Chapter 7

"How can I help you today, sir?" The saleswoman was a petite bottle blonde with a wide, false smile meant to make him feel at ease. He frowned, looking around the small boutique, and indicated the neat racks of clothing against the wall.

"I want to buy some clothes for my niece," he muttered. "Christmas presents." The woman smiled a little more warmly and nodded.

"Of course. Do you know her size?"

Size? His mind went blank. How on earth was he supposed to know what size Celeste wore? He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Small," he said. "Very small."

"Like Katrina?" the salesgirl asked, pointing to one of her associates, a leggy brunette who looked like a stick in high heels. He scowled and shook his head.

"No. She's about..." he thought for a moment and then put his hand on his chest, indicating Celeste's height. "Tiny. Like a bird. But she has a little bit of curve."

"Okay." The girl's smile faded, and she led the way to a rack of tailored pantsuits. "Does this one look about right?" She held up an example and he shuffled his feet.

"About. But she doesn't... nothing so formal. Do you have blue jeans? Sweaters? She's young." The smile vanished entirely.

"We have a very nice line of younger club wear. This way." He followed miserably, his heart sinking. He allowed the salesgirl, whose name tag read Lisa, drag him through a selection of overtly provocative clothing. Finally, he chose a pair of leather trousers and a deep blue sweater with sparkling metallic threads woven through the soft knit. As they made their way back to the cash register, he stopped beside a mannequin. The display was a soft, draping velvet dress in a rich emerald green, paired with a beautifully embroidered shawl and a delicate gold and enamel pendant. Thoughtfully, he measured the mannequin's waist with his hands and thought of Celeste, still sleeping underneath the chenille throw on his couch as he had last seen her.

"This," he said. Lisa turned back, her eyes widening when she saw what he was looking at.

"Oh, that's a beautiful dress, isn't it? And we may just have one in a small enough size--"

"No," he interrupted. "This one. It's just right for her. I want the whole thing."

"Well, if you insist." Flustered, the woman came back and carefully unwrapped the shawl so that she could unzip the dress from the smooth plaster form. He touched the pendant with his fingertip, smiling.

"The necklace too. And she'll need shoes for it." Once committed to the project, he ended up with more than he'd bargained for. Three of the saleswomen were scurrying back and forth, bringing him things to have them rejected or accepted. After a final decision on a coat, he nodded and meandered back to the cash register. When Lisa read out the total with a slight stammer, he handed her a credit card.

"You have lost your mind," Charles said wonderingly as Jamie struggled out of the elevator laden with bags. "What have you been doing?"

"Shopping!" Jamie laughed. "What does it look like I've been doing?"

"I can tell," Charles muttered, taking an armload of the loot and dropping it in the corner of the studio's office. "Have you been working on some new stuff?"

"Maybe," Jamie hedged, thinking about the skittish half-woman, half-child he had left in his apartment. She had promised to stay put until he came back, sleeping, she assured him, and not answering the door or phone. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you scribbled it all over everything, and left it all lying in the control room. I looked through it. It's good, man. You got a new girlfriend?" Charles' devilish grin made Jamie squirm.

"What makes you say that?" Playing for time, Jamie turned away and started pulling off his gloves and coat. He'd always been an abysmal liar, and Charles would instantly get suspicious if he denied that he had a new woman in his life.

"Come on, man. You always write better when you're getting laid." Charles grinned and elbowed Jamie gently. "Whoever she is, she must be something special in the sack. You don't usually do the holiday thing."

Jamie ducked his head, blushing. "Lay off, man. We've got a record to make." Charles laughed and slung a companionable arm over his friend's shoulders.

"Whatever you say, buddy."