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Martinez, crushed among them, his stomach slightly upset, his face feeling feverish, sm
iled so wildly at Leo that Leo let go the telephone.
‘Hey,’ breathed Martinez, eyes wide. ‘There’s a great suit, over there!’
‘No.’ Manulo touched a lapel. ‘This one!’
‘There is only one suit in all the world!’ said Gomez, coldly. ‘Mr Shumway, the ice-cream white, size thirty-four, was in your window just an hour ago! It’s gone! You didn’t –’
‘Sell it?’ Mr Shumway exhaled. ‘No, no. In the dressing-room. It’s still on the dummy.’
Martinez did not know if he moved and moved the crowd or if the crowd moved and moved him. Suddenly they were all in motion. Mr Shumway, running, tried to keep ahead of them.
‘This way, gents. Now which of you …?’
‘All for one, one for all!’ Martinez heard himself say, and laughed wildly. ‘We’ll all try it on!’
‘All?’ Mr Shumway clutched at the booth curtain as if his shop were a steamship that had suddenly tilted in a great swell. He stared.
That’s it, thought Martinez, look at our smiles. Now, look at the skeletons behind our smiles! Measure here, there, up, down, yes, do you see?
Mr Shumway saw. He nodded. He shrugged.
‘All!’ He jerked the curtain. ‘There! Buy it, and I’ll throw in the dummy, free!’
Martinez peered quietly into the booth, his motion drawing the others to peer, too.
The suit was there.
And it was white.
Martinez could not breathe. He did not want to. He did not need to. He was afraid his breath would melt the suit. It was enough, just looking.
But at last he took a great trembling breath and exhaled, whispering, ‘Ay. Ay, caramba!’
‘It puts out my eyes,’ murmured Gomez.
‘Mr Shumway.’ Martinez heard Leo hissing. ‘Ain’t it dangerous precedent, to sell it? I mean, what if everybody bought one suit for six people?’
‘Leo,’ said Mr Shumway, ‘you ever hear one single fifty-nine-dollar suit make so many people happy at the same time before?’
‘Angels’ wings,’ murmured Martinez. ‘The wings of white angels.’
Martinez felt Mr Shumway peering over his shoulder into the booth. The pale glow filled his eyes.
‘You know something, Leo?’ he said, in awe. ‘That’s a suit !’
Gomez, shouting, whistling, ran up to the third-floor landing and turned to wave to the others who staggered, laughed, stopped, and had to sit down on the steps below.
‘Tonight!’ cried Gomez. ‘Tonight you move in with me, eh? Save rent as well as clothes, eh? Sure! Martinez, you got the suit?’
‘Have I?’ Martinez lifted the white gift-wrapped box high. ‘From us to us! Ay-hah!’
‘Vamenos, you got the dummy?’
‘Here!’
Vamenos, chewing an old cigar, scattering sparks, slipped. The dummy, falling, toppled, turned over twice, and banged down the stairs.
