“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this place,” Gerard says for the fifty-seventh time since they walked through the doors. “How didn’t I know about this place?”
“Your personal shopper sucks?” Adam suggests. He holds a heavily feathered minidress up to the light, considering. Then he puts it back.
Gerard scoffs. “I don’t have a personal shopper.”
“Honey,” says Adam, with a pointed look at Gerard’s rapidly-disintegrating jeans. “You just barely have a personal.”
Gerard ignores him, and rifles through the rack until his hands land on something that feels like it’s made out of God’s inner-thigh skin, it’s so soft. He pulls it out and lays it on top of the rack, and runs his hands all the way down it from shoulders to hem.
“Oh, fuck me,” he moans.
Adam looks over and his eyes light up. “Oh my God, put it on this instant.”
Gerard’s denim jacket is already hitting the floor. He carefully removes the hanger from the new jacket (his new jacket, his, he’s going to buy it even if he has to sell himself on the street outside) and slides in first one arm, then the other, before shrugging it into place on his shoulders.
“Oh, fuck me.” Gerard hugs himself, then does it again because it feels so fucking good – he’s just barely restraining himself from rolling around on the floor, he is never taking this jacket off again. “Oh my God. Oh, my God, this is the best day of my life.”
“I’m going to tell your daughter you said that, as soon as she’s old enough to understand emotional scarring.” Adam moves towards him and does – something, shifts the jacket around on Gerard’s shoulders and plucks at Gerard’s T-shirt underneath.
“Tell her, I don’t care.” Gerard moves in front of the nearest mirror and nearly has an orgasm all over his reflection. “She’ll probably want to borrow it when she’s older. I’m making an investment in her future.”
Behind him, Adam taps his fingers against his mouth. “Those jeans really aren’t worthy of it, though.”
Gerard clicks his tongue and strokes his new jacket some more. “Whatever, dude, yours don’t even have holes in and they still show off more than mine.”
Adam flashes him a grin and wiggles around in a little dance. “And thus the basis of their appeal!”
Gerard stares at his reflection some more. He can’t stop touching himself. Not like that. Well, maybe a little like that. It’s a really nice jacket. “Adam,” he says drunkenly, looking over to where Adam is examining the seam on a pair of silver pants. “Adam, I really love jackets.”
“Me too,” Adam says enthusiastically. He holds up something long and snakeskin. “How do you feel about chaps?”
“I feel great about everything right now.”
“Excellent.” Adam disappears into the changing room. After a minute he calls, “These are definitely an investment in the future, too. Somebody’s very, very lucky future.”
“Not my daughter’s, though,” Gerard says, just to make sure. “There are no snakeskin chaps in my daughter’s future.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mister Dad.”
Gerard winces and looks back at his reflection. The jacket makes him feel better. The jacket makes everything in the world better. The jacket could end war and hunger and poverty, he’s pretty sure, if the right person would just give it a chance. Gerard is that person. Gerard is that person.
“I’m getting this,” he calls.
“Well, I should think so,” Adam says, clearly horrified that Gerard even felt the need to clarify. He reappears, snakeskin chaps slung over one arm. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” Gerard agrees, and follows Adam to the cash register, credit card in hand, ready to make the world a better place.