Page 51 of Devil's Marker

“Remember,” Catcher warned, “these guys are likely to look different. You’ve got to be able to recognize the cleaned-up versions.”

Win nodded. “Do my best.”

“Well, it’s not critical. ‘Cause it turns out I’m goin’ in with you.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Boss decided two heads are better than one.”

“You old enough to get in?”

Catcher smiled. “Twenty-one. Last month.”

“Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve given considerable thought to my appearance. Much as I hate to say this, what are you wearin’?”

They decided that Catcher would go on the final shopping errand with Win. Win had decided on jeans and a indigo blue tee that one of the club girls said brought out the blue in his eyes.

The two bikers took a club vehicle because they didn’t want Win sighted on a bike. He left the clubhouse in a baseball cap and sunglasses, being driven by Catcher in a black Ford SUV.

Win had Catcher drive him to Cabela’s. He dropped a couple thousand dollars on a pair of Luchese horn-back caiman tail boots while Catcher looked on wide-eyed.

“You rich, surfer dude?” Catcher asked on the way out.

Win laughed. “Surfer dude?”

“Didn’t you come from southern California? Land of Beach Boys, beach babes, peroxide, and stoners?”

Win smiled, shaking his head. “I’m from Beaumont. Land of refineries, petrochemical plants, and dense concentrations of fast food clusters.”

“Hard to make fun of that.”

“So don’t.”

“Okay. But aside from that, you rich?”

“I’ve saved my money.”

Catcher barked out a laugh. “Not today.”

“No.” Win smiled. “Not today,” he agreed amiably.

They drove to Men’s Warehouse where Win bought a tan linen sport coat for himself. It looked great over his tee and jeans with boots. Not hipster. Not L.A. ridiculous. More modern Texas money. When worn open, it was dressy and casual at the same time. The thing that really sold the look was a stomach kept flat by a still-youthful metabolism and regular trips to the clubhouse gym.

“We don’t have a lot of time to personalize your killer look. So we’re gonna have to get some help,” Win told Catcher.

When the saleswoman came back, he handed her the jacket and said, “I’ll take this. Now we need a consultation for my friend. I’m takin’ him to a club Friday. Show me what the young ladies would like to see on him.”

She looked at Catcher and smiled knowingly, believing that the end game was getting laid. “Well, you’re good-looking enough. You’ve got kind of a Jon Bon Jovi thing going on.”

Catcher cocked his head. “Who’s that?”

She chuckled softly. “Well, that firmly established my age. That means you’re making my job easy.”

After some struggle, including raised voices and one walk out, Win and the saleswoman managed to wrestle Catcher into a new style skinny leg dark blue suit, a crisp white extra pointed collar shirt left open at the neck, and a pair of polished rust-colored ankle boots.

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