His tailor only slapped him on the back and walked away to do busy work while Cyrus stared at his reflection. White tuxedo shirt, black tie, dark blue tuxedo with black lapels. He looked good. Damn good. At least he hoped he looked damn good. Did he, though? Did he look damn good to him but to Paulina he’d look a fool?

Maybe he should have brought his boys. Except none of them were married, so what the hell did they know about it?

Cyrus found his suit jacket and pulled his phone out. Before he thought better of it, he snapped a photo of himself in the mirror and texted it to Nora.

What do you think about the blue? he wrote.

Then he realized what he’d done.

He’d asked a white lady dominatrix for her opinion on his tuxedo.

For his wedding.

To Paulina.

What was next? Calling Lady Gaga and asking her to DJ the reception?

Cyrus started to write, Disregard, meant to text someone else that when Nora replied.

Wow.

Cyrus smiled. Good wow?

Hell good wow, she wrote. The blue looks great. Damn.

I’m looking for “God damn.”

Can I show Juliette? she texted back.

Please do.

Cyrus paused, tensed, awaiting the verdict. Well?

She’s purring. You can’t get any better than that.

He made Juliette purr. Cyrus wasn’t just renting the tux. He was going to buy the thing.

J says King needs that tux.

Ah, well, if this tuxedo was good enough for Juliette the Goddess, it was good enough for him.

Juliette wants to know if Paulina is traditional. Then she might want you in black.

She said she didn’t care as long as I liked it and she didn’t see it before the wedding.

She’s a keeper, Nora wrote. Juliette and I have spoken—go with the blue. Céleste agrees. She gives it two thumbs up.

Thanks, ladies, he replied, intending to sign off but the little bubble dots warned him Nora had more to say.

The guy I told you about said he’d meet you. Can you come to my place tonight at six?

Your house?

My dungeon. She sent the address.

It’s not normal for people to have dungeons, he wrote her. You know that, right?

Who wants to be normal?

Well. Cyrus had asked for this meeting. Might seem rude to cancel.

Conversation over, he replied. Then he swiped his finger and deleted that entire insane exchange.

“Well?” his tailor asked, glancing around the edge of the mirror.

“Measure me up,” Cyrus said. “I’m taking the blue.”

Chapter Seventeen

After his fitting, Cyrus changed back into his brown suit and tie, stopped for an early dinner of shrimp and grits, and headed over to Piety Street and Nora’s dungeon.

He was not sure about this dungeon thing.

When Cyrus arrived, he found the building looked pretty safe, pretty boring. A brick square place, like a small warehouse. He parked in the lot and went through the glass doors. In the lobby, he found an old-fashioned letter board with names and office numbers. Not too many.