Chapter 22

Frowning in the mirror, I pick at the hair along my chin and think I should shave it off. Just for something different. But I stopped shaving a few months back in the hopes of looking older, more sophisticated. The moment the opening came up in sales, actually. I ditched the baby face and the boyish hair, started wearing ties and cuff links, the whole nine yards. Has anyone in the office noticed yet? If they have, it hasn’t done jack towards getting me a raise.

I don’t even own a razor anymore. I was a disposable blade sort of man, but from the look of it, I’m never going to sport more than a shadow of stubble anyway. Aaron has a nice electric razor—even though he sports a grizzly morning-after look himself on the days he has to work first shift, he has the Norelco his mom bought him for Christmas last year.

“Can I use your razor?” I ask. Before he can answer, I duck under the sink and reach for his little black travel bag. What’s he going to say, no?