BANGERZ 3: ON THE RUN (2017)

16. Surprises

"Thanks," I mutter, planting my fingertips and sliding my butt to the edge of the seats. They're worn in some places, white stuffing bursting from ripped seams, and it smells like an armpit that didn't get enough deodorant. I try to suck it up and call it part of the experience, but the questionable spots on the carpet and near the seat belt lock taunt gross explanations. I'll just say it's water damage.

"So," the cabbie says casually, resting his wrist on the steering wheel. We're nestled in a narrow strip of the street, bumper-to-bumper with other taxis, and we're not moving anytime soon. "Saks Fifth Avenue, huh? You gonna do some shopping?"

No, I'm going to go deep-sea diving in a world-famous department store. "Yes. It's my first time in New York and I had to see Manhattan for myself."

"Let me guess - your boyfriend gave you his credit card and turned you loose? I let my wife do all the shopping, too. Not on Fifth Avenue, but still." He chuckles.

"Something like that," I say delicately, not knowing whether I should be offended or not. "The shopping is for him, actually. He needs some suit and tie sets. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know. Where you're going is a little out of my budget, sweetheart."

Now he's just making me feel guilty. I'm not even a part of the crowd he obviously is wary about; instead, I'm only trying to do something nice for my boyfriend and have the resources to do so. I even tried to tip the hotel maid earlier today, when I ran into her when I got out of the shower, but she just turned red and apologized excessively for being in the room - she thought no one was here. It's not like I'm a queen and she was a peasant offending me with her presence. But she dashed out before I could thank her for the fresh sheets.

"But for a special occasion," I press my driver, politely. "Like an anniversary dinner with your wife. Where would you go?"

"She likes Italian. You said it's your first time in the city - are you looking for some good restaurants? Now that I could tell you."

I blow a lock of my hair out of my face before it can stick to my forehead, prickled with sweat. My laugh comes out as empty as his attempt at sarcasm. "I meant where would you go for a suit."

He considers my question as the car inches forward. "Hmm. Back in my day it was all about Brooks Brothers. Quality stuff, real classic and old-fashioned. Ready to wear straight from the rack. I don't know what the kids are wearing these days."

He must not think we wear quality stuff, apparently. "Retro stuff is in. And Brooks Brothers is perfect. You think they'd tailor pieces even though my boyfriend isn't with me? Do men's clothing stores do that? I looked at one of the suits he already has and wrote down his measurements. I know it's all about the fit, and he was stressed about making a good impression. I only want to get top-notch pieces for him. A guy would appreciate that, right?"

My driver takes his eyes off the road to look at me in the rear view again, and this time there's no apology in his gaze. He just chortles and shakes his head in a sort of disbelief.

"I think you should stick with your first choice, sweetheart," he advises me, turning down another crowded block. "You seem to have it all figured out."

I frown and finally sink down on the seats, realizing that he's making fun of me. I might have been talking a mile a minute and sharing a first-world problem, but I really did want his opinion. I figured a grown man would know a little something about a good suit - at least more than me. He just thinks I'm a silly girl blowing my boyfriend's money.