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“That’s it? Two tuxes?” Seemed a little light.
“You must also make dresses for the bride wenches.”
Bride wenches?Someone needed to hit the ESL classes. “When is the wedding?”
“One month.”
That would be tight.
“Do they all live in LA? Because I’d need to do fittings.”
“Miami.”
Damien rubbed his chin. That was nowhere near his shop. But at this point, he couldn’t guard Sky and her family on his own, and the gods had a noose around Bonbon’s neck. He had to keep moving forward, looking for answers about the blast.
“Deal. I’ll be out there next week to take measurements. I’ll send the garments overnight once they’re done. If anything needs adjusting—”
“Next week perfect. You come to pre-wedding banquet, dah? My personalploozone.”
Plus one?Pluses were for friends or dates. And Damien knew Boris was all about “zi poozy.” He spoke incessantly about how much of it he got during their poker games.
So, he thinks we’re friends?
Boris continued, “I tell everybody about zi great tailor Damien Greystone. They always compliment me on my shirts. I look ten pounds lighter when I wear them.”
Damien mentally grunted. Boris was trying to help him get new clients? He did not want to insult the man, but Damien didn’t need more clients. He needed security for Sky and her family. Also, Damien had rules about friendship. Rules that kept others safe. Friends, lovers, one-night stands, they were all off-limits.
But I can’t say no.“I would love to attend the dinner next week.”
“Good. We have deal.”
“Thank you, Boris. I will text the details about my client. Hopefully, the job won’t last more than a day or two.” Damien planned to find these people, including the governor’s brother, and send them a message. Politely, of course, since he wasn’t a fixer anymore. He did not threaten, break thumbs, bust kneecaps, or cap asses. He sewed nice garments.
They ended the call, and Damien got into his SUV, starting the engine. He set his GPS for the mall. With any luck, he’d make it just before closing. He still needed to find that sex fairy, and the best place to start was the security video.
CHAPTER SIX
“Sorry, Mr. Greystone, but the police confiscated the footage from that day.” The middle-aged, bald security guard, wearing a khaki uniform three sizes too small, offered Damien a consoling look. “But between you and me, I saw the tape. There wasn’t anything on it.”
Damien tried not to stare at the buttons about to pop from the shirt. He really wanted to fix them. “You saw nothing unusual at all?”
“The angle just outside the fitting room showed a moth under one of the lights, but that was it. A moth. I even slowed the footage.” He lowered his voice. “I think the woman was on something. And now, every kook in the country is camping outside our store.”
That moth could actually be the fairy. They moved quite fast, which might result in a blurry effect. “Did you get a picture of the moth?”
“Sorry?”
“This moth. Perhaps if I showed it to the woman—for her therapy—she’d see it was nothing more than a harmless insect,” he lied.
The security guard frowned. “No. I didn’t get a photo.”
Damien thought not. His next step would be to ask the police if they would allow him a look at the footage. A long shot, but worth a try.
“Hey, if you really want to see the tape,” said the guard, “someone leaked it. It’s all over the internet.”
Why hadn’t he thought of that? Likely because he was centuries old, and using technology was generally an afterthought. “Thank you.”
Damien left the mall and went for his SUV. It took only a moment to pull up the video on his phone. Apparently, it had gone viral, and people were making a fuss over it. The video with the most hits was entitled:Fairy tale or moth myth?
