on an old tattered gray sweater and my favorite pair of jeans. I slipped my bare feet into loafers, and walked soberly into the kitchen to feed the kids. Peter, alias Paul, had gone to make more phone calls, but he had promised to join us at breakfast, and see the children before they left for school.
I made waffles and bacon for everyone, since we had a “guest,” and Sam had gobbled up all of his before Charlotte even left her room. She appeared late, as usual, straightening the much-too-short skirt she was wearing and fiddling with her hair. She was wearing a necklace that looked like a stop sign but said SEXY, and my favorite pair of high heels. And I sent her back to change into the Adida3 she usually wore to school.
By the time she got back, she was even later, inhaled half a waffle, and informed me that eating bacon was sick. I nodded and picked up the paper, with a quick glance at my watch. It wasn't my day to drive them to school, and the mother who was scheduled to do it was almost always late. She already was, and as I shook my head over it and picked up the business section, I felt as though an odd, almost otherworldly presence had just entered the room. Unable to resist the forces around me, and sensing him before I saw him, I looked up. My eyes were instantly met with a vision that nearly defied description. For once, Sam was stunned into silence, and Charlotte whispered in awe, ‘Too cool.” It was too something definitely. I'm not entirely sure “cool” was the right word. “Hot” might have been more like it.
The Klone, as he called himself, was wearing a one-piece leopard spandex jumpsuit, with a skintight T-shirt in an almost electric hot pink, with matching shoes. He had on sunglasses and a heavy gold necklace, and on his fingers he wore at least six enormous diamond rings. And as the sun streamed in on him, he looked as though he were going to explode in a million particles of blinding light, rather like a kaleidoscope enhanced by LSD. He was definitely “too cool.”
“Bright in here, isn't it?” he said pleasantly, as he sat down at the table with a broad smile. All I could do was stare at him. The outfit was beyond belief.
“I think it's just you,” I said, wondering if the khakis and conservative blue shirts had just been a ruse. Maybe this was the real him. If not, it was certainly an intriguing joke. But maybe he had just worn the conservative clothes to pull me in. In either case, this was sick, and I knew it.
“ Anything special in the paper?” he asked comfortably, digging into his waffles and bacon, and pouring about an inch of maple syrup all over his plate, while Sam watched with glee and fascination.
“Would you like the fashion section?” I asked, as Sam warned him that all that sugar would rot his teeth.
“I hate the dentist,” he said amiably. “Don't you?”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “a lot. We go to a really mean dentist. He makes me use fluoride, and he gives me shots.”
“Then you shouldn't go, Sam. Life is too short to do things you don't like to do.” Sam nodded, in complete agreement, as I put the paper down slowly and glared at them both.
“Life is too long to spend it without teeth.” Peter's comment did not amuse me, nor did the look in Charlotte's eye when she asked him admiringly where he got the suit.
“It's Versace, Charlie. He's the only designer I wear. Do you like it?”
“More than life itself,” I volunteered for her, and then mercifully, the doorman called on the house phone. The car pool was downstairs to take them. ‘Time for school!” I rushed everyone out the door, closed it, and then turned to look at him. “What exactly are you trying to do? Cause a revolution here? They're children. They don't know you're just kidding … and Peter … that outfit …” I didn't know how to say it, but it wasn't going to be easy keeping Charlotte in anything even remotely respectable, if he kept wearing little numbers like this one.
“It's terrific, isn't it?” He grinned, and I sat down and groaned helplessly, and then looked up at him again. But he looked so sweet and so vulnerable, he actually looked hurt at the thought that I disapproved.
“Yes, it