"Not yet." Ewan spoke softly when he saw the lady make an attempt to undress herself.
He maintained the faux-lustful expression, giving her a look over, deliberately lingering on her breasts to give off the impression that he was actually taken by her.
"What’s the matter, handso?" The lady spoke sultrily, leaning forward, placing her hands on his chest. Her touch was practiced, almost a profession, yet it left Ewan unfazed.
"I need sothing from you first." Ewan replied, letting the well-manicured hands remain on his chest for the mont. He had no choice.
"And what do you need, handso?"
"I need information on the outsiders your mother gave lodging to, between yesterday, and this morning." Ewan stated, his eyes narrowed with purpose.
The lady, whom Ewan never bothered to know her na, opened her mouth like an ’O’ and then nodded. "Is that all?"
Ewan nodded curtly.
"That’s nothing then. I thought you were going to tell to pick a safe word or sothing... you know..."
Ewan didn’t bother giving wings to that veiled suggestion.
When the lady saw that Ewan was really serious, she shrugged her shoulders, a frown masking her face. "We just had one. Quite old. Said he ca to have a taste of the countryside. Though to , he looks like one that is running. I’m sure he is just here to recoup and then zap away. Aunt says it’s none of our business, that we only have the job to serve the patrons, no matter who they are, so long as they are paying money."
"Can you describe him?" Ewan pressed on, excitent budding within him. Finally!
"Yeah. Average height, blonde hair, sunken eyes, and pale cheeks, a bit robust, was looking rich too, just like you and your friend back at the bar."
Ewan bobbled. That was Zack, quite alright. "So, where is he now? Is he in the inn?"
The lady pouted in response, pressing herself closer to Ewan. Her scent, a mix of cheap perfu and sothing else indefinable, filled the air.
"Can’t that wait until later, handso. Look! I’m already ready for you..." She whispered into his right ear, her hand slipping from his chest down to his belly, and then to the...
Ewan held her hand, stopping her movent. He had little tolerance for gas, and he had even less tolerance for being toyed with. "Information first. And then we can work it all out as much as you want."
The lady smiled, happy with the deal. "Alright then, as you wish, handso. He is not currently at the inn."
Ewan held back a sigh of frustration. He was getting impatient.
"He actually went for a therapy class nearby, or whatever he called those."
Ewan furrowed his brows. "There’s a therapist around here?"
The lady laughed, her amusent echoing in the room. "That we are not as developed like the big cities, doesn’t an that we don’t have the basic anities. It’s quite far, of course, but he rented a car so his movents are easier."
Rented a car? That ant he planned on staying for at least a week. Ewan didn’t exactly know why Zack would choose this place of all places to rest, heal, or whatever; he didn’t care. He only wanted answers.
"So, how do you know all this information? Did he tell you anything else?"
The lady nodded. "That he had a company one ti, before the return of a villain whom he hadn’t grood well, bla bla bla. It was boring so I tuned out, and when he couldn’t give what I wanted, I stopped serving him altogether, for both our sakes." She shrugged, as if the conversation had been aningless.
Ewan didn’t bother asking what she wanted from Zack; he had a feeling he just wouldn’t like the answer. "I see. So, where is the location of the therapist?"
"Not much far. You would see it, if you keep walking straight, after turning left of the inn. Not much far. Actually walkable."
Ewan nodded slowly; he had gotten what he wanted. He needed to leave now if he was going to catch up with Zack. "Thank you for the information. Now I have to leave, I have to find my friend."
The lady chuckled, throwing her head back. "What about ? You think you can walk out of here without fulfilling a deal to ?"
Her tone has gotten sinister, and Ewan wondered what she would actually do if he was soone else. Rape him? It sounded funny to him, considering her slim nature.
"Yes, I think so. Or do you want to inform the master that you are out here selling stuff, instead of paying him his money?"
A tensed silence descended in the room, while Ewan hoped this ruse would work; he didn’t want to fight his way out of here—this was unknown territory. The situation was beginning to feel more volatile.
The lady opened her mouth, and then shut it, not exactly knowing what to say. "That’s a bluff. You must have heard it sowhere. You ntioned you are a visitor, rember?" She bit out after a few beats, fuming with anger.
"I said a lot of things, girl. Now make your choice... the easy way or the hard way..." Ewan spoke coldly, bringing out his phone, donning the countenance that had made him the mafia lord more than eight years ago.
The girl instantly moved away from him, her anger switching to fear. The threat in his tone was as deadly as any weapon. "My aunt ntioned she had spoken to boss!"
Ewan cackled evilly, getting to his feet. "The boss says a lot of things, girl..." He said, putting emphasis on the ’girl’.
When the lady shuddered and moved away, he knew she got it. How dare she call him boy?
"So, are we cool now?"
She nodded frantically, darting frenzied glances at the door, making Ewan pity her a little. Whatever bond she was having with the boss, whover that was, must be draining.
A final glance at her under-dressed self, and he walked out of the room.
Sandro was waiting for him downstairs, an empty cup of beer in front of him, and a girl sitting on his laps.
"What were you doing with her? I thought you are allergic to girls?" Ewan started as they left the bar, walking in the direction that Monty’s niece had given him. The inn’s noises and voices faded into the distance.
Sandro scoffed. "I am never allergic to girls. I am just only into so types of girls..."
"You an girls that look like Chelsea Statham. Dude, she..."
"Don’t finish it, Ewan... unless you are alone the rest of this journey." Sandro cut in sharply, shutting down the conversation.
Ewan snorted. "I didn’t ask you to co along in the first place. So, it’s easier to give advices on Athena related issues, but I can’t drop my thoughts on yours?"
Sandro said nothing; he rather walked faster, to Ewan’s amusent.
"Wow, I would really give a lot just to hear the story between you two. The almighty Sandro Williams’ taste relegated to a number of won that would just remind him of a certain genius pediatrician who..."
"Ewan, really? Are you trying to distract yourself? Do I need to remind you that we need to be done with this, before hurrying ho to see your kids?"
Ewan paused his lips at Sandro’s impatient words. He would have loved to continue to taunt the latter, but he left it until he had Zane in his arsenal. Oh, he couldn’t wait!
"Sure sure. The niece gave directions. Hopefully, she was right when she ntioned that it was of a walkable distance."
Sandro halted in his tracks, turning to look at Ewan with a raised eyebrow. "We are walking to a distance that you’re not even sure of?"
Ewan shrugged his shoulders in response.
"I see you aren’t taking the ti seriously, neither are you taking the grace Athena have given you seriously. You seem to want to ss it up, again."
Ewan scowled, jolly mood completely pushed away. "Sandro, quit it."
Sandro chuckled sarcastically. "You started it."
Ewan shook his head, starting to walk again. "There’s a difference. I don’t know anything about you and Chelsea. You don’t give us any hints!"
"She wreaked my life. That’s the only hint you need to know."
Ewan pursed his lips. The words hung in the air between them, filled with an emotion that he knew all to well.
"Are you sure of that? Have you communicated with her properly? Because I’m starting to realize that we n allow our pride to hinder a lot of good things really. Myself as an example, I thought Athena had wreaked my life, didn’t know it was the other way round."
"Chelsea is not Athena. And I’m not you. And you are a business man, not a therapist."
Ewan said nothing after that. His friend can deal with his shit himself.
Ten minutes later, ten hot minutes later, as the sun was blaring forcefully on them, they were standing in front of the ’therapy palace’, as was stated on the signboard.
"Are you sure this is the therapy site?" Sandro asked, taking note of the half naked won going in and out of the bungalow structure. The scene was jarring and unexpected.
"There are different kind of therapy, Sandro. Although I’m surprised as you are, seeing this type. Let’s go in."
Ewan ignored the ladies making passes at him, promising good therapy, and headed straight to the receptionist desk. The air seed to buzz with a strange energy, but he would not be deterred.
"Hello, I’m looking for soone, Zack Mooore.... he’s a patient today."
The receptionist looked him all over, chewing noisily on gum, before replying; "No na like that ca in here."
Ewan exhaled harshly, exchanging furtive glances with Sandro. He was tired, and frustrated. He wished to go ho.
"Please check again. Blonde hair, average in..."
"And besides, we don’t give client information out." The receptionist interrupted, making Ewan see red.
He opened his mouth to blast the hell out of the receptionist, tired of being seen as a nobody in this dirty town, when Sandro tapped him on the shoulder, rasping.
"See Zack."
Ewan imdiately swiveled, exhaling in relief, when he saw Zack through the window, talking with a taller woman, a taller well dressed woman.
A better therapist then. He thought, walking out of the room with Sandro.
When Zack saw them approaching him monts later, his jaw slackened. Surprise flashed in his eyes. "How... how did... you two find ?"
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