Rejection

The girl jumped up on the counter, her tan legs dangling over the edge. “Angel said you could fix this for me.” She tossed the costume toward the tailor.
        He bent, picking it up with two fingers and holding it away from him. “I will do no such thing,” he replied, dropping it beside her and adjusting the tape measure around his neck so that it hung in equal lengths on both sides of his suit. “I do not do these kind of repairs.”
        “But Angel said you did. He was confident you wouldn’t refuse,” the girl said, leaning toward the tailor and resting her hand on his wrist. Her glittered nails caught the light and sparkled. He shook her hand away and adjusted his lapel, his cheeks blushing at the warmth of her skin.
        “I don’t know anyone by the name of Angel, so I guess that solves that. I’ll show you to the door,” he said and motioned toward it.
        The girl didn’t move. Her deep brown eyes held his for a moment. The tailor wasn’t expecting this.
       “Angel said you would, and I need this tonight.” She laid back on the counter, stretching her arms up toward the yellowing fluorescent lights, then turning her head toward him. “It’s going to be the best party ever. I can’t wait. Angel’s taking me,” she said and smiled.
       The tailor tried not to look in her direction. At her soft skin, her leanness, the way her limbs moved gracefully, like a gazelle. An undiscovered elegance buried in black eyeliner and red lipstick.
       “So will you do it?” she asked again, sitting up and popping her bubblegum.
        He blushed again as the scent of her gum drifted to him. “Absolutely not, young lady. And you can tell this Angel character not to send anyone else to my shop.” To emphasize his point, he turned his back, refusing to let his eyes drift over her ankle, which was now just inches from him.