Chapter 115
“Man, this is tough, Wallis looked totally stumped. “The quests at the art show are all loaded or high–flying, and what they care about the most is their privacy. The security in the afternoon is gonna be tight as a drum, and my usual party–crashing tricks might just not cut it this time.”
I’d never seen Wallis at a loss like this before. Whenever we wanted to crash a party in the past. she always had the inside scoop – from the quest list to the gourmet grub in the kitchen–but today seemed like a real thorn in the side.
I tried to cheer her up, “How about this, you focus on your stuff for now, and I’ll head over there early to stake out the place. If I spot someone I know, I’ll figure out a way to get in.”
The publicity and distribution plan had Wallis tearing her hair out. She nodded, “Stay in touch.”
So off I went, driving solo to the Art Gallery. But since I didn’t know the way that well, plus the gallery was remote. I ended up driving in circles nearby without finding the exact spot.
Scouting ahead was always Wallis gig. With no other choice. I had to call her for help.
“Don’t sweat it: those streets are a real rat maze.” Wallis comforted me. “But there’s another trick you can try.”
Wallis told me to park on the side and watch the passing cars, betting that if I saw three or more low–key luxury cars heading in the same direction, they were probably bound for the gallery.
Made sense to me, but right after I hung up. I suddenly lurched forward, smashing uncontrollably into the steering wheel.
Ouch. I’d rear–ended someone. A posh navy Porsche, no less.
As I grimaced from the sharp pain in my wrist and looked in the rearview mirror, I couldn’t help feeling a bit irked.
A mess in the middle of a rush – just what I hate most. I got out of the car feeling down in the dumps, but when I looked up, I saw that familiar gray hair.
It was Timothy. He still had those fiery red headphones around his neck, wearing a vintage biker jacket with matching casual jeans – the rebel vibe was strong but full of energy.
After a brief eye contact, he looked at me with a smirk and said, “Xaviera, isn’t this fate that brings us together?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Talk about coincidence.”
No sooner had I finished speaking than a fresh wave of pain shot through my wrist, making me wince.
“Did you hurt?” Timothy was quick on the uptake. He came over to me in few strides, concerned, “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
docomo
Charter 115
“It’s nothing.” I thought about the Freeman thing and said. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you check my car for me?”
Timothy looked flabbergasted, “You can’t be serious about the car being more important than you!”
“It’s not that.” I struggled to explain. “I’ve got something really urgent coming up.”
“Urgent or not, you need to get to the hospital. Timothy insisted, “Leave the car to the insurance company.”
He then steadied me, probably trying not to hurt me with his cautious moves. I tried moving my wrist and the pain hit my nerves like a tidal wave. Definitely a sprain.
“That settles it; we’re going to the hospital. Timothy looked urgent. “I’ll call a ride.”
Torn between the throbbing wrist and the upcoming art show, I turned down Timothy’s offer after a moment’s thought.
*Just a minor injury.” I put on a brave face, “It’s nothing serious.”
Timothy, who was reaching into the car for his phone, looked up at me, glaring. “You really don’t care about yourself, do you? I don’t care; you are going to the hospital.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling overwhelmed. The guy might be young, but he was pretty stubborn.
Just as I was about to refuse again, I noticed the gold, gilded invitation on Timothy’s passenger seat. Emblazoned on the cover were the words “Art Gallery“
