left?”
“Money?” Shannon threw back her head and laughed. “Hal, honey. This is credit. But we’re opening a series of store charges so that you can save ten to fifteen percent. That’s a lot of money saved right there.”
Hal dug his hands into his pockets. “How come I have to spend so much in order to save?”
“It’s just the law of retail,” Shannon told him, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Don’t do that. You look like an overgrown teenager.”
“Aw, for chrissakes—”
“Shoulders back! Stomach in! Cock one hip. Good,” said his drill sergeant. “Now, casually drape one arm along the counter. Excellent.”
He curled his lip at her.
“Stop that. Turn to Lana,” she instructed.
Lana was their current salesperson, engaged in packaging all of his new silk boxers. He looked at her, and she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow at Shannon.
“Now smile,” said his tormentor. “Smile at Lana like she’s the only woman in the world.”
“Cheese,” said Hal. “This is beyond cheesy…” But somewhere along the way, he did aim a genuine smile in her direction.
Lana blinked and a dreamy expression came over her face. She smiled back. Then she said, “Wow.”
Wow? Did she mean this stuff actually worked? Hal kept his shoulders straight and then folded his arms on the counter and leaned in just a tad. He decided to experiment.
“Lana, I’m in training here. I haven’t graduated yet from Suave School. But I have to say that you have the most beautiful eyes.”
The woman, probably in her midforties, blushed and dimpled. “Oh, thank you. Aren’t you sweet.” She stuck some kind of gold sticker on the tissue paper she’d wrapped around the boxers. “You know, I think I can give you another special discount on these…let me see if I can find the code.” She rummaged around. “Yes! Here it is.”
And just like that, Hal learned the power of charm and image.
Shannon dug him in the ribs with her elbow as they walked out. “See? A smile, a little easy confidence and good grooming. They will get you everywhere. You gonna listen to me now?”
Hal all but staggered under the combined weight of the shopping bags. “Are we done yet?”
“One more stop at a sporting goods store. We need to get you outfitted for the gym.”
He groaned. “You are relentless. Why does it matter what I wear when I sweat?”
“Are you kidding me?” Shannon stared at him. “This could be the most important part for your social life, Hal.”
“Huh?”
She gazed at him with something akin to pity. “You’re going to be picking up chicks in the gym.”
“Chicks,” repeated Hal.
“Yes,” she told him. “So you’ve got to show all the right bulges in all the right places.”
I got a bulge for you right here, baby. But he didn’t say it aloud. He was pretty sure that sentiment crossed the line from “cool” to “disgustingly piggy.”
So he just continued to drag their kill through the echoing, gleaming mall until they arrived at a he-man’s paradise called Jock, Stock and Barrel. Leering in the window stood a shiny mannequin with Ricky Martin’s face and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s body. It had biceps like Popeye and wore microscopic, lime-green nylon shorts with a canary-yellow muscle T-shirt.
“No,” said Hal, transfixed with horror. “I’m not setting foot in there.” A man had to draw the line somewhere, didn’t he?
12
“C OME ON , H AL ,” S HANNON bullied him. “We’re almost done.” It had been a very long afternoon and she was tired. Spike-heeled boots might look killer, but they felt killer, too.
“Correction. We are done.” And her client dug in his own heels. The formerly malleable Hal became a mule, and no matter what angle she took she could not find the carrot to move him forward.
She finally installed him back in her moldy beemer and put on some reggae music in the hopes that he’d unwind a little. She drove to a nearby strip mall and left him in the
“Money?” Shannon threw back her head and laughed. “Hal, honey. This is credit. But we’re opening a series of store charges so that you can save ten to fifteen percent. That’s a lot of money saved right there.”
Hal dug his hands into his pockets. “How come I have to spend so much in order to save?”
“It’s just the law of retail,” Shannon told him, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Don’t do that. You look like an overgrown teenager.”
“Aw, for chrissakes—”
“Shoulders back! Stomach in! Cock one hip. Good,” said his drill sergeant. “Now, casually drape one arm along the counter. Excellent.”
He curled his lip at her.
“Stop that. Turn to Lana,” she instructed.
Lana was their current salesperson, engaged in packaging all of his new silk boxers. He looked at her, and she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow at Shannon.
“Now smile,” said his tormentor. “Smile at Lana like she’s the only woman in the world.”
“Cheese,” said Hal. “This is beyond cheesy…” But somewhere along the way, he did aim a genuine smile in her direction.
Lana blinked and a dreamy expression came over her face. She smiled back. Then she said, “Wow.”
Wow? Did she mean this stuff actually worked? Hal kept his shoulders straight and then folded his arms on the counter and leaned in just a tad. He decided to experiment.
“Lana, I’m in training here. I haven’t graduated yet from Suave School. But I have to say that you have the most beautiful eyes.”
The woman, probably in her midforties, blushed and dimpled. “Oh, thank you. Aren’t you sweet.” She stuck some kind of gold sticker on the tissue paper she’d wrapped around the boxers. “You know, I think I can give you another special discount on these…let me see if I can find the code.” She rummaged around. “Yes! Here it is.”
And just like that, Hal learned the power of charm and image.
Shannon dug him in the ribs with her elbow as they walked out. “See? A smile, a little easy confidence and good grooming. They will get you everywhere. You gonna listen to me now?”
Hal all but staggered under the combined weight of the shopping bags. “Are we done yet?”
“One more stop at a sporting goods store. We need to get you outfitted for the gym.”
He groaned. “You are relentless. Why does it matter what I wear when I sweat?”
“Are you kidding me?” Shannon stared at him. “This could be the most important part for your social life, Hal.”
“Huh?”
She gazed at him with something akin to pity. “You’re going to be picking up chicks in the gym.”
“Chicks,” repeated Hal.
“Yes,” she told him. “So you’ve got to show all the right bulges in all the right places.”
I got a bulge for you right here, baby. But he didn’t say it aloud. He was pretty sure that sentiment crossed the line from “cool” to “disgustingly piggy.”
So he just continued to drag their kill through the echoing, gleaming mall until they arrived at a he-man’s paradise called Jock, Stock and Barrel. Leering in the window stood a shiny mannequin with Ricky Martin’s face and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s body. It had biceps like Popeye and wore microscopic, lime-green nylon shorts with a canary-yellow muscle T-shirt.
“No,” said Hal, transfixed with horror. “I’m not setting foot in there.” A man had to draw the line somewhere, didn’t he?
12
“C OME ON , H AL ,” S HANNON bullied him. “We’re almost done.” It had been a very long afternoon and she was tired. Spike-heeled boots might look killer, but they felt killer, too.
“Correction. We are done.” And her client dug in his own heels. The formerly malleable Hal became a mule, and no matter what angle she took she could not find the carrot to move him forward.
She finally installed him back in her moldy beemer and put on some reggae music in the hopes that he’d unwind a little. She drove to a nearby strip mall and left him in the
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