Stan had to look at him to know he was joking. Then he rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think so, darling.”
Stan tended to move quickly when he was shopping. He knew almost instinctively what he wanted and what was going to fit his shape. Years of shopping in the womenswear department with a man’s body had taught him a lot. And of course, his eye for colour and shape was well known.
It didn’t take long for a sales assistant to swoop down on them.
“I can take these to a dressing room for you?” she offered, nodding to the pile in Stan’s arms.
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“No, just let me know where you take it so I can find it later.” Stan gave her a smile.
“Of course.”
Ben waited until she was a safe distance away before he leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.
“Does she know who she’s dealing with?”
Stan gave an affected shrug. “Maybe. You can go look for things for yourself, if you like. Menswear is on the ground floor.”
“Nah. I’m okay with this. I’m still impressed you could find so much for me in less than fifteen minutes. In one shop.”
“I’m a professional.”
“Yeah, I suppose you are.”
Stan gathered another dozen or so pieces before heading over to the dressing room the assistant had pointed out.
“We have our personal shopping department upstairs if you’d be more comfortable up there,” she offered as Stan started unloading things.
“No, this is fine. Thank you.”
Ben took a seat on the boyfriend bench and folded his arms over his chest, apparently endlessly amused at the interaction between Stan and the poor girl. Stan wasn’t sure what the fuss was about. He was being very polite.
While grinning over his shoulder at Ben, Stan ducked into the dressing room to change.
Stan had wondered how long it would be before someone figured out who he was; then he was treated to a visit from an old friend.
“Olivia,” he greeted, smiling as he kissed her on each cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you,” she agreed.
Stan had worked with Olivia in Paris. She had been a stylist who’d collaborated with Stan on several articles. Now she was one of the higher-up managers here.
“This is my friend Ben.”
Ben grunted at her. She smiled blandly at him in response.
“I didn’t know you were in London.”
“It wasn’t a planned visit,” he admitted, pulling his hair free of the neckband of the top he’d just finished buttoning. “If it was, I would have looked you up.”
“Can I give you a tip?”
Stan raised an eyebrow at her.
“There’s a show tonight, in Spitalfields,” she said, tucking her dark bob behind her ear. “British-Nigerian designer, just graduated LCF with one of the best graduating shows I’ve ever seen. She does things with colours and textures that’ll make you drool, Stan.”
“This isn’t a work trip,” he said. Then turned to the sales assistant, who was still hovering. “I need a size seven, closed-toe heel. No straps.”
“Of course,” she said, and scuttled away.
Ben made another noise that Stan decided to ignore.
“You’re involved at LCF?” Stan asked Olivia.
London College of Fashion was to London what Parsons was to New York—the gateway through which new designers emerged. Stan had always kept half an eye on the university, even after he’d left the city.
“I was invited to their end-of-year shows,” Olivia said. “I wouldn’t normally bother, but I just broke up with Kaitlyn, and I needed a distraction.”
Stan made a sympathetic noise. “Does this come in a dress?” he asked, smoothing his hand over the burgundy satin shirt.
“Shin length,” Olivia agreed. “Two?”
“And a one. Please.”
She gestured and another sales assistant disappeared.
“It’s like you have minions,” Ben said from his seat.
Stan laughed. “They love it. I know I used to.”
“It’s at eight,” Olivia said, changing tack. “I’ll get your name on the attendees list. You have to go, Stan. It’s so your thing. Plus, there’s a few new designers showing and along with some familiar faces. I’m excited, which tells you something.”
Stan cast a glance over at Ben, who seemed entirely comfortable. He shrugged at Stan, and Stan wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Put my name down,” he said. “If I can make it, I will.”
“Excellent,” Olivia said and leaned in to kiss his cheeks. “I’ll make sure you have a plus-one.”
Both sales assistants reappeared at the same time, one with the burgundy dress, the other with several boxes of shoes. Stan spotted a pair of mustard-yellow Dolce & Gabbana pumps, and grinned.
He’d missed this too.
Chapter Ten
Ben watched Stan try on clothes and soaked himself in every moment of it. It helped that Harrods was calm and cool and a million miles away from his comfort zone.
Even though his skin crawled with the craving for something to take the edge off, Ben was in control for the first time in years. Normally in situations like this, he would find an excuse to take a couple of Valium and float through the tense, stomach-knotting anxiety in a haze of not giving a shit.
It had been a good cycle, for a while—cocaine to get him going and Valium to push him into sleep again when the comedown hit too hard and he couldn’t stop shaking. Being able to recognise both the cycle and his dependency on it didn’t stop his body from wanting it, though.
Maybe what he’d needed all this time was for someone to make him do something he wouldn’t ever normally do. Like go out in public while stone-cold sober, to a place where he might be recognised, and just sit and wait. He didn’t have a phone, so he couldn’t distract himself with Twitter or stupid games. This moment—the one he was living—was totally unavoidable.
The sales assistant girl gave him a small, friendly smile. Ben forced himself to return it.
“I like this one,” Stan said as he dramatically threw the curtain open.
The dress was black, falling to his shins with a cut up the skirt that exposed the long line of Stan’s leg. The top twisted at the waist, a strange angle and pleat of fabric that looked almost Grecian as it bisected Stan’s chest. It was very, very Stan. He looked incredible. Ben’s stomach ached with all the ways he didn’t know how to tell Stan that anymore.
“Me too,” Ben said. “You sure you want something black for summer, though?”
Stan rolled his eyes. “This is spring/summer.”
“What do I know.”
“Very little,” Stan said, but he was teasing.
“We’ll take it,” Ben said to the smiling sales girl. “And the shoes, and that dress thing, and whatever else he wants.”
“Of course.”
“Ben—”
Ben raised an eyebrow, knowing for sure he wanted to do this. He wanted to do something nice for Stan. “You bought me clothes when we got here. I’m just returning the favour.”