Chapter 9
There were shelves of multicolored pants, sweatshirts, t-shirts and other garments lined from the top to the bottom of each wall he looked at, a rainbow of colors ranging from light to dark shades of every color under the sun. He set his bag down by the sales counter and as he walked further into the store, he entered a large warehouse sized room with several manikins showing off several pieces that were put together in outfits to catch the eye of the consumer. The ceilings were lined with mirrors that reflected everything going on in that room. He watched as a young attractive woman walked toward him but didn’t look down at her until she stood before him.
“Bonsoir,” she said. “Puis-je vous aider à trouver quelque chose?”
“Hello. Do you speak English?”
“Oui,” she said smiling. “May I ‘elp you find something?” The woman was as petite as Helen was but he could tell right away she was much more grounded.
“I am looking for some outfits. Something casual for my stay here in Paris.”
She stepped back and looked at him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry but I do not think we ‘ave anything ‘ere for you.”
“You do, trust me. Jeans, basic t-shirt. Transform me into a common man,” he said, leaning toward her.
“You do not like dis?” she asked, holding her hand out toward his suit.
He shook his head and pursed his lips. “Too stuffy.”
They both chuckled and she led him into the first room he walked through. He followed her as she stopped at a t-shirt shelf pulling a few select colors from different areas. When she got to the blue jeans he noticed a few other sales associates were watching as she helped him find what he was looking for. She turned toward him and sized him up with her eyes, moving behind him then looking back up at him, her cheeks a little bit rosier than before. She reached for a pair of blue jeans and put them in his arms.
“Shoes?” she asked, pointing to his black dress shoes.
“Sneakers?”
She nodded and led him to another part of the store, selecting a pair of sneakers from a small selection available and stacking them on top of his clothes in his arms.
“Suivez-moi, s'il vous plait.” She motioned for him to follow her as she led him to the dressing rooms.
He tried on the selections made for him and to his surprise, everything fit him perfectly. He nodded at his image, impressed at the results. He hadn’t worn jeans in years. When he emerged from the dressing room, a small group of women were conjured around his dressing room awaiting the transformation. He held his hands out waiting for approval or disapproval. When they erupted in applause, he smiled and turned around.
“How do I look?” he asked the woman who helped him.
“Tres bon! Sexy. How you say… James Dean,” she exclaimed with pleasure. The other women nodded and swooned over him in his new clothes. “You like them?”
“I think so,” he said, looking in the mirror again. “How about a jacket? Maybe a few more jeans and some of those button-up shirts?”
The associate snapped to it, seemingly enjoying her job more so than usual. By the time he had left the store in a basic white t-shirt and dark stone washed blue jeans, almost every female associate was competing for his attention as he gathered his four bags that held the suit he arrived in and the merchandise he purchased. His entire purchase didn’t even come close to what one of his suit coats cost.
“Thank you ladies,” he said kissing his hand and sending it off through the air. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” He picked up his bag, walked out the door and looked around. “Vivienne, S'il vous plait?” he said to the taxi driver when he pulled up to the curb. He remembered Vivienne to be a part of the elite side of Paris.
The driver drove the streets toward a much richer part of the city and when Edward saw Ami, the boutique he took Sasha to and he leaned forward. “Can you let me out here, please?”
The driver pulled over and Edward handed him a fifty note. “Wait for me?”
“Oiu, monsieur.” He climbed out of the cab, leaving his things in the back and stood in front of the large front window. His reflection stared back at him before he walked in through the glass doors into the posh clothing store.
Looking around he noticed the familiar suits he had duplicates of in his own closet at home. As he thumbed through a few stacks of clothes on the shelves that lined the walls, he had a hard time getting an associate to help him as they all rushed to look busy when he tried getting their attention. He smirked as they glanced at him then quickly looked away. He walked into the store further noticing an attractive woman looking through the men’s trench coats. She was older, perhaps early forties, definitely married but he was guessing not faithfully. She had the aura of a woman who liked younger men.
The ultimate test.
He could have easily walked up to a woman like this, getting her attention without saying a word, without even trying and landing her in his bed that same afternoon.
“Excuse me, miss?” he said as he approached her, not holding back his attraction. He leaned into her and did everything he used to do to get the attention of a pretty woman. He had seen Joseph do it a million times too. A never-fail.
The woman looked at him with a smile that was lost as soon as she saw him. He wanted to believe she didn’t mean to look at him in the demeaning way she did. But to give it the test, he poured on the charm.
“I couldn’t help but notice you as soon as I walked into the room.”
“I’m sure you are looking for someone else.” She turned away from him and continued looking through the coats.
“I am only in Paris for a few days and I would love to have a beautiful woman such as yourself accompany me to dinner this evening.”
She looked at him as if he were a dirty man with holes in his clothes and turned away from him without saying a word.
“No strings,” he said still trying.
She moved away from him without looking back and started thumbing through trousers on a shelf nearby. When he finally gave up and walked away from her, she went back to the trench coats and continued what she was doing.
He stood there, a smile forming on his face as he looked around the store. This is perfect, he thought. He quickly walked back to the woman, threw his arms around her and hugged her. “Thank you!” He said before turning and walking briskly out of the store.
“What the….”
He looked back through the large front window and saw her standing in the same spot. He smiled as her eyes still followed him with her mouth gaping open. Two associates had rushed to her side, picking over her as if he had accosted her or told her an improper dirty joke. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he walked back to his waiting taxi cab.
“Shangri La Hotel, s'il vous plaît?”
The driver turned and looked at Edward. “Monsieur?”
He handed the driver another fifty note. “Oui, monsieur.”
The taxi driver pulled up in between two very long stretch limousines and waited for Edward to gather his things and close the door, but didn’t pull away until he watched him walk into the hotel as if he couldn’t believe such a common man could stay in such a lavish hotel.
Edward chuckled, enjoying his game of dress-up, or dress-down as it may. He checked into the hotel with several requests for identification and credit card checks until they realized how well off he was financially.
“Je suis désolé, monsieur.”
“I’m sorry. My French is rather rusty.”
“Ah, I apologise to you sir. Your attire es not to our standards ‘ere.”
“It’s okay. I am conducting somewhat of a study so I apologise as well.”
“Our concierge will assist you up to your room. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.”
He followed the concierge across the glassy floor made of marble and to the mirrored elevator doors. Once up and inside his room, the concierge opened the balcony doors that overlooked the city. He opened the bathroom door and bedroom door and waited for Edward to give the okay that he approved.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling a ten note from his wallet.
“If there is anything you need, please let me know.”
Once alone, he looked around the room and felt more normal. He thought about getting a room at a lower cost hotel, but didn’t want to change everything too drastically. Everything was the same champagne color from the carpet to the walls and the lavish bedding on the king-sized bed. Black onyx furniture with gold inlays accented the room beautifully as did the crystal lighting.
He opened his bags and took them out, leaving them in neat piles on the bed. He ordered room service to deliver a bottle of chilled champagne and cut fruit to his room by eight and grabbed his jacket before leaving his room for the rest of the day.
A limousine waited outside the hotel, but he opted to walk down the street until he could hail a cab. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself in his endeavors he had planned for the day.
The taxi driver took him past several upscale shopping boutiques and stores, past the bourgeois apartment blocks and out of the richer parts of Paris. They drove toward the outskirts of the city until the scenery started to change. It was still nice, but not so upscale or ritzy.
“Please let me out here,” he said, pulling his wallet out for the fare. He looked around and took a walk around the streets to introduce his new image to the world.
“Bonjour, ladies,” he said laying on the thick French accent as he passed two very beautiful women on the street.
They barely gave him a look as they continued their conversation in their native tongue.
He turned to watch them walk away from him, admiring their physique and wishing, at first, for a chance to get to know them. After a second thought, he realized these were the types of women he was trying to get away from.
“Have a good day,” he called out before turning around. He turned a corner and saw another lovely woman sitting alone on a single bench next to a small coffee shop. She held a book in her delicate fingers, her legs were crossed and a large hat covered most of her face. “Bonjour, mademoiselle.” He bowed before her and smiled.
The woman lowered her book and lifted her head to look up at Edward. “Bonjour,” she said without a smile. “Puis-je vous aider?”
He felt foolish for not knowing the language enough to make conversation, but he tried anyway. “Um, Vous êtes… um, ravissante.”
“Je vous remercie.” She got up from the bench and without another word she went into the coffee shop, leaving him standing there alone.
He rushed inside and quickly caught up to her as she went to the counter and ordered a café noir. “Pardon moi?”
The woman turned to him annoyed at the constant interruption and looked at him like he needed to be sent away. “Quelle?”
He pressed his lips together and tried to remember the French classes he took in college. He wanted to sound intelligent without sounding condescending, but he knew his new attire would never allow him to pull that off. He wanted to ask her out but sound sincere while doing it. “Voulez-vous voir… um, mon singe?”
She stepped back and gasped, slapping his face before turning away from him, leaving her coffee on the counter and walking out the door.
He covered his cheek that now felt like someone singed it with a hot iron and looked at the woman’s coffee. The barista stood on the other side of the counter, her eyebrow raised.
“I guess she didn’t like the coffee,” he said jokingly. He pulled his wallet and paid for the coffee. “Milk and sugar?”
The barista gave him a small tray with various condiments on it. “Ce sera tout?”
“Thank you. Je vous remercie.” He set the coffee on the tray and carried it to a table by the window. After setting it down, he rubbed his face, still feeling the sting of her slap, and looked around the little coffee shop. He caught two women watching him and giggling as he sat down. Each time he looked their way they would look at each other, whisper something to each other and giggle like school children. He wondered if they were flirting with him or if they were picking at him for his obvious display of failure in picking up a beautiful woman. He has definitely had a few firsts since his new transformation. He has never been turned down by so many women in a row, and he has never known what it felt like to have an inferiority complex. He decided to let it go for fear of another rejection.
I’m an idiot, he thought. I’m acting like a complete jackass, like a damned player, like… Joseph. This is completely wrong. Stirring his coffee with the smell of fresh cream swirling around the dark liquid, he stole another glance at the two women and noticed one of them flirting with him. He kept his eyes on her as he carefully sipped his coffee.
Her body language told him she wasn’t going to slap him if he talked to her. He just hoped she knew English. He got up and walked to them, trying to put the way he looks out of his head, trying to act like a man should act toward a woman, trying to act more like himself. He shoved his hands awkwardly into his back pockets and watched his feet walk closer to them.