Half Share

me, but I also realized just how much I enjoyed it. I felt like I was riding a roller coaster without seatbelts.

Near the front of the shop I caught sight of us as a group reflected in the glass. Brill, the statuesque goddess, strode the deck like some modern-day Valkyrie. Diane and Bev were in escort position one step behind me and offset one left and the other right. I was in the middle and did not feel so much like a prisoner but kind of protected. I straightened up and tried to walk with a bit more confidence. If these magnificent women thought I was worth protecting, then I wanted to at least pretend to be worthy. The glimpse was over in a flash as we hit the double doors and Brill sailed through them and into Chez Henri.

Chez Henri was nothing like what I thought of when I pictured a shop in my mind’s eye. I immediately realized that I was way out of my league. Upon entering, I noticed there were no displays of any kind. There were not even any mannequins. The entry consisted of just a podium where a woman wearing a tweed suit stood and peered at us over antique-looking half-glasses. Doors flanked her on either side. The whole set up reminded me of a posh restaurant. Sizing us up with a glance she addressed Brill. “Good afternoon, madam, do you have a reservation?”

Brill is not easily intimidated, especially not by tweed-suited receptionists. “We’d like to see Monsieur Roubaille,” she said with a cool smile.

The receptionist was a pro and merely smirked. “Many people would, madam, but without a reservation, I am afraid it is quite impossible.”

“Excuse me,” I spoke for the first time since leaving the ship and with what I hoped was considerably more confidence than I felt. “My name is Ishmael Wang and Monsieur Bresheu said I should pay a visit when I arrived in Dunsany.” I produced the chip and held it up.

“Impossible. Bresheu is in St. Cloud,” the woman said dismissively, thrown off by my interruption.

“And, as it happens, we have just arrived from there.”

Brill slid smoothly aside and I stepped forward.

“If you would be so kind as to pass this on to Monsieur Roubaille, we can wait.” I handed her the chip.

She took it between thumb and finger as if suspicious of its cleanliness and turned it so the flowery B was visible on the casing. She controlled her emotions well, but her eyes flared slightly as her eyes focused on the chip. She looked first at me and then at each of the women with a new kind of uncertainty.

“Of course, Monsieur,” she said finally with a small nod in my direction. “I’ll be but a moment.”

She disappeared through the door on the right. I looked behind me and saw Beverly and Diane arranged so they could watch the entry while Brill was standing off to the side with a small, satisfied smile. She winked once quickly and gave the tiniest of nods.

I could hear the voices coming from behind the door even before it burst open and a thin man rushed into the entry with the receptionist in tow. “Mr. Wang?” he said, looking at me. “My name is Henri Roubaille. Welcome to my shop. How may I help you today?”

“Bon jour, Monsieur. As you can see, I am in need of some more suitable clothing.”

“Certainly, if you would please step this way?” he indicated where the receptionist held the door open and swept us into the inner sanctum.

I followed him through the door and Brill, Diane and Beverly trailed me. We entered into a smallish room with sofas and easy chairs arranged artfully around a coffee table. To be honest, I had no idea what to expect, but it was not this. I had yet to see a single garment that was not already in use and I grew more confused as each tick passed.

“Please, have a seat.” He swep t a hand at the chairs. Brill nodded to Diane and Bev who sat together on one sofa while she took one of the side chairs. I followed and took the seat she had indicated with her eyes. M. Roubaille stood in attendance at the front of the room and, after a few ticks of pleasantry on the subject of refreshments, began the serious business. “How may I serve you this afternoon, Monsieur?”

Brill spoke while I was still trying to figure out what I was doing. “M. Wang needs an outfit, Monsieur. We visited Bresheu in St. Cloud but ran out of time before he could decide and M. Bresheu graciously provided the introduction to you.”

M. Roubaille paid particular attention to Brill but his eyes periodically tracked to Diane and Beverly as well. “And do we know what kind of outfit? Formal? Evening wear? Day wear?”

“Casual, multipurpose, suitable for business or a dinner with a colleague,” she replied instantly. “Something that fits him. Perhaps a suit or some other ensemble.” She smiled and finished with, “That is why we have come to you, Monsieur.”

I heard the words, but I did not understand the message that Brill had just given M. Roubaille. Apparently, he did because he gave a little bow to her and said, “Of course.” He turned to me and asked, “Shall we begin, Monsieur?” He held out his open hand indicating a passage to the side. I stood and followed him.

He led me around the corner to a small, draped changing room. I could hear Brill and Diane talking in low voices on the other side of the partition somewhere with Beverly punctuating the discussion, but I could not make out their words. Everything was quiet and muffled.

Roubaille stood me in the middle of the room and said, “Very well, Monsieur, if you would kindly slip out of your garments?” He held up a sumptuous-looking white robe. I stripped off my boots, pants, and shirt, laying them across the back of a chair. “The under garments as well, Monsieur. The canvas must be fresh.”

I slipped off my ship-tee and he slid the robe over my shoulders while I stripped off my boxers from underneath. My socks were the last to go. I should have been nervous but the robe felt so luxurious against my skin. I did not even flinch at being practically naked with this strange man in the room. Besides, I did not want to embarrass Brill and the rest by making some kind of scene. I could still hear them talking softly and I found their quiet conversation comforting in a weird way.

“If you would slip into these, now, Monsieur…a bit of support, yes?” He held a pair of briefs toward me and I slipped them on under the robe. After months of boxers, the soft cotton briefs felt a bit odd, but comforting. “Now, I think we are ready to begin. If you would stand here?” He indicated a spot on the floor and pulled a drape open to reveal a mirror. He came to stand behind me and we looked into the glass together for a moment. He stood just a bit shorter than me and off to the side so he could see me well in the glass. He reached up with one smooth movement and slipped the robe from my shoulders and I stood there looking into the glass wearing only the snug briefs.

“So, Mr. Ishmael Wang? Who do you think you are?” he asked it softly, catching my eyes in the mirror. He did not ask it the way my mother used to when she was angry. His query put a particular emphasis on the word think.

“I’m just a guy. Nothing special, but I’d like to have some decent clothes.” I smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

He tsked and shook his head at me. “Please do not waste my time with this foolishness. You arrive at my shop with an introduction from Bresheu himself, and not merely a business card. No, you present a custom data chip with his initial on the case! You arrive in the company of not one, but three of the most delightful and strikingly beautiful women on this end of the galaxy, and you have the audacity to say to me ‘I’m just a guy’?” He pursed his lips in a puckered little smile. “I think we both know you are more than that.”

The world receded and I found myself staring at the mirror. The running had done a lot for my body over the last few months. While I still was not beefy across the arms and shoulders like Pip, the muscles in my thighs and calves were pretty well defined. Not bodybuilder material but still pretty decent and I was surprised to see the way the light fell across my stomach. I had never been fat in my life, but neither did I have washboard abs before—even when running track in school. I ran a hand across my stomach while the shadows played in the mirror. I did a half turn and looked at the way the running had shaped up my buttocks before I realized what I was doing and glanced at M. Roubaille. He merely stood with the robe in his hands and waited patiently.

“Please, M. Wang.” He offered a reassuring smile. “You cannot afford to be shy. You must have a good look at yourself if we are to understand how you should be dressed.”

So, I took a deep breath and turned this way and that. The white cotton briefs fit perfectly and I started to get an idea of how others might see me—young still, beyond the coltishness of youth but not yet at that point of full maturity—slight of build but definitely male.

“Do you like what you see, M. Wang?”

It did not exactly feel natural standing there looking at myself in the mirror while this stranger watched me, but it was as if that part of my mind were numbed. I knew it was weird, but the weirdness did not seem to matter.