I was awoken by my phone ringing with a high pitched shrill.
I rolled over and grabbed it drowsily.
"Mmm?" I answer.
"Lizzie Knight?" A powerful voice questioned down the line.
"Yeah? Who's this?" I ask, trying to sit up.
I hear a chuckle. "Frank Paulson, you left a message about your... predicament?"
My eyes widen, and I leap off the bed, bounding around.
"Hello! Oh, thank you! Thank you for calling back so quickly!" I rush out, begging for answers.
"Right, Lizzie. I would prefer to discuss this matter in person? Are you free at some point today? From my records, you are located in Nottinghamshire?"
God, he's formal!
"Yes, yes I am. I live just outside of Newark."
Our conversation ends after we decide on a cafe in town at 4pm.
I am on edge all day!
I have a half day at work today as Mr Fray leaves for a business trip to Vancouver at 11.30am.
Just another bonus.
I rush off to the bathroom, shower under almost scalding rivets of water, before drying off. I brush my teeth and start to do my make over routine.
After drying, I style my hair neatly in a French plait. I rub on some foundation, apply my eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara, and place some lip balm on my dry, cracked lips.
I slip on my tight fitting black pencil skirt, frilly lilac shirt, and heeled court shoes.
I grab my work jacket and handbag, picking up an apple and rushing out the door like I do everyday.
I check my watch as I wait for the bus. 8:10... If this bus doesn't turn up soon, I'm going to be late!
Damn public transport!
~*~
Well, work is boring. I arrive just in the nick of time at 8:57! Three minutes before my clock-in time.
Thank baby Jesus I wasn't late as Mr Fray was in a royally bad mood. His head was up his ass!
What's wrong with him?
I make his coffee SEVEN f*****g times before he accepts it.
"That is too sweet!"
"That's too bitter!"
"Eurgh, where's the coffee?"
"Too much coffee!"
"It's cold!"
I bite my tongue each time he snaps at me. I have to or I lose my job.
I can't lose my job or I end up homeless!
Finally, Mr Fray leaves, still huffing and bitching about the world and all the people in it.
I feel relieved as I watch his taxi depart from in front of the building.
"Finally!" I breathe and grab my jacket and bag, and clock out before rushing into town.
Grabbing a sandwich from the shop, I sit on a bench and scoff my face, totally ignoring the disgusted and appalled looks from people walking by.
I'm hungry! Get over it!
I clean my face with a napkin, before heading off to the shopping centre. I need some new work clothes, and maybe an outfit or two for these various dates I keep getting asked out on.
After stalking around the shop, picking up various pieces of clothing--dresses, skirts and trousers. Shirts, jackets and a few pairs of jeans--I head into the changing rooms.
This is the only part of clothes shopping I hate. I'm happy to find the clothes and pay for them but I hate being cooped up in a small cubicle, a thin piece of material separating me from the public. It's so open!
I manage to try everything on. It all fits perfectly, and suits me down to a T.
I pay with my credit card. Ouchies... £145!
Thank f**k for credit cards!
After traipsing around town, I realise the time, squeak out loud and rush to the cafe. I stand at the counter waiting to get served.
"Seriously? These people are paid to serve customers and they'd rather stand out back having a chat!" I moan.
I am startled by a loud chuckle behind me. I turn round to see a white haired, attractive older man smiling at me.
"I totally get what you mean! Some workers just don't get the meaning of customer service." He grins, before winking mischievously. He slips past me and behind the counter and out back to where the staff are having a natter.
I hear his loud booming voice. "I DO NOT PAY YOU TO STAND AROUND CHATTING WHILE DRINKING THE SUPPLIES! NOW, GET OUT THERE AND SERVE SOME CUSTOMERS BEFORE I FIRE YOUR ASSES!"
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.
The white haired dude comes out again, followed by a couple of girls in their early twenties with sheepish looks on their faces.
One clears her throat and looks up at me as the guy comes out from behind the counter. "Sorry for the delay. What can I get you?" She asks politely.
"Large latte, please. Oh, and a blueberry muffin, thanks." I murmur, rummaging around my handbag for my purse.
After paying for my order, I take my tray and find a seat. I see Mr Whitehair sat down at a table for two, a book in his hand and a big leaver arch folder on the table.
Hmm...
He lifts his head up and smiles at me. 'I take it you're meeting someone?" He asks.
I smile back and nod. "Yup but I have no idea what he looks like!" I show a face of worry.
He chuckles. "Well, I'm guessing its me... Miss Knight?"
I grin and wander over. I put the tray on a table close by and slide it over, before sticking my hand out. "Thank you for meeting me, Mr Paulson." I shake his hand before sitting down opposite him.
"Let's get down to business." He states.
~*~
"So, what you're saying is, err... my wolf is confused?" I ask, wrinkling my nose, not understanding all the information Mr Paulson had just sprouted.
He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, no, no. Right, I'll put this in simple terms for you."
"Yes, your wolf is slightly confused with what is happening to you, but that isn't the issue. Holden and Dean are both, by what you've told me, your mates."
"Some wolves have two mates. It's very rare but I have come across it twice for me in this job."
I gawp in shock. "What?! How does that work? How can I have two? How can I choose between them?"
Mr Paulson shakes his head. "The strange thing is, you don't. You can mate both of them and have a happy life. It is easier to choose one or the other, but it has been done and can work out well if done right."