Alan reached out a tentative hand to touch the fabric. The sales associate at the tuxedo rental store was right. It felt great.
“How much is this one?”
“Oh, let’s see here, you said just a one day rental?”
Alan nodded. “Technically I just need it for the night.”
“Oh, well, aren’t you cute. We don’t rent by the hour so it’ll have to be a day. Going to a dance?”
Alan nodded at the energetic sales associate. He was about Alan’s height, wearing a skintight suit with a nametag that read, “Enrique.”
“Three hundred and fifty-seven.”
Alan looked confused for a second, then thought he realized where the misunderstanding had occurred. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I said ‘rent.’ I don’t want to buy it. I just need it for a few hours.”
Enrique shook his head, his thickly gelled hair not swaying the slightest bit. “No, sweetie, aren’t you too cute. That is the rental price for the day.”
Alan’s mouth went dry. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“I’m sorry. For the last few weeks, we’ve been all but sold out. With the school dance coming up, I mean, my guess is that would be the reason we’re so low on inventory. If you’d like, I can call around to see if any of our stores in the surrounding area have anything.”
Alan shook his head. He knew going to another location now would mean he’d be late for the dance. “No, no, it’s okay,” Alan said, forcing the words out through a clenched jaw. The tuxedo would almost deplete his savings from his summer job. Still, he’d come this far. The words “I’ll take it” came out slow and painful.
“Oh, well, you’re making a great choice, sir. I know it seems a bit expensive, but the quality is superb, and you can be sure that everyone else will be looking at you.”
“Great.”
“If you have your card, I’ll ring you up. Did you want to put it on now? You’re more than welcome to use our changing room.”
Alan looked up at a large clock on the store’s wall. “Yeah, I’d better.”
Alan dug into his pocket. He handed his bankcard to Enrique, making himself think about anything besides the amount of days he’d had to work to earn this piece of clothing he’d wear for only a few hours.
Enrique directed him to a dressing room before he left to ring up Alan’s order.
Alan had no idea that a tuxedo had so many parts. It seemed, by the minute, like there were more items to figure out where to put. Socks and shoes were simple. Things like trying to tie the bow tie and how exactly to place the cummerbund were more of a challenge.
“All rung up, sir,” Enrique’s voice sounded through the thin dressing room curtain. “Do you need any help?”
Panic rose in Alan’s chest. “No, no, I’m fine just trying to figure out this bow tie. It’s like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube.”
“Here, let me help.” Enrique pulled back the curtain without showing the slightest pause, and before Alan could protest, the tuxedo shop worker’s fingers were flying around Alan’s bow tie like a trained professional.
“There,” Enrique said, taking a step back. “Very secret agent, sir, if I do say so myself.”
Alan, still recovering from the curtains being drawn back, took a look at himself in the mirror. It was true. His usual tall and lanky build had been totally transformed by the tuxedo. The material made him look suave and important, complimenting his height while at the same time masking his lack of muscle. Alan stood back, stunned. Maybe he’d made the right decision tonight, after all.
“Well, better hurry,” Enrique said, handing Alan the receipt that held far too many digits. “You don’t want to miss your hair appointment.”
“Hair appointment?”
“Um… yeah. You can’t go to the dance looking like that.”
Alan examined his hair in the mirror. His straight, dark blond locks fell to his shoulders. He hadn’t even thought about getting a haircut.
Enrique took Alan’s silence in stride. “Trust me, a tuxedo like that deserves a haircut to match. My cousin, Hector, works right next door. Tell him cousin Estar sent you and he’ll hook you up.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh, child, you came to the right place. I just got off the phone with Enrique, and don’t worry, the haircut won’t cost as much as the tux.”
Alan nodded, doing the math in his head, trying to figure out how much money he had left. Hector was the spitting image of Enrique; the two looked like they could be twins. “Okay, how much is it?”
“I’ll do you right, since my cousin sent you over. Let’s say forty dollars, but you have to promise not to go around and tell people that. Why, if my other clients knew I was handing out haircuts for that price—” Hector waved a dismissive hand at the thought. “Well, I’d be out of business in a week.”
Alan nodded, doing the math in his head again. He’d be out of money almost to the dollar.
It’ll be worth it; it’ll all be worth it.
“Come now, I understand you’re in a hurry for a dance. But don’t worry. Being fashionably late is still in style. And by the time I’m done with you, people will wait for your arrival to start the party.”
Hector snapped his fingers with a headshake and directed Alan to a seat. Alan allowed Hector to place a cape around him, tightened at the neck. The bright lights and hyperactive chatter from the other patrons in the hair salon made Alan feel anything except at ease.
Alan’s hair grew slowly. This, combined with the fact that Alan didn’t mind long hair, meant he only visited a barber a few times year. When he did get a cut, it was only because Tony insisted. Tony would provide him with a few dollars, and he’d make his way to a small mom-and-pop shop, which usually meant a nick or two on the ear.
Hector jawed on about dances and how well Alan would be received, as his fingers flew over Alan’s hair like his cousin’s did while tying the bow tie.
Alan smiled as the hairdresser chatted away, though his attention was elsewhere. As the time for the dance grew closer, Alan began second-guessing himself, and his hands began to perspire on the smooth metal of the styling chair.
What if you’re wrong? What if you’re doing all of this just to stand in the corner by yourself all over again?
Alan started to zone out as the familiar fear and doubt began to take over his once-positive outlook. Ironically, it was Hector’s voice that made him stop.
“Come on now, we have to wash and style your hair.”
Alan looked up at the mirror in front of him just as Hector ran to block his view.
“No—no peeking now. We’re just about done. Follow me.”
Alan obeyed, following the hyperactive hairdresser to the washing basin. He sat in the leather, recliner-like chair, laying his head back for Hector.
The salon attendant chattered on while he used generous helpings of shampoo and conditioner.
“Nervous?”
Alan looked up at Hector’s smiling face. “Why would you say that?”
“Um… well, let’s see. You’ve hardly said a word while you’ve been here, you look like you’re going to bore a hole through whatever you’re looking at, and I saw the sweat marks on my chair when you got up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize. I’m just asking if you’re nervous. First dance?”
“Yeah, I mean, I am nervous, and yes, it is my first dance.”
Hector dried his hair and instructed Alan to follow him back to the styling seat. He stood in front of Alan, blocking his view in the mirror. “Don’t worry. We’ve all been there. Be confident and know that you look great. The tuxedo is perfect and…” Hector’s voice trailed off as he mixed a small amount of gel into Alan’s hair. “And your hair—if I do say so myself—looks amazing.”
Hector stepped back, taking off the long apron covering Alan’s suit. Alan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t recognize the person looking back at him with an open mouth.
Al
an had always had either long hair or hair in the process of becoming long. Hector had cut his hair short, with a style that pushed the top forward. The front was combed up and to the side. “What do you think?”
“I … I—”
“Good. That’s the response I was looking for. Now come on, Cinderella, you’re going to be late for the ball.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alan patted the pocket that held his wallet as he thought of all of the money spent for the few hours he’d be at the dance. All of the money, and all of the trouble he’d be in when he got home.
He drove carefully, making double certain to follow all street signs. It was dark now, and as Alan turned a corner, he saw the parking lot to his school. It was already full, with the last dance attendees making their way into the school’s large gymnasium.
Alan took in a long breath as he pulled into the school’s parking lot. More than one eye caught sight of the sleek, black car, and people stopped to see who would exit. He glanced at himself in the car’s rearview mirror one more time.
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. It’s like pulling off a Band-Aid. Just get out of the car.
But he couldn’t. He wanted to, so very desperately, but fear and angst had dominated his resolve once again. He looked through the car’s dark-tinted windows at the groups of students who’d come to admire the vehicle.
“Ah… this is ridiculous. Get out of the car, ALAN.” He’d hoped by talking to himself out loud it would help. It didn’t.
Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Those who’d stopped to admire the car began to walk away with confused looks as they headed for the gym doors and the music that could be heard playing inside.
Chaperones walked the perimeter, monitoring against any underage drinking. Alan looked at one of the adults in particular and was shocked to see Dr. Larson dressed in a modest, black dress, saying “hello” to students as they passed by.
Dr. Larson only visited the school once a week to meet with her patients. Since Alan’s high school had so many students in need of psychiatric care, Dr. Larson had volunteered to make the trip, instead of making the students travel individually to her office in the heart of the city. In return, the school allowed her use of the receptionist and an office of her own.
Before Alan could stop himself, he reached for the car door handle and opened the door, then forced his legs to step out. The night was cool, and a breeze had begun to blow. Alan ignored all of the looks from his classmates. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on the doctor and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
Dr. Larson looked at him and smiled. Then she really looked at him, and an expression of shock and realization crossed her face. “Alan? Alan, is that you? You came!”
Alan might have been worried or offended, had it not been for the smile that next crossed her face. He beamed with pride at her words.
“Yes … well … I thought about what you said. About how I could actively do something, and I decided to take your advice.”
“Well, I’m so glad you did.”
Alan stood, smiling, looking up at the woman with whom he’d met once a week for the past few months. In a weird kind of way, she was his only friend, or at the very least, the person who came closest to being a friend. Music blared from inside the gymnasium and students ran up the few steps, eager to be inside, but Alan thought he could stand and talk to the doctor for the rest of the night, if given the opportunity.
“Oh, where’s your boutonnière?”
“Who? Oh, I don’t have a date.”
The doctor smiled. “No, the flower that goes on your coat.”
Alan mentally kicked himself. It was not only too late, but he was also out of money for the flower he could only guess would be expensive. As more students passed inside, Alan noticed all of the male attendees with bright-colored blossoms matching their date’s attire.
“Oh … I … guess I forgot. I don’t have one.”
Dr. Larson didn’t miss a beat. Reaching over the short railing that ran parallel with the steps leading into the gymnasium, she plucked a white rose from the bush. Producing a pin from her hair, she motioned Alan forward.
“You see? If you’re willing to take a leap of faith, things will begin to work out.” She said this as she pressed the flower to Alan’s jacket and placed the pin perfectly, anchoring the rose to his jacket.
Alan could feel the blood rush to his face. The doctor’s soft touch against his chest made him clear his throat and swallow as if it were some kind of allergic reaction.
“There you go, Alan. You look great.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, don’t start getting cold feet now. You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you. Now get inside and have some fun.
Chapter Fifteen
The gymnasium was decorated from floor to ceiling in yellow, green, blue, and pink, and Alan couldn’t help thinking that Dr. Seuss had been employed to make the event come to life. Despite Alan’s own misgivings about the décor, everyone seemed to be having a great time. A live band on stage covered the latest hits, and tables set up with refreshments and balloons lay across the gym floor in every direction.
Alan stood by himself, soaking in the scene. It wasn’t something he’d dwelt on for any length of time, but once or twice before he’d wondered what a school dance looked like. Now he knew.
“Hey, was that your car? The Benz?”
Alan gave a start and turned to see who’d spoken to him. Her name was Amber Jacobson, she was Alan’s grade, and tonight she was wearing a short, pink dress with a plunging neckline.
“Um… yeah, well, it’s borrowed, but I drove it here.”
“Nice car. You look familiar. Do I know you? Do you go to school here?”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m Alan.”
Amber stared back at him with a blank look.
“Alan Price. We’ve both gone to this school since we were freshmen.”
No look of recognition crossed the young blonde’s face. She shrugged, then waved to someone behind him. “Oh, okay. Well, cool car. I’m gonna go catch up with my friends, but maybe we can take a spin sometime or hangout later tonight.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Amber was gone in the next few seconds, running in her high heels to catch up with a group of girls who may as well have been her clones.
Alan stood shocked. He hadn’t even been to the dance for a full minute before a girl had approached him for the very first time, ever.
Is this really how easy it is? Are expensive clothes and an expensive haircut all I needed to be noticed?
Alan kicked himself for not trying anything like this before. For the first time in a very long while, Alan felt good—no, he felt great! In place of the depression and anger was a sense of accomplishment. Even if it turned out he sat by himself for the rest of the night, he’d done enough. That small exchange with Amber was more pleasant socializing than he’d done with anyone that entire month. And, she had approached him.
Alan couldn’t help smiling as he walked to the punch bowl and poured himself a glass of the red sugar water. He wasn’t even thirsty, but it seemed like the thing to do next. The drink touched his lips, then ran down his throat, making his taste buds pucker at its sweetness.
The lights in the gymnasium were dimmed, with a classic disco ball sending tiny rays of light in every direction. While Alan was getting ready to leave the refreshment table, he noticed Jennifer Richardson and Brent Carson approaching with their clique of cheerleaders and jocks.
In a heartbeat, all of Alan’s good feelings were gone. His hands started to sweat as the group looked at him with confused expressions, then stared open-mouthed. Brent was the first to speak. “Alan, is that you?”
Alan couldn’t bring his dry throat to say a word, so he nodded instead.
“Oh my gosh, dude, what happened to you?”
“I decided to come to the dance.” Alan hated how his voice squeaked out th
e response.
“Yeah, I can see that. Who are you here with?”
“Nobody.”
“Come on, Brent,” Jennifer said, giving Alan a look of surprise while leading her boyfriend away with a gentle tug. “You said you were going to get me something to drink.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m just tripping out on this nerd right now. You do realize you’re still a loser, right, Price? Fancy clothes and a haircut won’t change that. You know you’re nothing; you’re less than nothing.”
Alan will never know what came over him in that moment. Maybe it was all the sugar in his punch. Maybe he was still high on the feeling Amber gave him when she’d initiated a conversation. Or maybe it was all the years of ridicule and belittlement he’d endured. Whatever it was, it pushed Alan over the edge. “You get off on making fun of other people. I’m not sure why. Maybe you honestly think you’re better than everybody else is. I think maybe deep down inside you’re insecure. Does it make you feel better about yourself as a human being to degrade other people?”
The entire group, including Alan, stood stunned. The band still played on in the background, but all attention was on Alan and Brent. More and more students stopped to watch, at first shocked to see Alan Price at the dance, then eager to see what the confrontation was about.
Brent’s face started to turn red, a single vein bulging out of his neck, ready to pop through his skin.
Alan didn’t remember the first fist, but he did feel the second, third, and fourth as he regained consciousness. Brent Carson was on top of him, raining down blows to his head and upper body. Alan did his best to shield his face, but the impact of each blow penetrated any defense Alan could put between him and his attacker.
Soon, Brent’s buddies joined in, sending kicks that collided with Alan’s ribs and legs. Laughs, shouts, and screams could be heard over the noise now. Looking back, Alan would remember that night in a haze, except for the part that came next.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 4
