paperbacks in ceiling-high bookcases, and what looked like some old comic books and for sure some Big Little Books in locked showcases similar to those in Planner’s shop. He ran across such shops every now and then, and they were invariably closed. He sighed, shrugged, and went on into the costume shop.
The interior was spare but not seedy, with a counter and a waiting room area, similar to a laundry. An attractive if hard-looking woman of thirty or so was behind the counter, with coal-black hair, a beauty mark to the left of a red-painted mouth, and braless bouncing breasts under a satinlike yellow blouse. She looked as though she was preparing to audition for a local production of Carmen .
“Hi, honey,” she said casually, and Jon looked around to make sure she was talking to him.
She was, so he said hi himself, and did his best to return her suggestive smile. Maybe the woman did look sort of cheap and whorish, but she was also sexy-looking, in a second-rate men’s magazine way.
“What can I do you for?” she said. She was chewing gum. Not blatantly, though—not a cow chewing cud—but playing with it in her mouth, playing with it with her tongue.
“Uh, I’d like to see Mr. Blosser.”
“Not here.”
“Oh. You expect him soon?”
“Nope. Won’t be back today.”
“Well, uh, I was supposed to pick up a package for a friend of his. A Mr. Nolan?”
“Oh, sure. Your name must be Jon.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“I’m Connie. The boss’s daughter, in case you was wondering.”
“Oh. Yeah, well, I’m pleased to meet you, Connie.”
“I’m sure. How is Nolan these days?”
“Fine. Fine. I didn’t know you knew Nolan.”
She grinned. She really was a good-looking woman, cheap or hard or not. “I know him. You ask him if I know him or not.” She laughed and her breasts jiggled.
Jon swallowed. “Okay, I’ll tell him you said hello.”
She reached under the counter and flopped two large white string-tied suit-type boxes up in front of her. “Here. This one is yours. It’s a small. You better try it on.” She motioned him behind the counter, and he followed her through a narrow hallway to some dressing cubicles in the rear of the store. She handed him the box marked “Small” and left, pulling the cubicle’s curtain shut on him.
He opened the box.
There was something red in it.
Red and partly white. Trimmed in white.
The red was a cheap but plush-looking velvetlike material; the white was fluffy stuff—cotton, he guessed. There was also red gloves of the same material, trimmed in the same white fluff.
It looked like a Santa Claus costume.
He took it out of the box.
It was a Santa Claus costume.
He put it back in the box and went back out front, quickly, leaving the costume behind.
“That was quick,” the woman said. “Fit okay, does it?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know . . . I didn’t try it on.”
“How come?”
“Well, there has to be some mistake.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, it’s a . . . would you come with me a minute?”
He took her back to the dressing cubicle and showed her.
“Yeah,” she said. “A Santa Claus costume. So?”
“This is what is supposed to be in this box?”
“Sure.”
“What’s in the other box?”
“Another Santa Claus costume. That’s a total of two. One small, the other’s large.”
“And that’s what Nolan wanted me to pick up for him?”
“Shit, yes. Didn’t he tell you?”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t tell me much of anything.”
“Yeah, that’s Nolan, all right Listen . . . you need any help getting into that, honey, just give Connie a call, you hear?” She winked and chewed her gum seductively and left him there with a hard on and a Santa Claus suit.
It fit fine. He looked at himself in the cubicle’s shadowy mirror, and damned if the world’s shortest, most clean-shaven Santa Claus wasn’t staring him in the face. He asked Connie about the lack of a beard, after getting back into his street
The interior was spare but not seedy, with a counter and a waiting room area, similar to a laundry. An attractive if hard-looking woman of thirty or so was behind the counter, with coal-black hair, a beauty mark to the left of a red-painted mouth, and braless bouncing breasts under a satinlike yellow blouse. She looked as though she was preparing to audition for a local production of Carmen .
“Hi, honey,” she said casually, and Jon looked around to make sure she was talking to him.
She was, so he said hi himself, and did his best to return her suggestive smile. Maybe the woman did look sort of cheap and whorish, but she was also sexy-looking, in a second-rate men’s magazine way.
“What can I do you for?” she said. She was chewing gum. Not blatantly, though—not a cow chewing cud—but playing with it in her mouth, playing with it with her tongue.
“Uh, I’d like to see Mr. Blosser.”
“Not here.”
“Oh. You expect him soon?”
“Nope. Won’t be back today.”
“Well, uh, I was supposed to pick up a package for a friend of his. A Mr. Nolan?”
“Oh, sure. Your name must be Jon.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“I’m Connie. The boss’s daughter, in case you was wondering.”
“Oh. Yeah, well, I’m pleased to meet you, Connie.”
“I’m sure. How is Nolan these days?”
“Fine. Fine. I didn’t know you knew Nolan.”
She grinned. She really was a good-looking woman, cheap or hard or not. “I know him. You ask him if I know him or not.” She laughed and her breasts jiggled.
Jon swallowed. “Okay, I’ll tell him you said hello.”
She reached under the counter and flopped two large white string-tied suit-type boxes up in front of her. “Here. This one is yours. It’s a small. You better try it on.” She motioned him behind the counter, and he followed her through a narrow hallway to some dressing cubicles in the rear of the store. She handed him the box marked “Small” and left, pulling the cubicle’s curtain shut on him.
He opened the box.
There was something red in it.
Red and partly white. Trimmed in white.
The red was a cheap but plush-looking velvetlike material; the white was fluffy stuff—cotton, he guessed. There was also red gloves of the same material, trimmed in the same white fluff.
It looked like a Santa Claus costume.
He took it out of the box.
It was a Santa Claus costume.
He put it back in the box and went back out front, quickly, leaving the costume behind.
“That was quick,” the woman said. “Fit okay, does it?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know . . . I didn’t try it on.”
“How come?”
“Well, there has to be some mistake.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, it’s a . . . would you come with me a minute?”
He took her back to the dressing cubicle and showed her.
“Yeah,” she said. “A Santa Claus costume. So?”
“This is what is supposed to be in this box?”
“Sure.”
“What’s in the other box?”
“Another Santa Claus costume. That’s a total of two. One small, the other’s large.”
“And that’s what Nolan wanted me to pick up for him?”
“Shit, yes. Didn’t he tell you?”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t tell me much of anything.”
“Yeah, that’s Nolan, all right Listen . . . you need any help getting into that, honey, just give Connie a call, you hear?” She winked and chewed her gum seductively and left him there with a hard on and a Santa Claus suit.
It fit fine. He looked at himself in the cubicle’s shadowy mirror, and damned if the world’s shortest, most clean-shaven Santa Claus wasn’t staring him in the face. He asked Connie about the lack of a beard, after getting back into his street
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