Chapter 42
760 Words
Chapter 42Mark had to get himself equipped, shall we say, for his grand entrance as a billionaire the next morning at the hotel’s restaurant. He was glad the meeting had not been scheduled for the night of his arrival. The way he felt (and looked) at the moment could be compared to an overdosed junky in quest of his next fix. His greasy hair, red eyes, and the sweaty smell emanating from his tired body, didn’t make it easy for him to walk into the most expensive clothier in town and asked to be shown a couple of their best suits. Since he didn’t have time to have the trousers altered and the jacket taken in, he chose whatever was on offer and fitted him. The sales clerk, who looked more like a personal valet than a store’s assistant, frowned several times, but as etiquette demanded, didn’t say a word when Mark asked to try on some of the ready-to-wear garments. He bought all of the necessary accessories, down to driving gloves and even a cane to take on his morning stroll. He thought he could give it to Talya once she would be out of her wheelchair. The thought of the cane becoming a gift drove him to choose it with superfluous care, to the gentlemen’s gentleman ultimate surprise.
Once his purchases were concluded, he went to the third floor of one of the department stores and rushed into the hair-stylist’s salon. The young woman at the desk looked like the dominatrix of a late-night show. Leather corset, tight-fitting pants, spiky hair, offensive red lipstick and silver jewellery complemented her somewhat frightening, pale face.
“How can I help you, sir?” the woman asked.
Mark came to stand in front of her after he had dropped his many shopping bags into a nearby chair. “I’d like your stylist to give my hair a rinse to get rid of the colour.”
“Very well. Would next Friday at three suit you?” She scrolled down the appointment list on her computer screen.
“NO!”
She threw him a quick glance and returned her eyes to the screen. “How about Thursday at five o’clock?”
“How about right now?” Mark said with the firmness of one who couldn’t be denied.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir,” she replied politely, “our stylists are busy till closing today...”
“Make it possible then. You get one of them un-busy and there is a hundred in it for you.”
She was all smiles now. “Bribery will get you everywhere...” While she let the remark hang in the air, she walked inside the salon and called out, “Alain? Would you mind...?”
Mark didn’t hear the rest and waited until an effeminate fellow showed up through the archway—the dominatrix in tow.
“Ho my! What a mess,” the stylist exclaimed, rounding Mark as if he were a side of beef on display at the butcher. “What have you done? Did you colour those locks by yourself?”
Turning to face him, Mark finally uttered, “Yes. I was in a hurry. And I’m still in a hurry.”
“Of course, my dear man, of course. Follow me. My name is Alain, by the way, and what’s yours?”
This was definitely getting too friendly for the about-to-become billionaire. “Mark,” he replied curtly. “Shall we get on with it?” He was already walking into the salon under the amused gaze of the receptionist. She should get her whip out to him, Mark thought.
An hour and a half later, Mark reappeared, paid his bill and left a hundred dollar note on the counter, which the dominatrix swiped off, quickly saying, “My name is Belinda, Mark. If you’d like to come back sometime, I’d love to show you what I can do with the rest of you!”
Mark had enough. He walked out, shopping bags in hand, without a word.
When he got back to his room, he didn’t bother unpacking. He took out the cell phone he had bought first as he got into the shopping mall, opened it, registered it with the service provider, and finally dialled Fred’s number.
Already at home, Fred looked at the call display on the phone in his den, and grunted.
“Alright! You’ve got it. Good. I’ll send you Lypsick right now.”
Surprised that the Chief didn’t let him place a word edgewise, Mark sat back and waited.
“Have you got it?” Fred asked once he got back on the line.
“Yes, thank you. What about Sadir’s?”
“Yes, that’s next, but it’s not a very good one. Anyway, he’s fat, that’s really all you need to know about him.”
Mark smiled to himself. Although the chief was not fat per se, he counted among the gigantic men of this earth—he was sure.
“Okay, Chief. I think I’ll turn in now, otherwise I’m gonna fall asleep on this sofa.”
“No problem. We’ll talk in the morning before your first meeting with Lypsick. Phone me.”
“We’ll do.”
Mark shouldn’t have been sitting down. It took him less than thirty seconds to fall asleep where he was.
- Writer
