“Wow,” she muttered when she saw the man who was talking to Leon. Leon had a great eye for people and was a master at keeping scruffy, drunk, or loud people out of the store. The man Leon was talking to was none of these. He was beautifully dressed, six feet tall, and well built. Tyra wasn't an expert on men's suits, but she knew enough to see that it was expensive. Leon pointed to Tyra, and she watched as the man walked toward her. When he got closer, she saw the dreamiest emerald green eyes. She inadvertently adjusted her hair and checked to see if her blouse was tucked into her skirt.
“Hi. I have an appointment. My name is Dima Asakov. I'm looking for some jewelry for my mother's birthday.”
“Certainly, sir.” Although she had never seen him before, he was obviously one of the store's high net worth individuals. Very rich people were allowed to make an appointment, during which they got VIP treatment. Why don't you pamper me instead of your mother? she thought. I could use it right now. She was quick to chastise herself for being unprofessional.
He noted her features with interest. Black, beautiful, tall, thin, lovely curves, perfect breasts, and beautiful face. His mother always said it was the sign of a classy man when the man kept eye contact with a woman despite the size of her breasts. Whenever he met a woman, he reminded himself of this. Most days it was easy, but today it required Herculean effort.
“Follow me, Mr. Asakov.” The VIP suite was the most comfortable place Tyra had ever been in, but it lacked atmosphere. It wasn't used nearly as often these days. The financial crisis had seen to that.
“Please take a seat,” she said. He chose the sofa. In the room, there were two armchairs and a sofa. Made of velvet, they were red, which gave the room a regal feel. Radley had spent a small fortune getting the lighting right. The ceiling was dotted with tiny spotlights, but around the sales table they were larger. The sales table was a small glass affair between the sofa and the armchairs, just a coffee table really. Radley had been advised that displaying jewelry in a homely setting would lead to more sales.
“I'm Tyra. It's lovely to meet you. Tell me about your mother, about what kind of woman is she.” Tyra was the only sales assistant who bothered asking questions about the intended recipient. She thought it allowed her to make better choices on behalf of the clients.
“Yes. Where shall I start?”
“Well, how old is she?”
“She's twenty-two years older than me,” he said.
“Thirty-eight then,” she said, playing his own game.
He laughed. “That would make me sixteen. “No. She's forty-nine.” Twenty-seven, Tyra calculated instantly.
“Sorry, I know it's a lot to ask, but can you tell me what color eyes and hair she has? Is her skin light or dark?”
“She's got blond hair, like mine, and her skin color is the same. Her eyes? Do you know, it's amazing how you think you know somebody so well and still don't know things like eye color.” He looked embarrassed. “Is it very important?”
She nodded. “Have you got a sister?” He nodded. “Call her; she'll know.” After a very short conversation in Russian, he hung up.
“Green,” he said. “Do you know what color eyes your mother has?” When her eyes dropped, he felt awkward. “Sorry. It's none of my business.”
“She's dead. But most black people have brown eyes, so it's not so difficult in my case. How much do you want to spend today?”
“My budget is five hundred thousand.” He said it without flinching, as if it was the kind of impulse buy mothers made to pacify their whining kids at the supermarket checkout.
“Great. Well thank you for choosing Samuels. I hope we can find you just what you're looking for.” Tyra smiled at him. It wasn’t the usual friendly smile she reserved for people she liked, but the smile she hadn't used since she had fallen in love with her English teacher when she was sixteen.
“Of course, if you really want to make me happy, you can sell me the Hope Diamond at a knockdown price,” he jested.
“I would, but it won't be here for a few weeks,” she quipped. They both laughed. There was a silence as they looked at each other. It was one of those settling looks that left the participants at ease with each other. “Where did you read we are hosting the Hope Diamond?”
“It was in the New York Times. They wrote a fascinating story about the life of the diamond, who'd owned it and where it had traveled to. It's been worn by some of the most beautiful women in the world. It would look really good on you.”
He's looking at my breasts, she thought. Get some jewelry in front of him to look at. “All right, let’s get down to business. How about a matching necklace and earrings?” When he nodded, Tyra called security and got them to fetch the set Tyra herself admired more than anything in the store.
“So, tell me about yourself, Tyra,” he said. She could tell it was genuine interest, not just conversation filler.
“There isn't much to know really,” she said.
“That can't be true. I'm sorry if this embarrasses you, but you are very attractive. A woman like you must have a lot of stories to tell. I bet you get hit on every day.”
I do, she thought. In the subway, on the street, in restaurants, almost everywhere. “No, not really.”
“You're kidding me. In that case, the male population of New York must be blind.”