He left the address and phone number of the hotel where he was planning to stay. We briefly discussed what I needed to know to run the store and made arrangements to talk the following day. We had talked every day since I moved to Las Vegas, even if our conversations sometimes were shorter than the length of time it took one of us to answer the phone.
Scouting out costumes had always been my dad’s favorite part of running the store: meeting with people who owned costumes and learning the history of the garments. We had a few collectibles in our inventory and they rented for top dollar. Sometimes the items were in too sad of a state to be worn, but he’d either repair them—people called it “the Jerry Touch”—or use them as templates to make copies. He taught me to sew using a damaged clown costume as a template, which explains why we had a surplus of clowns in our inventory.
I started the day the way I always did, with a smoothie for breakfast. I dumped almond milk, yogurt, a banana, and a few glugs of orange juice into the blender. After adding a scoop of protein powder, I hit liquefy. The resulting product was healthy, plus it matched my outfit.
I poured the smoothie into a glass and carried it downstairs and outside. The thing about Proper City weather was that it was always hot and always dry. The thermometer hit the eighties in April and climbed to over a hundred in the summer. One hundred degrees in a dry climate wasn’t the same as one hundred degrees in a humid climate. Sunscreen was essential, as was water, but a constant breeze kept it comfortable. We rarely had to use the air conditioner, and most days I could shape my thick hair into a flip with my fingers and let it air-dry. Today was a typical hot, dry August day.
Before I had a chance to finish my smoothie, Blitz’s friend Grady walked into the store. The bright sun illuminated his copper hair. He flashed a megawatt smile, much like the one Blitz had used on me yesterday. I didn’t trust men with megawatt smiles. They were a dime a dozen at the casinos and it usually meant they were about to ask you for something not defined in the employee handbook.
“I hope you didn’t lose too much sleep over Blitz,” Grady said. “He really tied one on last night. Pretty sure he’s still sleeping it off.”
“Is that a regular habit?”
“Sometimes the guy likes to blow off steam. Besides, he’s still jealous because he can’t outdo my party.” Things were beginning to make sense. “We weren’t formally introduced yesterday. Grady O’Toole,” he said, extending his hand. “Sherlock Holmes enthusiast, hustle expert, and best friend to the spoiled rich guy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite a combo.”
“I’m quite a guy.”
Where did these guys get their self-assurance? I needed an Annie Oakley outfit to make me feel like I was somebody special.
“You look different than you did yesterday,” he said.
“Yesterday I went mod. Today I went Western.”
“Is that a regular habit?”
“Sometimes a girl likes to change things up,” I said, more playfully than I’d intended.
“I bet you always get your man too.”
Heat climbed up my face. “Did you have any luck convincing Blitz about the party?”
Grady looked disappointed at my change of subject. “That’s why I’m here. Blitz was embarrassed about how he treated you after you did so much work.”
Blitz Manners hadn’t impressed me as the type to get embarrassed about the way he treated people, but I saw no benefit to accusing Grady of lying on his friend’s behalf.
“So you’re here to smooth things over?” I asked.
“I’m here because Blitz asked me to buy the whole lot.”
I glanced at the rack of costumes and did some quick math in my head. Costumes usually rented for $150 each, with $50 of the deposit being refunded when the costume was returned in good shape. That left $100 a costume for us. Forty costumes at $100 rentals would be $4,000, with a possible two grand more if the costumes came back damaged—which I suspected they might. Not bad for a day’s work.
But to buy them? I didn’t know what to quote. Our income came with repeat rentals. One costume could be rented over and over and earn us thousands of dollars minus the cost of cleaning. Blitz’s had said that the $20,000 was supposed to get us started, but $500 a costume would take up the whole amount. Ebony would have nothing left to offset the costs of the party execution. If I cut the price by much less than $500, I’d be giving away potential long-term profits, not only of the costumes we’d assembled, but also the ones we’d pillaged to come up with these so quickly.
“Once costumes are sold, they’re nonreturnable. Rentals are for five days, which would get you through the weekend. They’d have to come back on Sunday. Would you rather do that? Blitz won’t be out as much if he doesn’t have the party.”
“Nope.” He pulled a black Amex out of his billfold and handed it to me.
“Don’t you want to know the price first?”
“Not necessary. I’ll square it with Blitz’s stepdad. Present for Blitz.”