Denis

Denis was a slightly plump modern dandy, just generous enough in proportion to jovially tighten his clothes and suggest a love of good food and any wine. He had a weakness for flashy suits, camel colored with a large check or velvet jackets. He wore beautiful, wide ties with knots as big as his hammy fist, always just loosened so you could see he did not button all the way up to his strong, thick neck. His beard was charmingly cropped, his hair messily gelled, and his small squinty eyes twinkled behind his stylish frames. Denis had an actor's laugh, reserved and withholding, playing it cool, a touch of magnanimity. It was a laugh that accepted you, you felt grateful for it.

He was an actor but only because of his easy and uncomplicated relationship with money, a thing he never tried to hold onto or put much effort into obtaining. He was a reporter, a bar tender, and a cyclist. He rode his bicycle in a collar and loafers, a light linen suit for the spring. He lived in all the poor neighbors of exciting cities. He was named after Saint-Denis France, his middle name was Dagobert.

Denis met his wife in a dive bar in Oakland. She could not ignore him, he stood out with his barrel chest and great huge dogs, his green and brown suit gladhanding all the strangers. He drank Belgian beer and talked about moving to Bruges to curate sleepy museums. They played poker all night with a pinochle deck, and were amazed at their run of luck.