Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

her. »– their friend. I’ve told them we simply can’t help them, we don’t have anything –«
    »Nonsense,« said the owner, not missing a beat. »You are a big one, sweetie. What size are you? That’ll save us time.«
    »One hundred thirty-seven,« said Chlo, after giving it some thought.
    »Oh, we don’t use European sizes in this country, dear.«
    »She’s from New Jersey,« I interrupted. »Needs something for an evening event. Nothing fancy, just nice. Within reason. Better than nice. Know what I mean?«
    Even if she didn’t, she’d have never let on. »Oh, sure,« she said, taking out a tape measure and wrapping around Chlo’s various attributes. »Usual trouble areas don’t really present a problem,« she said. »Problem’s not height but your width, dear. Your shoulders and arms are somewhat oversized –« The sales girl made a barely noticeable expression, and sent up some kind of enigmatic retail smoke signal. »May I speak frankly for a moment?«
    »Shoot,« I said.
    »The lady is a lady, isn’t she?«
    I wasn’t sure what to tell her, and looked to my lovely little one. »Chlo,« Eulie said. »Denude.« With a long single zip, Chlo opened her jumpsuit and stepped out, sliding it over her gloves and boots. Since she wasn’t wearing underpants, and favoured a close shave down in Happyland, it was obvious right away which side of the fence she’d landed on. Her basic structure was hourglass, kind of, though it turned out her spectacular fore and aft were to some degree artificially enhanced by her outerwear. No matter; what got me was that from the scars on her neck, between the metal bra holding her casabas, all the way down to the honey pot, there was what looked like a flesh-coloured plate. It would have looked like the bottom of a turtle shell if a turtle shell was made of telephone plastic. Her skin was puckered along its edges like it had been glued on. Sticking out of her bra were two metal nozzles right where the nipples were – I guessed – and then I remembered those little bumbershoots she’d used on Romeo, first night I saw her. Her legs and arms looked like they’d had some work done as well, but there they’d used chrome steel to fill her out. She wouldn’t rust, at least.
    »Judas Fucking Iscariot.« The owner probably meant to whisper, but didn’t quite pull it off. »What happened to you, honey?«
    Our naked glamazon just blinked.
    »Car wreck,« I said. »Touch and go for awhile. Complete success, under the circumstances. Modern medicine’s a miracle, isn’t it?«
    »Dear, let’s get you covered,« said the owner, suddenly conscious of the scene any new customer would encounter, walking in; she helped Chlo pull her suit back up.
    »So what’s the verdict?« I asked.
    »Frances,« she said to the sales girl, who was standing behind the counter. If there was a bat back there I’m sure she was ready and willing to grab it. »That shipment from Hawaii. The island wear for summer. I think we can work something out.«
     
    »This essentials?« Chlo peeped, growling at me. »We’re still observed,« Eulie said. »Not as much,« I said. »Trust me, it’s better than it was.« The owner had taken two muumuus, as she called them – one with pink and green flowers, the other with green and blue – and in no time at all her gals in the back managed to put the two together, kind of. Colours clashed a little but I’ve seen worse off the rack, especially on hayseeds. Her new frock hung down to her boots – you could still see their sharp metal pointy toes, but only if you looked for them – and they’d wrapped a long blue scarf around her neck. She insisted on wearing her jumpsuit underneath, but it only showed on the arms. We were still getting rubberneckers, true, but not as many as before. I still wasn’t sure how she’d go over that night, and figured when the time came with luck she’d be willing to dawdle in the lobby.
    »Believe me, you’re dressed to kill,« I said.
    »Always,« Chlo said.
    »Weren’t we there?« Eulie asked, pointing across Columbus toward the Natural History Museum.
    »Yeah, in the park,« I said, remembering that night, that kiss, those frogs. »You never have said where you went. I looked all over –«
    »That museum. I minored zoology,« she said. »It’s seeable?«
    Not my favourite place in town; not by a long shot. »You’d like to see it?« She smiled, and any resistance I might have offered melted away like dew. »Just