Reluctant thief Baz Barret is tasked with stealing from the formidable archaeologist Rei Collingwood--who happens to also be his college crush and rival--but when Rei goes missing after the burglary, Baz must find her before he's blamed for her disa...
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Chapter Six: The Miserable
Baz was quickly running out of nice clothes.
His wardrobe was, for obvious reasons, mostly black. If it wasn't black, it was athletic. If it wasn't black or athletic, it was denim.
It wasn't as if Jasper's fat envelopes of money couldn't pay for a full wardrobe... Baz just had what he needed, though being on Jasper's payroll had contributed to about a million different pairs of shoes, including his split toes and cycling shoes and his barely-there, can-hardly-call-them-shoes shoes.
"I always thought escorts would have better taste," Diego said.
"I have good taste," Baz insisted, but if that were 100% true, he wouldn't have dragged Diego out in the first place. Diego didn't have the same approach to life that Baz took. Even just standing in the middle of the store in the middle of the mall, three of the sales associates had come over to make sure they were finding everything alright, letting their eyes rove over Diego a little too long.
He might've been looking at his phone most of the time, barely looking up to nod, but maybe that was part of the endearment. How would they react if he actually made eye contact?
In the brief instant Baz noted two of them lurking half-hidden behind a mannequin, there was a flicker of envy. Diego made it look easy. Usually Baz found it more amusing, just not on a day when the face of Angelix by De Saunier told him to wait for her call.
"You have shit taste. You order clothes off of Amazon based on reviews," Diego barely looked up from his phone to give Baz a judgmental eyebrow raise.
Diego was right on at least one account, but that method had served Baz well.
"Whatever. I thought you'd be more helpful," Baz said, but maybe it was less about actually needing help and more about distracting the sales associates so they wouldn't notice as Baz floundered through menswear like Tarzan trying on real clothes for the first time.
He grabbed a couple hangers off the racks, reminding himself to double check the sizes before he accidently took an extra large. He threw a pair of dress pants over his arm.
"Are you going to try anything on?" Diego asked and by his tone, Baz guessed the only correct answer was yes.
On cue, a blonde in a sharp blazer popped out from whatever hiding place she'd been admiring Diego. "Do you need a fitting room?"
"Yup," Diego answered before Baz could say another word. Baz offered her an expression somewhere between a grin and gritted teeth. What difference would a fitting room make if he didn't really have that great an idea of what made for a good fit? It was best to just get it done.
Halfway into looking less like regular bruises-and-parkour Baz and more like Europe-touring Baz, his phone rang from his jeans, hanging by a belt loop off a hook. He fumbled for it.
