Good point.
Her phone vibrated. Text from Mattie.
(Mattie) Nev with you?
(Ronnie) Yes
(Mattie) Make her pick one for herself. I’m buying.
Ronnie held up two colorful suits, size tiny. “This is what he likes to spend his rugby money on, women and cars. What color is your old suit?”
“If you’re the woman, I’ll be the car. Light grey. You’ve seen it.”
“It wasn’t memorable.”
“Good thing I’m not a phone number.”
“You look good in mauve.”
“What do you think mauve is?” Nev showed Ronnie a color on her phone halfway between pink and grey. “That’s mauve.”
“Fine. You look good in green.”
“I don’t own anything green.”
Ronnie sighed, exasperated. “What color is that linen shirt you always wear? The long-sleeved one?”
“Pastel Aqua. You want me to find a suit the color of toothpaste?”
Nev only tried on one—Ronnie suspected it was the cheapest she could find in her size—a baby blue linen three-piece with a tag that said ‘wrinkle-proof, no ironing.’
Mattie arrived an hour late. Sales associates crowded around him for selfies. He signed autographs and flexed his muscles, flirting shamelessly with the staff.
Ronnie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
Stylish female sales associates laughed at everything he said while he posed in his boxers.
Mattie tried on candy-colored suits that looked expensive and tight on him. He was the same height as Ronnie, but stockier across the hips. His neck and wrists were thicker. Suits which had hugged Ronnie in all the right places would need to be tailored to fit him.
He worked the crowd, let them vote to help him decide. The staff chose a blue suit for him that was almost the same color as hers. A beautiful elderly woman—the owner—arrived and began hemming Mattie’s sleeves. Mattie chatted with the owner, in no rush to put clothes back on. One of the employees handed him a sweating tinny of beer.
“Thanks, sweetheart. This place is the best. You girls are lovely. Did you pick one?” he asked Ronnie. “Put it back on, give us a fashion show.”
“They want to go home.”
“Come on, Stinky!”
She went into one of the changing rooms and put on the cobalt suit. When she came out, Mattie catcalled and rubbed his hands together in the gesture for throwing dollars. “Damn, wehave good genes!” He fist-bumped her and they did the one-armed bro hug. “What do you think? Like it?”
“I picked it out, didn’t I?”
Mattie turned to the owner. “We’ll take it wrapped. She has a big day tomorrow. It’s her wedding.”
“Congratulations,” the owner of the shop said.
“He’s full of shite,” Ronnie said.
Mattie paid for all three suits. She overheard Nev remind him to leave a tip.
