Free All About Yves by Ryan Field Page A

penthouse. He'd kept the wall because he'd like the retro seventies feel it gave the room. But his tastes had changed, and he was tired of looking at himself in the mirror everywhere he walked in his bedroom. There were times, lately, when he caught an accidental glance of his face and he shuddered. He wasn't accustomed to looking into the mirror and seeing a man in his thirties. He was used to seeing a man in his twenties, with clear skin, no lines in his forehead, and bright eyes. Somehow it seemed as if he'd made the transition from youth to adulthood overnight and no one had prepared him for it.
    He was wearing last year's tuxedo, the one he'd already worn to the Rendell Vista Awards. He turned sideways and frowned at his image. There were faint dark circles beneath his eyes because he'd been up late working on his household hints book again. No one else would notice the circles, but he knew they were there. Five years earlier he could have gone out for the entire night and his eyes would have been young and vibrant the next day. He felt tired, too. There was a kink in his neck from researching on the computer in one position for too long. He turned in the other direction and sighed. He'd only worn this tuxedo twice, and it fit his trim, firm body to perfection. But he'd been looking forward to wearing one of Frazier's new formal designs that night. He'd planned his entire look around the black silk tie with tiny platinum dots that were only noticeable up close.
    Little details, like wearing the same tuxedo more than once or twice mattered to Marco. He was in the public eye, and he was aware people judged him by the way he looked, not the way he felt. And that vicious Harris Wolfe would be at the party tonight. The nasty old Upper East Side queen was always looking for something to critique in his fashion magazine. Once, by mistake, Marco had walked down a runway during fashion week in New York and his zipper had been down. No one saw his private parts; his jacket had kept everything well covered. But Harris had had a huge laugh in his next column at Marco's expense, and all Marco could do was smile and laugh with him. Harris seemed to enjoy writing the nasty comments in his column more than the nice comments.
    Marco knew he had made a huge error that day. He should have sent Jane Francis to the showroom to pick up his new tuxedo instead of Yves. An hour earlier, when Yves had knocked on his bedroom door carrying the garment bag, with that perpetual loyal smile on his face, Marco had a feeling something was wrong. When Marco opened the garment bag, while Yves stood there watching him, he pressed his palm to his open mouth.
    "What is this?” Marco asked. He stared at a bright yellow suit, with ruffled sleeves and peg-legged slacks. The shirt was orange and the tie was red. It was one of Frazier's experimental designs and was not meant to be worn in public. Frazier often experimented with different fabrics and colors, creating outrageous artistic designs, only to tone them down and edit them for more practical garments at a later date.
    "I don't know, Marco,” Yves said. “This is what the assistant in the showroom handed me. He was a young guy with bushy brown hair. He was very busy. I'll go right back and see what happened. I'm so, so sorry. I know how important this party is to you. I know how you've been looking forward to it. This is a terrible mix-up."
    Marco closed his eyes and shook his head, controlling his temper. “Don't bother, Yves,” he said. “There isn't time now, and the showroom is getting ready to close for the day. And I don't want to keep anyone waiting to go home on my account. They work hard there, and they are good people. I'll just wear something else."
    "I'm so sorry, Marco, I feel just awful about this."
    "Why should you feel awful?” Marco said. “It's not as if you did it on purpose. It wasn't your fault. Why don't you go get ready for the party now?"
    When Yves left the room, Marco