After careful consideration, I decided to treat Hopeton to a shopping spree.
We grabbed a car service and rode out to Madison Avenue and 42nd Street, then just walked up and down until Hopeton had enough Egyptian cotton button downs, Harris tweed jackets, Italian leather belts, immaculate khakis and perfectly fitted wool trousers to last a lifetime.
We hit up Crockett and Jones for a couple of pairs of lace-up wing tips- one in midnight black and one in classic oxblood. At our last stop, Hopeton found the perfect wool felt driving cap in an understated shade of olive drab.
“This reminds me of my years in the English countryside,” he remarked.
“You lived in England?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, surprised that I was surprised. “For two years!”
I wanted to ask him if this was before or after his prison stint, but decided to not be an asshole for a change.
Shopping for formal-ish wear now out of the way, we walked a few blocks over to Nike Town and did some damage there.
Hopeton was happy and that made me feel a little less guilty forcing him to help me deal with this amorphous elevated face man mess Mundo had dumped on me.
“Okay, where do you want to go for dinner?” I asked once we exited Nike Town. “Should we stop by the Norwood?”
The Norwood turned out to be no big deal, really. It was basically a townhouse on West Fourteenth Street that some lady had decorated to look like a Park Slope stoop sale. I was able to put a hold on a small private parlor room for the night of my upcoming drinks thing with Filo and the other randoms. When they asked me how many guests would be in attendance, I said somewhere between five and fifteen. I gave them Mundo’s cell number and told them my assistant, Olmando, would be able to confirm.
Hopeton and I made our way upstairs for dinner and had a pretty decent meal. While we waited for our appetizers to arrive, a crazy feeling of “fuck it” came over me and I grabbed my phone and texted Mistou. It had been four months since we’d danced together at that Miami carnival party, but we’d kept up light communication here and there, mainly via silly gifs and “have a nice day” messages. She’d send me her favorite new kompa videos and I’d send her my favorite rap Kreyol songs.
I took a deep breath and started typing.
Hey M, how was your day?
Fine, nothing stressful. You?
Heavy day of shopping in Manhattan. I have a crazy question for you.
Okay, shoot.
Any chance you’ll be in New York on the 31st? I have a work dinner and would love for you to accompany me.
