“I don’t know why that’s so incredible. I just had to have a coffee to fortify myself before starting.”

“I don’t think it’s incredible,” Angie said. “I think it’s wonderful. Because, let’s be honest, you could use a bit of sprucing up.”

“You think so?” My eyes were darting about, trying to find Trevor.

“I mean, you always wear the same sort of thing. You’ve got your blue jeans, but then, once in a while, if you really want to dress up, you wear your black jeans. And these pullover shirts you wear, I mean, what is it with these?” She was plucking at my top with her fingers.

“The thing is,” I said, “it’s been pointed out to me in the last couple of days, as recently as last night, in fact, that my fashion sense leaves a lot to be desired. An opinion that was not contradicted by your mother. So I thought, while she was out of town on this retreat thing, I’d pick out a few new things.”

“That is so terrific,” Angie said. “You know what?” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a bit of time. I’ll help you. Since we haven’t got five gay guys here to give you a makeover, it might as well be my job.”

“No, no, that’s okay, you’ve got stuff to do.”

“No, really, this’ll be fun. Let’s hit the Gap. It’s sharp, but not too flashy. Finish that coffee and we’ll go over.”

I didn’t see Trevor anywhere. Maybe seeing Angie hook up with her father had scared him off. I drank my coffee as quickly as I could, but it was still pretty hot, and it took me a couple of minutes. Finally, I pitched the paper cup into the trash and allowed Angie to drag me over to the Gap, wondering whether Joe Mannix had ever been dragged off a stakeout to pick out new pants.

“Okay,” she said, taking me first to a display of shirts. “I think you’d look good in something like this.” She held up, against my chest, a plaid, button-up-the-front shirt. “What are you?”

“What do you mean, what am I?” I was waiting for an insult.

Angie rolled her eyes. “Size? Are you large, extra-large? I’m guessing you’d take a large.”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” I said.

A salesperson wearing a “Gary” nametag approached. “May I help you with anything?”

Angie said, “My dad wants to get some pants, maybe some khakis?”

“Sure, they’re over here, if you want to follow me.”

Angie motioned for me to come along. Gary of the Gap said, “He’d prefer loose fit, you think?”

Angie nodded. “Oh yeah, no kidding.”

And I thought, Hello? I’m here, too. You can ask me questions.

Angie loaded me down with three pairs of pants, half a dozen shirts. “Go try these on,” she ordered.

“Honestly,” I said. “I think I’ll just get the shirts. I don’t have to try them on. They’ll be fine. But the pants, it’s a lot of trouble.”

Angie looked at me sternly.

I was directed into a changing room. I slipped off my shoes, pulled off my pants. I pulled on a pair of navy blue khakis first, and one of the checked shirts Angie had handed me. I tucked in the shirt, slipped my shoes back on, and grabbed the wallet from my pants. This has long been a fear of mine, that my wallet will be stolen while trying on new clothes.

When I stepped back into the main store, Angie was there with Gary.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You look terrific.”

“I want to take another look at some shirts up at the front,” I said.

“Oh sure!” Angie said and then, glancing at Gary, said to me, “I’ll be right here.” She and Gary were chatting, and it didn’t sound like the subject was fashion. Didn’t she already have a boyfriend?

I walked to the front, not to look at shirts, but to scan the mall. There were dozens of people walking past, but at a glance, I didn’t see anyone who resembled Trevor.

I returned to the back of the store, told Angie I hadn’t seen anything else I cared for. But by the time we got to the counter, I had five shirts, three pairs of slacks, a new belt, and five pairs of socks.

While Gary was removing all the tags and scanning the items, I said to Angie, “So, what have you been doing tonight? Did you come straight to the mall?”

“No,” she said. “I met a friend for coffee first.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, trying not to act too interested. “Anyone I know?”

“No.”

“A good friend, someone from school?”

“Just a friend,” she said. She spotted a rack of boxers. “You know what, you should get some of those, too.”

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for my daughter to be buying me boxers. That has to cross a line somewhere.”

“If I have to see you walking around the house in them, I should have the right to pick them. Here,” she said, grabbing three pair and tossing them onto the counter just before Gary rang up the sale.

“Okay,” said Gary. “That comes to $576.42.”

“What?” I said.

Gary repeated the amount for me. “Will that be on your Visa, sir?”

I handed over my plastic and Gary ran it through. As I walked out of the store, loaded down with three bags, Angie said, “That’s the most fun I’ve had shopping in months.”

I wasn’t sure I was cut out for this whole surveillance thing. I didn’t think I could afford it.

AS WE CAME OUT of the Gap, Angie stopped, maneuvered herself between the bags I had in both hands, and hugged me. “We should do that more often,” she said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. I let the bags slip from my hands and hugged her back.

“Thanks for letting me do that for you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Angie glanced at her watch. “Well, I do have to get going now, but I’m not going to be late or anything.”

“Where you off to?” I asked.

“Just doing some research for an essay I’ve got to do. I’m getting together with a friend.”

“Same friend you got together with earlier?” I asked.

“Nope, different,” she said, giving me another quick peck on the cheek. “Gotta go, Daddy.”

I felt my throat thicken. I could not remember her calling me that in years, not since she was little. It was as though, with one word, she had emerged from a period when it was not cool to show that you loved your dad.

As we walked out of the mall together, I kept scanning, looking for Trevor. My guess was he’d packed it in. We came out into the night air. “Where you parked?” Angie asked. I pointed in the general direction, but said I would walk her to her car before going to mine.

“How is it so far?” Angie asked, referring to our new wheels.

“Pretty good, although I might get it checked out. It wouldn’t start for me right away when I left the house. Had to try it three times before it would turn over.”

“Lemon city,” Angie said.

“I’m sure it was just a one-time thing.”

“Hey,” Angie said, looking puzzled, “you left the house long before I did. What did you do before you went to the mall?” Her question made sense, given that when she did find me at the Midtown Center, I had yet to do any shopping.

“Hobby shop,” I said. I was losing track of the number of times I’d lied to my own children this evening. “There was a new version of the Enterprise ship, from the Star Trek movies, the early ones, with the original crew?”

Angie sighed. “You’re such a dork. At least you won’t be quite as nerdy in your new clothes.”

I was about to laugh when I spotted a black Chevy, lights on, engine presumably running, parked alongside the sidewalk that went around the mall’s perimeter. I could see one head silhouetted behind the wheel. It was hard to tell whether it was Trevor, because he appeared to be holding something in front of his face. Binoculars, maybe, or a camera.

“What is it?” Angie asked. “You see something?”

“No, nothing.”

We got to the Camry, and Angie got in, dropping her Banana Republic package in the passenger seat. I told her not to be too late, waved goodbye, and then, once I was sure I was out of sight of her rearview mirror, sprinted back to the Virtue. Trevor, with his car in position and the engine running, was going to have the jump on me if I didn’t get out of my spot quickly. I’d end up losing both of them.