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“Why are you in my diary?” I read further. “Nellies. What the fuck is Nellies?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Sullivan?”
“Pull up my schedule,” I tell him.
“I’ll call you back, mate. Not a good time.” He hangs up, and I frown down at the appointment. I don’t like being unprepared. In fact, it fucks me off that my schedule has been messed with to fit his day. He might be one of my best friends, but he’s an inconsiderate prick at times.
“Joe, do you know what Nellies is?”
“I don’t. I only took the address last minute this morning.”
I try to call Harry to no avail, and by the time I arrive at the location, I’m still none the wiser about who I’m meeting with and what files to take from the briefcase Harry had ready for me this morning.
“I’m not able to get the car down there, boss. You’ll have to walk the last half mile.”
“It’s fucking boiling out, for Christ’s sake.” I pull open the door and take the whole case with me. The walkway tails off down a cobbled street, and who knows what’s at the other end. Five-hundred fucking yards to the other end.
Lance: You can suck a dick today.
Mase: I’m picking up my tux. The fuck is your problem?
I stuff my phone in my pocket and walk the five hundred yards down the street. When I reachNells, I look up at the double-fronted windows and come face-to-face with a sex shop.
“He cancelled fucking Jefferys for this?”
Lance: Are you okay in the head? That or you have far too much money.
I curse my best friend as I push on the door to Nells. Thankfully it’s not busy, but I still get eyed by the three women shopping in the store and the two assistants at the front desk. They get straight to work.
“Hello! Can we help at all?”
“I can help,” I hear one of the customers mutter.
“I’m here on business,” I confirm. “I was sent by Mr Lowell.”
“Oh! Oh, of course. Just a moment.” The dark-haired shop assistant goes around the desk and bends behind the counter. “Please, follow me!” She pulls out a bag and then walks off toward the back of the shop and into a separate room. “Sorry, did you say Mr Lowell?”
“Yes.” I take the bag even though she doesn’t fully extend it to me. “Has this been paid for? Is there anything to settle?”
Get me the fuck out of here.
“It was your wife, Mrs Lowell, who left the package, sir. She requested you open it in-store in case you want to pick something different. For your benefit, we thought you’d prefer to open it out here.”
Did I just hear that right? “My wife. Mrs Lowell?”
“Yes, and nothing to pay. A treat for the husband, she said, and asked that we put it on her account.”
My jaw flexes. “She did, did she.”
“We hope you enjoy your new purchase. If there’s anything else you need at all today, just let me or Georgia know. I’ll leave you to it!”
She backs away, and my blood starts to boil.
She’s wasting my damn time.
I open the bag and peer inside, finding the contents gift wrapped. What is she playing at?
Lowell.
