight didn’t give a shit that he parked between an Audi and a Beamer, but God help either one of them if they knocked over his bike.
He opened the door to Brooks Brothers, and was assaulted by soft classical music. Dressed in his usual biker jacket, wifebeater, leather pants and biker boots, long blond hair to his shoulders, he knew he was unbelievably out of place.
“Can I help you, sir?” said a man.
Knight whirled, spoiling for a fight. If they were going to treat him like shit, he was going to give it right back to these snobs. Instead, the man who looked at him was dressed in a suit, his chestnut brown hair combed conservatively back. He was shorter than Knight, coming to about his shoulders, and his blue eyes were bright and warm. He smiled, a genuine smile, and had his hands behind his back, looking subservient and helpful.
Knight was disarmed. “Ah…uh…I was tol’ t’ come here.” He held up the Brooks Brothers gift card Malcolm had given to him for his birthday.
“Ah, I see, sir. And what’s the occasion?”
“Goin’ to some Masa Teryaki place in New York.”
“Oh, Masa, yes. Daytime or evening?” He started walking toward the back of the store.
“Night, I guess. If I know Mal, he’s gonna wanna go at night.”
“Let’s see. The Gatsby collection is what’s in right now, Roaring 20’s style, but I don’t know if you would pull that off. It would make you look more like a gangster, if you don’t mind my saying so.” He stood in front of a three-way mirror. “Mind if you take off your jacket, sir? Let me measure you?”
Knight took off the jacket and let the man measure him. When he measured his inseam and waist, the man got on one knee, and Knight looked down – “Don’t bend down, sir.”
“Knight,” he said, straightening up and looking at the mirror. “Tha’s my name. If y’r gonna be playin’ ‘roun’ near my balls, y’ should at least know my name.”
The man chuckled, and Knight liked him right then and there. “Mr. Knight, then.” He stood up. “I think a Milano fit would be perfect for you. It will accent your shoulders and chest, tapering to your waist and flaring out at the hips to make you not look top-heavy.”
Knight looked helpless. “Whatever y’ say.”
The man patted Knight’s arm. “Trust me. Now, let’s start with the jacket. We’ll have to alter everything, of course…”
For two hours, Knight toured the store with the man – who he found out was named Joseph – finding a jacket, pants, shoes, a crisp white shirt, a steel-gray tie – Knight nixed the bow tie with a simple glare – and shoes that Knight hated right away. But they matched, so he shut up and stumbled around the store. Joseph said that he could widen them for him and it didn’t help that he had thick socks.
“You gonna tell me I gotta wear linen briefs next?” Knight said, testily.
“Cotton should be fine, Mr. Knight.”
Knight snorted a laugh. Since the suits were on sale, Knight got talked into getting a second suit, this one in gray. Just for kicks, and to humor Joseph, Knight wore one of the linen suits from the Gatsby collection. He tied his hair up, slicked it back, and posed in the mirror. When Knight looked back at Joseph in the mirror, he could see a look of pure adoration and awe. Then it hit Knight, why this man was so attentive.
Knight said quietly, “Got a stockroom with a lock on’t?”