HI!! HELLO!! Welcome to Chapter 14. Church needs a new wardrobe. This chapter is about the adventure he goes on to get it. It's also about him exploring a bit and playing around with his magic. The next chapter will pick up on Church's purpose in this strange world and Shawn's deep seated fear of him. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
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14
A Tall Zebra
I chuckled my way down the street with my black bag swinging at my side and reviewed the statistics of the strange morning. One breakfast, one-hundred-thousand credits, three propositions, two turndowns...and one haircut. I walked a block and a half to the tailor shop.
Anticuus Men's' the block-letter sign read. I knew that meant Classic Men's.' My Shawn reference book told me that while English was the main language the world over, traditional Latin was preferred for formal names on Solum. That explained names like Anticuus Men's on the shop I stood in front of. It was a two-story blue stone building, and the shop appeared to take up both floors. I paused to admire my new haircut in the glass panel that made up the center of the shop door. It was strange seeing myself with that much hair, but no stranger than the other stuff I'd been through since my arrival on Solum. I shrugged to myself, opened the white door, and went in.
A bell chimed as I passed through the door and shut it behind me. A yellow-suited clerk standing at a white podium raised a bored face to me. He raked me with a disinterested glance and made an accurate assumption of what I was there for. "Custom?" He asked in a bright, effeminate voice. I nodded. "Upstairs." He pointed to a staircase at the far end of the shop. I followed the direction he pointed and waded through racks of intensely colored clothing, and a couple of equally colorful browsers, to the stairs.
The second floor was a large, bare room. A light panel ceiling shown on white walls and a plain black floor. A tall, voluptuous woman in her early-thirties wearing a burgundy one-piece body suit that left nothing to the imagination, leaned against the front wall, looking out the top half of an un-curtained window. Her arms were crossed under pendulous breasts. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, making her entire lower half, from her child-bearing hips to her dainty feet, an exaggerated heart shape. She had a lot of red hair that piled up on her head and billowed out toward her shoulders. Next to her was a red hat rack. Next to that, waiting on the deep window sill, was a black glass tablet and a rolled-up flexible measuring tape.
Either my heavy footsteps or my labored breathing drew her attention but not her gaze. "Custom?" She asked at the end of a sigh.
"Yes."
"Very well." A languid movement straightened her from the wall. She gathered the objects from the window sill and approached me. She looked me up and down, then walked around me slowly, with disdain twisting her full, round features. "Did you pick these atrocious clothes?" She asked without bothering to dampen her contempt for my outfit.
"No."
"Good, I thought I was dealing with a masochist. Take them off this instant. Don't even hang them up. You will not leave with them. I will see that they are properly disposed of." Her voice was deep to the point of being masculine and very demanding.
I dropped my Vis-Vit bag near the head of the stairs, kicked my heels off, removed my shirt, and my pants, and dumped everything in a pile on the floor. I tucked my wallet into the waistband of my briefs. The woman moved to the head of the stairs, giving the pile of clothes a wide berth, and called down in commanding sing-song. "Attie, our biggest robe and a folding chair. Now."
She let the tablet and tape drop from her hands, but they didn't fall. The tape started to measure me on its own while the tablet and stylus recorded what the tape measured. The woman circled me several more times, her arms crossed under her breasts.
The clerk from downstairs, `Attie' I assumed, came up with a white folding chair and a white robe. The chair he set up near the window, the robe he hung on the hat rack. My discarded clothes floated into his now-free hands. "You may take those away." The red-head said without looking at Attie or the clothes. He took them and retreated without a word or a glance to either of us.
"We need to tone you down." The woman said as she circled me yet again. "You are entirely too big. The haircut is a good start. Vis-Vit does excellent work."
I was amazed that she could tell where the haircut came from. I was amazed until much later when I realized she'd seen the bag I was carrying.
She was behind me when she started to outline her thoughts. Her soft, long-fingered hands gripped my shoulders. "We will cling to these and stay close to this strong back." Her hands traced down to my waist. "Dished wedge heels, flats that look like heels."
She pulled her hands back and moved to my left side to see my profile. "Flats won't do anything for this." Her hand whipped out and slapped my ass hard enough to sting. "But it doesn't need much help."
Her other hand patted my bloated stomach. "We shall do our best with this as well."
She moved in front of me, her arms crossed under her breasts again. "Will you put yourself entirely in my hands?"
"Yes." I answered without hesitation and felt a little like I was making a pact with a witch. I didn't have much choice in the matter. I was certain nothing on the racks downstairs was large enough for me and I had no sense of fashion on any world. If I wanted to try to blend in, I needed her.
"How many sets of clothes would you like?"
"Enough for two-weeks to start." I answered.
"Budget?" She asked and sounded very much like the word gagged her.
I had to consider that for a moment. My food and lodging were covered at the hotel. I had nothing else to spend my money on, and a hundred grand to burn. I also didn't know how much longer I was going to live. I gave her an answer I hoped she would like. "I don't want to spend more than one thousand..." a scowl bloomed on her face like I'd wasted her time until I finished my statement, "...per outfit...and, no more than twenty-five hundred on something formal." Blowing that much money would put a sizable dent in my allowance, but I didn't know what else I had to spend money on and assumed that, as I was there to save the world, so they said anyway, if I burned through the hundred grand, I'd get them to give me some more.
The woman's ripe lips stretched from an unhappy, pursed frown to a broad, seductive smile. She held her hand out for me to shake. "Rubicundus," she practically purred, "call me Rubi. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Church." I offered, without bothering with my last name, the real one or my alias.
"Church." She drew her hand back and crossed her arms again. I wondered if she found her breasts too heavy and needed to constantly support them. "Please...I have what I need." She nodded toward the chair and hat rack. "The robe is for you. Be comfortable while I make the selections. I will need one hour to outfit you to be seen in public. The rest of the clothes I will send to...?" She inclined her head in a question.
"The Capital Hotel, room 428." I said and shrugged into their biggest robe, that was still far too small, and sat on the folding chair.
"Can I offer you refreshment, Church?" She asked, her voice full of sacchariny sweetness. It seemed her hospitality knew no bounds since she found out I was prepared to drop a pile of money.
"I wouldn't say no to coffee."
"Attie..." she called from the top of the stairs, "cup..."
"Rubi," I interrupted, "would you make it a pot please? Black."
"Pot," Rubi corrected her commanding sing-song, "of black coffee for our guest. Now."
She spun toward me, treating me to all angles of her impressive feminine body. If I was even a little straight, I would have been very interested. "I should have known a man of your stature would have large appetites." Rubi wandered around behind me and kneaded my shoulders. "Tell me," she purred in my ear, "are all your appetites large ones?"
HOLY SHIT,' my brain screamed, she's throwing it at me.' Being hit on by anyone was a new experience for me and I didn't know quite how to handle it. I leaned my head back to look into her upside-down face. She looked soft and warm and inviting and even though I wasn't attracted to her, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little interested. I did the right thing, as far as I saw it, and said no to her. I led my refusal with an apology to let her down easy. "I'm sorry," I said, "my appetites don't include women."
She squeezed my shoulders and frowned slightly. "You prefer men." She pushed away from me and took the glass tablet from the air. She leaned against the wall where she'd been when I walked in. "So do I. Women are soft and sweet and mutual and that's nice. I want exhilaration, aggression. That takes strength, and a healthy amount of arrogance. For that, you need a man."
The clerk, Attie, picked that moment to show up with a small tray supporting a gold coffee pot, a simple, cafeteria-style, white mug, and a matching saucer. He set the pot, mug, and saucer on the window sill and left without a word or a glance. Rubi watched him go and muttered something I didn't catch. The mug floated from the sill, as did the pot. The pot brimmed the mug and the mug floated to my hands. I drank. It was very nice blond roast coffee, perfect for the morning.
Rubi lost herself in the tablet, presumably selecting outfits and placing orders. I didn't know where she planned to get custom clothes in an hour, but I'd just been to a barber and left with more hair on my head than when I entered. After that experience, I presumed anything was possible.
I looked out Rubi's window and drank coffee for what turned out to be an exact hour. Footsteps on the stairs preceded the arrival of Attie. He carried a stack of folded clothes with a paper-wrapped pair of shoes on top. He stopped near Rubi. She unwrapped a pair of pink heels and set them on the floor. She flipped through the pile of clothes and found a flamingo pink, short-sleeve, collar-less, button-down shirt, which she sent floating in my direction.
I took it from the air and held it up to look at it. The shirt was something, intense would be a good word to describe the expanse of neon fabric. I removed my robe, returned it to the hat rack, and put the shirt on. It hugged my shoulders and back and fell nicely over my front, smoothing my fat middle on the way down. The un-tucked tail ended below my briefs. Next came a pastel pink pair of pants. These were flat-front, hip huggers that tapered from my thick thighs down to my ankles. I put them on and started tucking the shirt in, Rubi stopped me.
"Never." She insisted with a disdainful head shake. "The long shirt helps hide your stomach and tones down your height."
I untucked the shirt and fastened the pants. I stepped into the dished heels and looked for a mirror. I thought I was complete, but I was wrong. A long-cut, pastel pink jacket floated my way. It was collar-less, had no lapels, and no buttons. I shrugged into it. It also hugged my shoulders and back, and ended below the untucked shirt, about mid-way down my thighs.
Attie, now with nothing in his hands, turned and left. Rubi did something I didn't see, and the wall near me became a mirror, or perhaps a screen that displayed what a camera saw. I didn't see a camera, but I didn't know how a wall could become a mirror either. She moved next to me and explained her work, as much with her soft hands as she did with her voice.
"I tapered everything to your body. This makes you smaller because your clothes aren't adding size that isn't there. The long jacket and shirt compliment your long hair and pull you down to the rest of us. The very light colors make you less imposing. The bright shirt helps you blend with the crowd. I can't make you any less than six-feet-four-inches, but I can ground you. If you can lose some weight, I can do even more. How do the shoes feel?"
I marched in place a little. "They feel good...remind me of high-tops I had when I was a kid."
"What do you think of the whole package?" She asked with a lilting confidence in her voice that said she knew she'd done a good job.
The image in front of me changed to show me from all angles. `Must be a screen.' I thought. "The clothes do what you say they do." I admitted. "Thanks, Rubi. I think I'll draw less attention now."
She rubbed my back between my shoulder blades with a flat palm. "I'm glad you're pleased. I'll have the rest at your hotel by this evening. You can approve payment once you've looked everything over."
I shook her hand and started for the stairs, pausing just long enough to gather my Vis-Vit bag from the floor. "Church," she called after me. I stopped. She had her arms under her breasts again. "If you decide you want a taste of something different, I'm here Tuesday to Saturday and get done at five."
I couldn't help but grin. That was the first time in my life I'd ever been hit on by a stranger. "Thanks for the compliment. If my appetite ever changes, I'll bring it here first." I waved, went down the stairs, and out.
Back on the street, I waded into the crowd and made slow progress along the block. I wanted as many people as possible to walk by me so I could gauge their reactions. It only took a block for me to realize the clothes worked. I still drew glances, but not from a distance. People would find themselves close to me and glance up in surprise, but those even a few feet away, didn't do any more than flick their eyes in my direction. I still stood out, but now I was just a tall zebra instead of a giraffe.
It wasn't quite eleven yet but I was getting hungry. I walked a half-block to the cafŽ Shawn liked. This one didn't bother with Latin. The glass front was stenciled with block capital letters that said `CAFƒ.' There were tables the size of TV trays on the sidewalk and chairs that would have been at home in a middle school classroom. I peered through the glass in the hope the tables and chairs inside would be for grown-ups. The inside was more crowded than I liked and the accommodations were just as tiny. I folded myself into one of the outdoor chairs and sat to wait.
My hands were restless on the table-top. The first two fingers of my right hand tapped impatiently. The day before, a cigarette would have been burning between them, now they had nothing to do. It seemed Shawn eliminated the physical addiction and the habitual triggers, but a few traces of the twenty-five-year habit remained. `To be expected.' I thought and looked around idly.
The cafŽ door opened for a small boy carrying a menu that looked like a billboard in his hands. He saw me, skidded to a stop, turned on his heels, and scurried inside. My instinct was to be angry, but I couldn't be. I'd scared a grown man at breakfast. I should have been surprised if the kid didn't react the way he did. Jammed behind the little table, my proportions would have matched a circus bear riding a tiny bicycle.
I rubbed my face and wondered if it was possible for me to ever fit in. I dropped my hands and found myself eye to eye with a plump, apologetic brunette woman in a white apron. She was as tall standing as I was sitting down. The little boy, who was still clutching the billboard menu, peered around from behind her. "I'm sorry, sir." She said. "My son is ten and small for his age and you're...uhm...rather robust. I guess you startled him."
"It's fine, ma'am." I rested my elbows on the table and my chin on my fists. "I've been known to startle adults. I'm harmless though."
She put her hand on her son's head and gently urged him forward. "Xar, give the man his menu." She used that special tone that only mothers know. It's their `comfort and persuade' voice.
I did my best to look non-threatening. It must have worked because the boy crept out from behind his mother long enough to hand over the menu. "Thank you, Xar." I said as I accepted it.
He smiled like a cherub and scurried away. The woman thanked me for my patience. "He reminds me a little of my nephew." I offered. "They're the same age." I felt a pang of nostalgia when I said it. I never bothered much with my younger brother or his kid. I'd spent too much of the last decade drunk. I guessed I wouldn't ever see either of them again, no matter how the `save Solum' mission turned out.
"Should I give you a minute?" She asked, breaking into my reverie.
"No." I offered the unopened menu back to her. "My friend told me your club sandwiches are excellent. I'd like one of them please, with plain iced-tea and chips." My stomach grumbled as I said it and motivated an addition. "And a grilled cheese with bacon."
She accepted the menu. "And what will your friend be drinking?" She asked.
"What friend?" I asked.
Her face said she was trying to decide if I was dangerous after all. "The friend you ordered the other meal for."
The dim bulb that lives in my head lit with understanding. `That's why they kept asking you about another person when you ordered breakfast at The HALL the first day. They can't imagine one person eating that much.' I corrected her misunderstanding. "No ma'am. It's all for me."
A hint of embarrassed pink rose in her face. "Of course. Thank you, sir." She said and retreated inside.
I ate and people-watched for the better part of an hour. The quiet of the street and the warm, pleasant day, did wonders for my frayed nerves. It was strange finishing a meal without immediately lighting a cigarette, but it was so much nicer just to breathe the air. I wondered if I ever noticed how nice fresh air was before I smoked. Then again, I smoked for so long, I didn't really remember what it was like before.
After lunch, I had nothing to do. The tasks I'd set for myself were complete. I ambled aimlessly along the streets until I came to one of the vast parks that made up the next unit. I strolled in and lost myself between the trees and the thoughts of my over-stimulated brain. I thought about the morning and the barbers and my new tailor. Rubi's skill with the tape measure and tablet made me feel bad about neglecting my own magic. I was supposed to be working on my control and I'd done nothing. I went deeper into the wooded section of the park and found some temporary privacy under the lush foliage of the trees.
I picked up a rock, tossed it in the air, and caught it with magic. I could actually feel the texture of the rock with my power, like my mind was holding it. I made it fly around a little and was in the middle of showing off for myself when the crunch of footsteps told me I wouldn't be alone much longer.
I released my hold on the rock and it fell to the ground just off the path. I loitered around, pretending to examine tree leaves like a nature enthusiast until the intruder was out of sight. I picked the rock back up with my magic and tried to hold onto it without looking at it. I shut my eyes and the rock clattered on the path. I tried again and again. The rock fell each time. I picked it up with my hand and studied it. "What am I doing wrong?" I asked it.
I held the rock and shut my eyes. I couldn't see it, but my hand still held it. I thought about that. "How do you know you still have it." I asked me out loud.
"Because I feel it." I answered myself.
"What does it feel like?"
"It's course and gritty. It has a jagged edge where it was broken."
"Does that help us?"
I opened my eyes to study the hand that held the rock. "I don't know."
Beyond the rock, and just inside my peripheral vision, was a girl. She wore a yellow sundress and had long, straight, raven black hair that fell all the way down her back. She stared at me with dark, curious eyes. I closed the rock in my hand and shoved the hand in my pocket. "It's OK to laugh," I said as heat poured from my embarrassed red face, "I would if I was you."
She shrieked with merriment and clicked passed me on blue high-heels. "Oh, like you've never talked to a rock." I called after her with mock indignance. She shrieked again and clicked out of sight.
"Gee, Church," I said to myself when I was alone, "why not invest in a unicycle? Then you can really blend in."
I took my hand from my pocket and blamed the rock for embarrassing me. It didn't seem to feel that it had any responsibility. I disagreed. I tossed it in the air again and caught it with magic again. I felt it with my mind. The tactile sensation was the same with my power as it had been with my hand. I focused on the feeling of holding the rock with my mind and shut my eyes. I opened them and the rock still hovered.
I made it do some more aerobatics and wished I had a model airplane or a kite. "I could have dogfights with myself." I mused. I had the rock fly around behind me and it stayed in the air.
"Alright, rock," I said to it, "let's go for a walk."
I hovered it just behind my left shoulder and continued my stroll. I didn't want to keep it in front, because I didn't want to be able to see it and I didn't want a floating rock to be the first thing people noticed when they saw me. Behind me, it would challenge my skill more, it would be less noticeable, and if I thought anyone did notice, I could just drop it and walk away. People didn't seem to be bashful about using their powers, but I hadn't seen anyone else walking down the street with random objects floating around them like an infant's mobile. The rock followed me all through the park.
In the mid-afternoon, I was hungry again and getting tired of wandering around. I found a bus stop and boarded a bus back to the hotel. I'd actually forgotten about the rock until I sat down and it dug into my back. I hovered it around in front of my face and spoke to it for the amusement of an elderly man in the opposite seat. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you." I opened the flap of my jacket and floated the rock into the inside pocket. "You're grounded." I said to the pocket and let the flap drop closed against my chest.
I shook my head at the old man. "Kids these days. Am I right?"
He snickered. "Right."
I was glad the old man saw the humor. `Generally polite people with decent sense of humor. I think I will like it here.' I thought and settled in for the ride back.