A Smudge of Gray by Jonathan Sturak Read Free Book Online Page B

shopping bag. “Who wants ice cream?” she asked.
    “I do! I do!” Katie and Kevin shouted as
they darted toward their mom.
    Laura’s eyes widened as she shook her
head with a smirk. Trevor shrugged as he looked at his spoiled kids.
    “Do you need to do any more shopping,
honey?” he asked.
    “Yeah, I need to get some new bedding
for the kids. They always seem to stain the comforters from jumping with their
soiled feet.” Laura looked at the culprits peering inside her bag. “Isn’t that
right?”
    “Ice cream! Ice cream!” they ignorantly
replied.
    “I’ll take them for ice cream. Did you
need anything?” Laura asked.
    “I’d like to browse some of the new fall
fashions in Saks,” Trevor replied.
    “Okay. We’ll meet up with you.” Laura
put her arms around the twins and walked them to the food court.
    Trevor turned toward the department
store behind him—Saks Fifth Avenue. He strolled with his hands behind his back
as he passed through the bustle of shoppers. He sauntered by a bookstore where a
bookstand displaying a narrative about a psychopath made him chuckle. The
chatter swirling under the hundred-foot ceiling quickly faded to a muffled hum
as he entered the store. Gone were the parents with the word “GAP” scribbled on
the tag of their shirts; the single crowd wearing Gucci and D&G roamed the
store.
    The men’s section caught Trevor’s attention
as he cut through the cosmetics. Trevor patted a cashmere sweater, searching for
his favorite designer. As he passed the shirts embroidered with alligators, he
found the familiar pattern that he craved. Trevor eyed a tan-colored windbreaker
with the Burberry print lining its collar. He removed it from its hook and let
the light yet protective fabric envelop him.
    “Every man looks great in
Burberry,” a slippery female voice said.
    Trevor turned and saw the cleavage of a
saleswoman smiling at him. The tall college-aged woman slinked his way and
fixed the back of his collar.
    “Well, the tradition never changes,” he
said.
    “Why don’t you put it on your Saks card?”
    “I like it, but I already have a
Burberry trench coat,” Trevor countered as he nodded at himself in the mirror.
He saw several strands of hair lying opposite his part. Trevor fixed himself.
    “This would be great for those cool fall
mornings on the way to the gym. You obviously must work out.”
    “You’re a good saleswoman, but I don’t
think I’ll go for it,” Trevor replied as he removed the jacket and placed it
back on its hanger. “Now, if you have some loafers, I may go for that.”
    “Oh, we actually do. Right over here.”
    The saleswoman trekked toward a display
table as Trevor eagerly followed. As he passed a collection of scarves, the
saleswoman gestured toward a choice of shoes. “Here we are.”
    He passed over a black dress shoe as the
woman grabbed a tan leather loafer with her French-manicured nails. Trevor
licked his lips as he held the crafted footwear in his hands. He studied the
gripping sole, delicate stitching, and Burberry-patterned lining.
    “Now this I like.”
    “We just got those in. They are new in
the fall collection. One hundred percent calfskin leather.”
    “Excellent, the very best a shoe can be
made from,” Trevor said as he stroked the supple leather.
    “But too bad they have to kill a baby
calf,” the woman said with an exaggerated frown.
    “Technically, you don’t need the word baby .
Calf already implies it.”
    “It’s just so sad.”
    “Hey, everything in this world must die
sooner or later. That’s just the business of life,” Trevor preached. He looked
at the shoe again and nodded. “I’d like to try this on. Size eleven.”
    “You’re a big man,” she said, winking.
“I’ll be right back.”
    The saleswoman trotted away. Trevor
returned the shoe to its spot on the display stand. He crept through the aisle
and studied the more ostentatious line of apparel—tartan-patterned hats, ties,
and even sunglasses.