““Forty percent off. Come on, Ella, it's a sign." "Yeah. 'Stop.'" I took the sweater from his hands and holded it neatly into thirds. "Truth or Truth?" He propped a hip on the edge of the display table. "Shoot." "WHo are you dressing me for? I mean, really? The three nonrelated men playing any part whatsoever in my life right now are, and I will use your terms here, the spawn of Society Hell, dead as the spat, and queer as a football bat." "Very poetic." "Bite me." "Wrong man," Frankie drawled. "That would be the inclination of the hell spawn." I bared my teeth. "So,who,Frankie? Who is this for?" I waved the sweater. "I just don't get it." "I know,Grasshopper," he said sadly, "I know." I blinked at him. "Where-" That's as far as I got. Sadie had come out of the dressing room.””
