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opening the door for Jason. He leaned back in and waved his thanks to David.
    "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" David laughed as if he’d told a funny joke.
    Chris spared a smile.
    "Where are we?"
    Jason stood on the curb in midtown, staring up at the mixed-use townhouse. The cold air made him shiver, so Chris pulled off his long wool coat and draped it over Jason's shoulders for the few steps they took to the door.
    Being well after hours, they had to buzz in. Chris kept his lips pressed tightly together. He didn't want to spoil the surprise, and he if he said anything he'd give himself away.
    The foyer was typical of a converted home, with a side room and a sleek glass desk with the latest in Apple technology humming atop it. The glossy pine floor shone with impeccable warmth. Ahead, they confronted a stairway behind which sat a brushed steel kitchen of minimal interest.
    Jason paused and gave Chris a questioning look. Chris held out his hand to indicate he should go upstairs. There was a loft at the top awash in soft light and the sound of modern jazz. When they reached the top, Chris spotted two smiling women wearing black and sitting at a small break table. Both had bleached blonde hair and wore heavy eyeliner and foundation. On first glance, they were difficult to tell apart, but one was dressed more plainly and had her hair in a ponytail like she'd been doing more of the heavy lifting work -- indicating she was the assistant.
    If Jason noticed them, he gave no indication. What he did notice were the racks of beautiful couture, the wall of shoes and bags in individual cubbies, and the gaudy estate jewelry on the table.
    A mannequin wore a gorgeous one-of-a-kind vintage Dior dripping with luxurious ruffles in dark silk. The skirt ended in a classic fishtail style. For balance, the dress had puffy, layered sleeves that came down to graceful points. A huge black hat completed the look with black roses and a plume of feathers.
    Jason gasped. He neared it but held his hands together as if it were a museum piece he wasn’t allowed to touch.
    "My. God."
    The ladies stood. The woman in charge rolled a rack closer. "I love a man who knows fashion. That vest, Custo Barcelona?"
    Though Jason normally loved to brag about his couture, he gave an absent nod as he examined the intricate bustle on the back of the dress.
    Chris put an arm around Jason's waist. "These are stylists. They had some gowns in for celebrities to try for the red carpet. They were kind enough to stay late so you could have a look up close, maybe try on some pieces."
    "Try them on?" Jason placed his hand to his heart and breathed heavily.
    "You know, I was going to say the Dior was off limits," said the stylist. "But I think…" She looked at the dress and then at Jason. He gasped in awe. "You are what this dress needs."
    She gestured to the dress, and the ponytailed assistant started undoing the million fussy little buttons while Jason dropped to his knees in front of her.
    Though Chris couldn't quite appreciate the magnitude of Jason's excitement over a dress, Jason's mood was contagious. Even Chris could appreciate the workmanship. The stylist patted Jason's head and then indicated a dressing area that Chris hadn't noticed before, and Jason scrambled to his feet like an overexcited puppy and disappeared behind the white velvet drapes.
    It took at least half an hour for Jason to work into the dress. Then he fiddled with the hat. They must've changed his accessories a hundred times. Finally, his makeover was complete. They hadn't allowed him a mirror until they were finished, which wound Jason up to a fever pitch. When Jason stepped out, Chris saw him first. The bustle unfurled into a long train that appeared to float because of the silky drape.
    He'd somehow managed to redo his makeup, opting for a light line around his eyes and a porcelain finish. A few curly tendrils spilled from the huge hat. The brim dipped dramatically in the front, and a short veil