Sales Pitch
We took the idea to Cleveland, and we took it to Saint Louis. In Chicago Ken said he had to take me to Millennium Park—no one could leave Chicago without going to Millennium Park.
At the corner of Michigan Avenue, five or six men had set up folding chairs. It was windy; across the street to our right was a bridge, and two stories down, a river. Office towers rippled in the water, green and glass and cold. One of the men asked Ken if he wanted a shine.
“I’m fine,” Ken said.
“My man, give me just one minute.” The man sprayed Ken’s shoes with foam.
“What the hell?” Ken said.
“Two minutes—not even; thirty seconds.” The man shook out a rag and misted it from a spray bottle. “Then you tell me if your shoes don’t look better.”
I felt the cigarette breath of another man behind me.
“How about you, miss?” he said.
I sidestepped and tripped where the sidewalk dipped up from the crosswalk. I had on new green pumps with tapered wooden heels.
“You watch out, miss.”
He made a shallow bow. His voice was gentle. His smile lines were deeply folded; in a movie he would have played a wise chief or honored warrior.
“You’ve got to know for your own self, what something’s worth.” The first man was buffing Ken’s shoes with the rag. “In here.” He hugged his fist to his chest. His eyes were small and dark and his face was set.
Ken pulled two bills from his money clip.
“If that’s what you’ve decided,” the man began.
The crossing light turned into the blinking shape of a white man walking. Ken strode out into Michigan Avenue without looking right or left or back or asking if I was with him.
“Look at this place,” he said. “Just look at it.”
“Denver should be good,” I said.
“Someone’s going to pick up on it.” Ken was walking very fast. We walked close under the windy side of an office building with gargoyles and stone downspouts. My hair kept blowing in my mouth.
“It’s a good idea,” he said. “I don’t understand why someone hasn’t picked it up.”
I had to trot to catch up. My toes hurt. I still wasn’t used to walking very far in pumps, but Ken always said we needed the right shoes if anyone was going to take us seriously.
