No matter. I turn and stride over to the shirts he indicated at the front of the shop. The buttons are only on top, and there is a formal collar. The sleeves are cut short. Perhaps these shirts are meant exclusively for strong men, like myself, to display our arms in a show of muscular prowess.
“I will take one of these in every color.” I turn to Neli standing nearby. “Did you bring sufficient gold coins to cover it?”
She leans close. “They don’t use gold coins anymore. It’s more convenient to use this.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small leather holder. From this she removes a slim black rectangle that shimmers in the dim space. I do not know what it is made of, but it is unlike anything I have ever seen before. “Here. I got one in your name. It’s called a credit card. Basically, it’s like an electronic banknote. You give it to the merchant and they use it to draft a note to the bank, who pays them on your behalf. You settle your account with the credit card company later.”
I take the item and notice that my name is imprinted on it along with the words American Express. “Very ingenious.” Sounds like something I would have invented. “Please bring my items to the money man,” I tell her. “Perhaps I will look for more of these shirts with short sleeves.” I peruse the wares of “Must Have Tees” and take a white tee in large. Just to be sure, I remove my SF hat and sweater to try it on.
The store idiot approaches with a stack of blue trousers. “These jeans are super popular right now. They keep selling out, but we got a new shipment in this morning.”
These “jeans” have holes in them, indicating that it is perhaps in fashion to not display one’s wealth. A silly idea, but fine. I am here because I wish to blend in. I remove my shoes and leather trousers.
“Dear God!” An older woman covers the eyes of a younger woman. She must be protecting her virgin eyes. Ah, see, this is why men and women usually go to different tailors—the tender eyes of young maidens. When you are as well-endowed as I am, underclothes cannot be worn with leather trousers.
“Whoa, dude,” says the idiot.
“Boz, no!” Neli exclaims, rushing toward me. “Put your trousers back on, please. There are dressing rooms for that.”
“A whole room to dress? Why didn’t you say so?” In my day, one simply stood in the middle of the tailor’s shop while he fitted you.
The young man holding the light blue trousers gestures toward the back, and I follow him. I can hear giggling from the women’s side of the store, and that only makes me stand taller. Maidenly virtue is one of the highest delights.
“What is taking you so long?” I demand irritably as we walk through the mall toward the doors leading outside. “We must get to Stella’s home within the hour.” Yes, I finally figured out how to tell time using their clocks. It makes sense that they abandoned the sundial since the peasants spend so little time outdoors.
“Some help would be nice,” Neli says from under a pile of bags hanging from her shoulders, wrists, and gathered against her chest.
“Yes, well, help cannot be found at the moment. I have not had time to procure another servant since I have just woken from a five-hundred-year nap.” Could I be more sarcastic? I chuckle to myself. Chandler has taught me well.
Neli does not laugh. I could order her to, but I am suddenly halted by the most wondrous sight. There, across the indoor courtyard, a shop with a large portrait of a man and woman embracing. They are about to kiss.
A moment later, I peer into the shop and find jewels displayed on black velvet. It is perfect. A gift for Stella.
I stride forward confidently with my American card and stop in front of an elderly crone wearing a gray dress. “Hello, I am Mr. Bozhidar. I would like your finest jewelry as a gift for my virgin date.”
“First date,” Neli chimes in from behind me.
The crone indicates a chair in the corner. “Miss, why don’t you have a seat and set your bags down?”
“Thank you,” Neli says and shuffles to the corner.
“Perhaps you would like a simple silver bracelet?” the crone asks.
I suppress a shudder. Silver and I do not get along. “I prefer gold.”
She points to a gold chain with a heart fastened on one end. “A sweetheart necklace could be good for a first date. Would you like to see it?”
I incline my head, and she pulls a key out from a drawer, unlocking the jewelry case. She removes the heart and opens it. “You can put a picture in there.”