With the party planning well underway and in his mother’s competent hands Linc got back to what he loved most, writing. The book was going well and he figured barring necessary interruptions he might have it finished and ready to sent to his publisher by the end of the month, which was his deadline.
Then, two days before the party, Damian and Giorgio reappeared. They had been blessedly absent up until now, much to Linc’s relief.
Giorgio immediately, without asking, went to rifle through Linc’s closet. “No, no, absolutely not, oh my god this is dreadful.” He turned to look at Linc. “When was the last time you went clothes shopping? When the dinosaurs ruled?”
“There is nothing wrong with my clothes,” Linc protested. “They’re…comfortable, and that’s what counts.”
“For a recluse holed up in a dark cave, maybe,” Giorgio snorted out. “Okay, we have shopping to do.”
Damian cocked an eyebrow. “Just how are ‘we’ going to go shopping with him.”
Rather than reply directly Giorgio asked Linc, “Do you have a credit card?”
“Of course, who doesn’t?”
“Me for one,” Giorgio grumbled. “I had a one but gee, somehow it seems to have expired. Wonder why.”
“You’re getting old and senile and forgot to re-up it?” Linc asked with a straight face.
“I’ll have you know I’m only twenty-six which is not that much older than you.”
“And into the whole retro thing from the look of your clothes. You’re the one who needs to go shopping, not me.”
“Unfortunately,” Damian put in, “what we died in is what we’re stuck with.”
“Whoa, that sucks. So if I died right now..?”
“You’d spend the afterlife in too-short cut-offs and a…what the hell is that anyway?” Giorgio looked at Linc’s T-shirt.
“It’s the Tardis. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”
“Looks like a phone booth,” Damian commented.
Linc rolled his eyes. “Where have you been? Don’t you watch television? Dr. Who?”
“Who’s on first, What’s on second…” Giorgio said, grinning.
“I Don’t Know’s on third,” Linc finished with a laugh. “But the wrong ‘Who’.”
Damian shook his head. “We’ve got better things to do than watch the boob-tube as someone called it.”
“Such as harassing poor humans like me,” Linc muttered.
“You bet.” Giorgio grinned. “So get out the card, Linc, you’re going shopping as soon as we tell you what to buy.”
“Just how are you..? Oh.” Linc sighed when Giorgio pointed to the computer. Reluctantly he saved his file, closed it and logged onto the internet. “WalMart?” he asked.
“Not even. There have to be decent men’s shops close enough to drive to.”
“If there are, Giorgio, I have no idea where.”
Giorgio looked back at the closet for a second and snorted. “I can tell. So do what you have to to find one.”
Fifteen minutes later Linc had a shopping list of sorts. Giorgio, who seemed to be the fashion expert of the pair, had insisted Linc get some tight jeans for starters. He really wanted him to get leather pants but Linc had put his foot down on that.
“Where the hell would I wear them?” he asked.
Giorgio looked at Linc as if he was dense. “To a club, obviously. When you meet the man of your dreams you’re going to want to take him to one.”
Linc just shook his head. “Even if, and it’s not likely, someone interesting comes to the party, he’s for sure not going to want to go out with me. Besides, I don’t dance.”
Giorgio looked at him in shock. “You don’t dance?”
“Not a lick.”
“Where the hell have you been all your life? In a monastery?”
“Nope. In college then in a relationship that turned out sucky and then here.”
“And it all that time you never once went clubbing. Un-fucking-believable.”
“Now, now, Giorgio, not everyone’s into living the way you did,” Damian said, patting his shoulder. “Sex, drugs and rock and roll.”
Giorgio got a dreamy look in his eyes for a moment. “Hendrix, Joplin, ah the good old days.” He shook his head. “But enough of that, back to clothes. I’ll let you pass on the leathers. Now for shirts.”
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