Chapter 8

Timing was everything when it came down to it. The costume shop closed at six, which gave Damien time, between sunset at four-thirty or thereabouts and when Lyle would arrive home, to change into clothes that suited his new persona. He decided on black slacks, a white shirt topped by a gray vest, and a black bowtie, all at Radclyffe’s suggestion.

“I guess I look like a waiter in an upscale restaurant,” he grumbled after checking it out in his dresser mirror.

“One who has had a rough couple of days, between moving in and then working yesterday, and working the day-shift today,” Radclyffe agreed from his spot on the edge of Damien’s bed. “Remember, you normally…”

“Work the day-shift. Yeah, yeah, got that. It explains why I’m around in the evenings, if he asks.”

“Exactly. Take off your coat before you get to the elevator so he can see you in all your overworked splendor.”

“Splendor is not the word I’d use,” Damien retorted. “I wish…” He sighed.