but at least it meant there was a makeshift changing room until Mas had sorted something better out. “Here you go. Sorry it’s so dark, but there’s a mirror over on that cabinet. We’re just about to do some remodelling, so things are a bit chaotic in here right now. I’ll leave you try that on. Make sure you show me when you’re changed.”
Mas whisked back to the other side of the curtain before she could have second thoughts, and ran straight into Perry.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Perry hissed.
Uh-oh. “Selling a dress?”
Perry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the other side of the now empty shop. “You can’t just do that.”
“And why not, exactly?” Mas drew himself up to his full height, and although Perry was still a good eight inches taller, he visibly flinched. “Give me one good reason why I can’t.”
Chapter Twelve
Perry dropped his voice, but he refused to be intimidated by Mas’s challenge. “She’s come in before, but she never buys anything,” he said. “And now you’ve left her alone in there. Who knows what she could be shoving into that enormous rucksack of hers?”
“She’s not a lifter.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. I suppose she might if she was desperate. There’s a lot of us who might under those circumstances, but she’s not a klepto or a thrillseeker.”
“But how can you tell for sure? It’s best to just be suspicious of everyone.”
“That’s a pretty shitty way to treat your customers.”
“Yes, but as I was telling you, she’s not a customer. Never bought a thing.”
“Today she will. I’ll make sure of it.” Mas smiled serenely, and Perry wondered what that level of confidence must feel like. Like you could achieve anything you put your mind to.
But maybe Mas could. After all, he’d managed to get the woman to actually try something on, which was probably a step closer to buying something than she’d ever reached before. If she liked it, and if it fit. And even if it didn’t, he had the feeling a talented salesman could probably still persuade her to part with her cash. Just how talented was Mas? “I have a proposition for you,” Perry found himself saying, somewhat against his better judgement.
“Oh yes?” Mas purred and sidled closer. So close Perry caught a waft of scent from him—a surprisingly good cologne again, rather than the cheap, brash body spray he’d have expected from one so young and fashionable. “So you’ve changed your mind about being straight, have you?”
Perry’s cheeks heated. Had Mas noticed him sniffing him out like a pig after truffles? “Not that kind of proposition. A business one. If you can sell ten items of clothing by the end of the day, the job’s yours. We’ll work out all the details later.”
“Ten?” Mas rubbed his hands together, looking around the shop. “Okay, sounds doable. I’m going to need to know some prices, though, seeing as how you haven’t done anything as helpful as actually tag anything.”
“I don’t need tags to remind me. It’s all in here.” He tapped his head.
“You might not need them, but since most people can’t read minds, your customers need a helping hand. I think it might even be the law.”
“Goodness. Do you really think so?” The idea of having broken the law, no matter how unwittingly, filled Perry with horror. What if it got back to his father?
“Hey, it’s all right. I don’t see any Trading Standards officers kicking down your door. But it’s definitely something we need to get sorted. So, let me know what your prices are and how much wiggle room is built in.”
“Wiggle room?” A vision of Mas wriggling around in tight clothing leapt up in Perry’s internal sketchpad. Begone, tempting vision!
“Yep, you know. How much I can let people haggle it down.”
“Oh. Of course. Well, waistcoats, for instance,” Perry began, tugging on the nearest rack to distract himself from the strangely erotic mental
Mas whisked back to the other side of the curtain before she could have second thoughts, and ran straight into Perry.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Perry hissed.
Uh-oh. “Selling a dress?”
Perry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the other side of the now empty shop. “You can’t just do that.”
“And why not, exactly?” Mas drew himself up to his full height, and although Perry was still a good eight inches taller, he visibly flinched. “Give me one good reason why I can’t.”
Chapter Twelve
Perry dropped his voice, but he refused to be intimidated by Mas’s challenge. “She’s come in before, but she never buys anything,” he said. “And now you’ve left her alone in there. Who knows what she could be shoving into that enormous rucksack of hers?”
“She’s not a lifter.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. I suppose she might if she was desperate. There’s a lot of us who might under those circumstances, but she’s not a klepto or a thrillseeker.”
“But how can you tell for sure? It’s best to just be suspicious of everyone.”
“That’s a pretty shitty way to treat your customers.”
“Yes, but as I was telling you, she’s not a customer. Never bought a thing.”
“Today she will. I’ll make sure of it.” Mas smiled serenely, and Perry wondered what that level of confidence must feel like. Like you could achieve anything you put your mind to.
But maybe Mas could. After all, he’d managed to get the woman to actually try something on, which was probably a step closer to buying something than she’d ever reached before. If she liked it, and if it fit. And even if it didn’t, he had the feeling a talented salesman could probably still persuade her to part with her cash. Just how talented was Mas? “I have a proposition for you,” Perry found himself saying, somewhat against his better judgement.
“Oh yes?” Mas purred and sidled closer. So close Perry caught a waft of scent from him—a surprisingly good cologne again, rather than the cheap, brash body spray he’d have expected from one so young and fashionable. “So you’ve changed your mind about being straight, have you?”
Perry’s cheeks heated. Had Mas noticed him sniffing him out like a pig after truffles? “Not that kind of proposition. A business one. If you can sell ten items of clothing by the end of the day, the job’s yours. We’ll work out all the details later.”
“Ten?” Mas rubbed his hands together, looking around the shop. “Okay, sounds doable. I’m going to need to know some prices, though, seeing as how you haven’t done anything as helpful as actually tag anything.”
“I don’t need tags to remind me. It’s all in here.” He tapped his head.
“You might not need them, but since most people can’t read minds, your customers need a helping hand. I think it might even be the law.”
“Goodness. Do you really think so?” The idea of having broken the law, no matter how unwittingly, filled Perry with horror. What if it got back to his father?
“Hey, it’s all right. I don’t see any Trading Standards officers kicking down your door. But it’s definitely something we need to get sorted. So, let me know what your prices are and how much wiggle room is built in.”
“Wiggle room?” A vision of Mas wriggling around in tight clothing leapt up in Perry’s internal sketchpad. Begone, tempting vision!
“Yep, you know. How much I can let people haggle it down.”
“Oh. Of course. Well, waistcoats, for instance,” Perry began, tugging on the nearest rack to distract himself from the strangely erotic mental
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