Free No Ordinary Bloke by Mary Whitney

lobby in ten minutes, all right, love?”
    “Okay…”

I shut the door behind me and began reaching into my suit jacket for my mobile when I saw Paulina at her desk. I walked over and said, “Thank you for helping me out. I do appreciate it.”
    “No problem.” She glanced at Allison’s closed door. “Is she busy for lunch?”
    “No.” I smiled. “We’re meeting downstairs in a few minutes.”
    “Great,” she said, approvingly.
    I was just about to walk on when a question came to mind. “Say, Paulina. Here’s a question I’m curious about. It’s just a little survey. If I gave you the choice of a birthday present of either lunch at Lark or a hundred dollars, which would you prefer?”
    “I’d take that cash.” She laughed. “Lunch is nice, but cash is…”
    “Cash, right?” I grinned. “That’s what I thought. Thanks again. You’ve been a great help.”
    As soon as I was out of earshot, I rang Angus. We’d met years ago, playing a pick-up game of football when I was in New York on business. Since then, we’d become good friends. He grew up in a council flat in Glasgow, and when he spoke normally, he had the thickest Scottish accent I’d ever heard outside of the UK. Like me, though, he’d learned to moderate his accent. Now he was the maître d' at one of the best New York restaurants, and his Scottish lilt attracted enough American birds that he’d never leave Manhattan. But when he spoke with me you’d think he’d just wandered out of Glasgow pub. I think one of the reasons why he liked me so much was that I was one of the few people who could understand what the fuck he was saying.
    “David!” he answered. “Good to hear from you mate. Bit busy at the moment, but how the fuck are ye?”
    “I’m good. I’m in town in fact.”
    “Shame. I can’t play footie tonight. I’ve got a date with this little Puerto Rican beauty I’ve been working on for a while.”
    “No worries. I’m not staying the night either. We’ll play ball some other time.”
    “What can I do for you then?”
    “Can you get me a table?”
    “Of course. When?”
    “In fifteen minutes.”
    “It’s yours.”
    “Thanks, mate.” I smiled, thinking of Allison’s reaction and even better, Trey’s. That made me wonder. “One more thing. Do you know Trey Chabot?”
    “Trey? Or is he Warner Garrett Chabot the Third to you?”
    “That’s his full name? Jesus Christ. Who does he think he is?”
    “That’s what’s on his credit card. The tosser.”
    “Trey must be his nickname because he’s a third.”
    “Trey or Warner? I don’t know which is worse. Just like the English posh types. They can’t just have a normal fucking name.”
    “So why is he a tosser?”
    “He thinks because he eats here all the time he can be demanding as hell and stingy with the tips. We all hate the arse. Not that he knows it. He’s always trying to chat me up about Scottish football. The twat calls Celtic ‘The Celtics’ all the time. Doesn’t know how much of a fool he sounds like, and I’m not going to tell him.”
    “Do you know his girlfriend?”
    Angus snorted. “Girlfriend? Which one?”
    “So he has more than one…” I smiled and raised my fist up in the air in victory. “Tell me about them all.”
    “Sorry, mate. Don’t have time right now. Ring me after the lunch crowd.”
    “Will do. But I need to warn you about one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I’m bringing one of Trey Chabot’s girlfriends with me.”
    “Really? Which one?”
    “Allison Wright.”
    “I don’t know their names. What does she look like?”
    “Red hair.”
    “Oh, that lovely lass. She’s the public girlfriend. I see her the least often, but don’t tell her that.”
    “Don’t worry. I won’t. I’ll see you in thirteen minutes.”
    Ten minutes later Allison and I were making small talk as we walked down Park Avenue. When she realized we were heading straight to Lark, she stopped in the middle of the pavement. “How on