AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Or because I’ll be doing it with Addison.
Fourteen
ADDISON
Phillip Loughton isthe worst thrift store shopper I have ever met. From the moment we walked into the store, he looked like he was ready to bolt. What’s so terrifying about a store that sells used clothes?
“You need a second set of clothes, Phillip. I don’t know how you’ve kept from stinking, but those need to get dry-cleaned. I have a trick for that, too. But your backup clothes don’t have to be perfect. You’re broke now, so you get to survive without seventeen suits that cost more than cars. You cannot survive, on the other hand, without a second set of clothes.”
He glares at me. “These are terrible quality, though. Look at them. The best coat in this whole place was probably bought at Men’s Wearhouse.”
“Well, Mr. Fancy Pants, you should be happy to get something from Men’s Wearhouse right now. You don’t get to be quite so choosy when your bed doubles as an eating surface.”
Phillip just sighs and starts combing through the racks. I could shop for myself as well, but it’s hard not to enjoy watching the man who had the world in the palm of his hand a week ago struggle to find a shirt.
He pulls one out, a ruby button-down that looks pretty good. He checks the tag and frowns before running his hands over the seams. Then he puts the shirt back on the rack, and I stop him.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.
“It has polyester in it. It has double-stitched seams instead of French seams. I’ve never heard of the brand. The bottom is probably going to be wrinkled forever, and there’s a stain down here.” He points at a slight discoloration along the bottom edge.
“Won’t that be covered up when you tuck it in?”
“But what’s it from, Addison?” He looks like he’s about to panic thinking about wearing it. “How do you get a stain there when it’s tucked in? That’s a definite no.”
He puts the shirt back on the rack, and I snatch it up. It’s a nice shirt other than the stain. “Here’s how you handle it,” I say as I go through the rest of the clothes, ignoring his protests. “You are broke, and this shirt is two dollars. We’ll wash it, but at least you’ll have something to wear. If we find a better one, then we can put this one back. This is how the peasants manage to buy clothesandfeed ourselves on that ‘pittance of a wage’. You said you wanted to find out what it was like to be normal, didn’t you?”
Phillip grumbles, but when I turn to him, my eyebrows arched, he slumps his shoulders and sighs. “You’re right. I signed up for this. I’ll just pretend that someone was eating risotto alla milanese at home.”
This time, it’s me who is confused, and I guess Phillip notices. “It’s a rice and bone broth soup with a lot of saffron,” he explains. “Saffron is notorious foryellowstains.” He glances at the ruby red shirt in my hands. “Like that one. Which is definitely a saffron stain. There is no chance at all that it could be anything else.”
I work really hard not to laugh when he keeps staring at it, probably repeating that mantra. I wish that I’d had someone picking out nice clothes like this when I was younger. Instead, I just ended up wearing the same worn-out clothes for years.
He smiles at me and says, “Okay. On to pants. And…” He cringes before saying the next word. “A tie.”
This time, the chuckle comes out no matter how hard I try to hold it back. “Just relax like Bruce Lee said. Be formless. Be shapeless. Like water.”
He arches an eyebrow. “So you’re a thrift store shopping, expert on being poor, junior editor who sleeps in strangers' beds and also happens to be a ninja?”
I pause for a second and shrug. “Pretty much. I also sing terrible karaoke if we’re just listing facts about me.”
“Noted. I guess we have two things in common then.”
I give Phillip a confused look. He grins and says, “I also slept with a stranger in a seedy motel not long ago. Luckily, my stranger was a lot prettier than yours.”
The laugh doesn’t need to be held back this time. He’s good at that. I was just joking before about the Bruce Lee thing, but he’s remarkably good at making a bad situation better. For a guy who’s probably never been in very many bad situations, he’s rolling with the punches pretty well.
I grab his hand and pull him away from the shirt racks. “Come on. Let’s get you some pants.”
He follows me, but he stops halfway there. “I’m glad we spent that night together.” The words are quiet, but it’s like the rest of the store has gone silent as I listen to him. “If we hadn’t, then I wouldn’t be here with you right now. I wouldn’t be laughing at your jokes, and I probably wouldn’t have even made that deal with my father. Instead, I’d be eating risotto alla milanese and getting saffron stains on my own shirt. This is better, and I don’t really know how to explain why.”
I smile at him, but I think he’s right. I’m annoyed at him interrupting the life I’m building, but it’s only because I know he won’t stick around. He’s the billionaire boss. He’s the heartless man that trims the fat at the office. He’s untouchable, and even if every moment we spend together makes me like him even more, he’ll be gone in three weeks. Back to his mansion. Back to his world, where bad things don’t happen.
And I’ll still be editing terrible books written by old men. I’ll still be shopping at thrift stores and paying my mom’s debts and wishing I could find the courage to publish a novel instead of just dreaming about it.
“Me too,” I say. “Don’t get me wrong, Phillip. I still won’t go on a date with you, but you know how to make me smile.”
Phillip’s lip curls up. “What do you think this is?”
