Driving ho, Aldrich humd along to the tunes of an underappreciated band playing in the car—Backstreet Boys. He couldn't quite understand why the group had fallen out of favor after debuting with their singles, but that didn't stop him from enjoying their music in this day and age.
As he pulled into the garage, he couldn't help but chuckle aloud while still humming.
He couldn't bla himself for feeling a bit smug; just the thought of Kevin Keegan's dejected visage made him want to laugh.
Habitually, he checked his mailbox before entering the house. Occasionally, he would receive letters from Rowling. Besides discussing her "Harry Potter" draft, they shared snippets of their daily lives like pen pals.
From their correspondence this year, Aldrich noticed a marked shift in Rowling's attitude towards life; she had erged from a state of closure and sorrow. Her creative process was brimming with inspiration, and her happiness shone through whenever she ntioned her daughter's growth.
Aldrich was thrilled for her and enjoyed sharing the ups and downs of his life and career. They were both adults, ntally mature enough to communicate in a more sophisticated manner, avoiding any feeling of talking to a wall.
There was indeed a letter waiting for him in the mailbox. As Aldrich picked it up, his cheerful mood evaporated instantly.
The envelope bore no postmark, no sender or recipient addresses; it was clearly slipped into his mailbox by hand.
This wasn't the first ti Aldrich had received a letter like this; he had encountered three similar ones before.
He opened his front door and sat on the couch, loosening his tie as he opened the letter.
Inside were seven or eight photographs, which he set aside before reading the words on the paper. He ended up chuckling in resignation.
It was a love letter, expressing admiration, and the enclosed photos were provocatively daring, featuring a young woman in nothing but her birthday suit, artfully posed to conceal her private areas while flaunting sultry expressions.
Aldrich headed to his study, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved the previous three letters that were substantially the sa, though the photos varied.
He opened the first letter and looked at the phone number included. Picking up the landline, he dialed the number.
Before long, the call connected, and a cheerful female voice answered.
"Miss Katie Price, is that you?"
"Yeah, who's this?"
"This is Aldrich Hall."
"Aldrich... Hall... Oh, it's you! Have I finally won you over? Aldrich, I've been waiting for your call for over a month!"
"Skip the chit-chat, let's cut to the chase. How much for a night?"
"..."
"Not interested? Alright, then I misunderstood. Please don't bother again, thanks."
"Wait, two thousand pounds."
"Two thousand? You're expensive."
"I guarantee it's worth it."
"Alright, I'll make it twenty thousand for you tonight! Do you know the Green Hotel in East London? I'll go book a room now. Be there by 9 PM, and I'll have the staff guide you."
"Twenty thousand... Okay, okay, see you tonight!"
Her tone was increasingly excited as they spoke, and after hanging up, Aldrich pressed the record button on the nearby tape recorder to stop it, pulling out the tape and placing it in a drawer.
Feeling uninterested in dinner, Aldrich took out twenty thousand in cash from his safe and drove over to Sander's bar.
It was yet to hit seven, and the bar hadn't reached its peak busy hour. Upon entering, Aldrich quickly beca the center of attention, greeted with raised glasses and friendly cheers from acquaintances, both familiar and unfamiliar.
Before Aldrich settled into a seat, Sander slid a glass of whiskey in front of him, smiling, "This one's on , the match this afternoon was thrilling."
Aldrich downed the whiskey in one go, but as Sander began to refill his glass, Aldrich waved him off and leaned closer, whispering, "I rember you haven't gotten married yet, have you?"
Sander shook his head. "No, I'm married. It's just that my wife doesn't make public appearances."
Aldrich rolled his eyes, "You got married and didn't let know?"
Sander smiled, "I didn't want you to spend more. I had a tough ti making it on my own in East London back in the day..."
"Alright, enough about the past."
Aldrich was rather averse to dwelling on old stories; he could predict what Sander would say. It was just Aldrich and his friends who had helped Sander, this Black immigrant, establish himself in East London to avoid being bullied by street thugs.
To Aldrich, it was a small favor, but for Sander, it was a mory he'd cherish forever.
"So, what's the reason you're here today?" Sander asked, noticing Aldrich appeared to have sothing on his mind.
In a place like this, where a mix of characters gathered, as the owner, Sander was adept at navigating any company. Looking sternly into Sander's eyes, Aldrich said, "Can you help find ten n for a little... arrangent?"
Pfft!
Sander almost spit out his drink at Aldrich's words, staring at him in disbelief before leaning closer, covering his mouth and whispering, "I know of a gay bar not too far from here."
Aldrich pushed Sander away, annoyed. "What are you thinking? The ten n aren't for ; they're for her."
Aldrich pulled out a photo from his pocket and handed it to Sander.
Sander glanced at the naked image of Katie Price and chuckled suggestively, "She's quite the firecracker, but she looks familiar—wait a second."
Sander bent down and rummaged under the bar counter, finally erging with two copies of the Sun newspaper. He and Aldrich leaned in, peering closely at the images.
"Isn't she the model who said she wanted to date you? She looks really young. Don't you like her?"
Sander eyed Aldrich, who responded, "Do you like her?"
Sander chuckled awkwardly, "I'm already thirty."
"Co on, a man at eighty would still like a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl."
Sander, caught out by Aldrich's point, raised an eyebrow as he noticed new custors entering, quickly shoving the newspapers out of sight. He had practically assimilated into the quintessential stiff British chap, where outwardly he maintained decorum, yet more than half the n indulged in reading the risqué third page of the Sun whenever they were alone in restrooms or offices.
"Wait, isn't she the model who said she wanted to date you in the paper?" Sander asked in a lowered voice.
Aldrich nodded, and Sander gasped, "You're quite the catch, considering your fa. You'd definitely be high on the list of targets for gold-digging won, not only for your wealth but also for the fa you can provide."
Aldrich lit a cigarette and offered, "Right, and I despise being used. I won't spend my life paying for... companionship."
Sander inquired cautiously, "You want to find ten n? What for? To intimidate her?"
"Aldrich smiled broadly and replied, 'Of course not! That would be so crass; it might as well be a cri. Is that really necessary? Just help find ten n, and I'll pay each of them two thousand pounds. I've set up a room with this lady at a hotel tonight; I rely forgot to ntion that I'll be there too. You send the guys over with my cash, they have their fun for two thousand each, and then they walk away. She'll end up with both the money and the experience—everyone's happy.'"
Sander shook his head at the idea. "That's not a given. Girls like her are ambitious; sleeping with you might not cost her anything since she could sell the story to the papers. If she can get close to you and et more wealthy people, she might even pay you to keep her company."
Aldrich kept smiling, replying serenely, "That's how it works. I pay for what I want; if she's willing, great. If not, I won't bother asking for my money back; it can be a fee for your friends' service. But she'll definitely be angry, fuming. She might cause a scene, but I'm prepared. I want those won with ulterior motives to understand that I'm not to be trifled with. Don't ever think of as an ATM or stepping stone. I loathe mixing emotions with ambition and fa."
Sander patted Aldrich's shoulder with understanding, picking up the phone. "Alright, I'll find a few buddies and let them earn so extra cash."
Aldrich nodded, stuffing the twenty thousand pounds into a paper bag and handing it to Sander. Then he picked up his phone to book a room at the Green Hotel.
Before leaving, he left the photo for Sander to pass on to his friends, ensuring they'd be at the hotel to et him.
As Aldrich drove ho, parking the car in the garage, he found the neighborhood remarkably tranquil under the dim streetlights. The Spaniards tended to eat later; it was already past seven when Villa's parents returned ho with a bag of groceries. Spotting Aldrich exiting the garage, the couple warmly invited him over for dinner.
Not one to turn down hospitality, Aldrich accepted their invitation for a al at the Villa's ho.
At the Green Hotel in East London, as the lights brightened, an elegantly dressed Katie Price arrived as expected, only to dash out of the hotel monts later.
Inside the lavish suite, ten n in nothing but their underclothes terrified the newly adult Katie, who fled in sheer panic.
Once she returned ho and her heartbeat settled, she imdiately called Aldrich.
At that mont, a satiated Aldrich was luxuriating in a bubble bath, stepping out to answer the phone before retreating to his warm soak once more.
"Mr. Hall, are you trying to humiliate ?"
"Did they not pay?"
"It's not about the money!"
"You've confused ; it's not about money? You nad the price at two thousand pounds, claiming it was worth it."
"You'll regret this! Mr. Hall, I've never t such a tasteless man as you!"
"Thanks, but there's no need to argue about who's more refined, Miss Katie Price. Please don't disturb again."
After hanging up, Aldrich closed his eyes, enjoying the bath. But it wasn't long before he picked up the phone to make another call.
"Why are you calling at this hour? It's still half an hour before ten."
Aldrich was naturally calling his girlfriend, recounting the day's events. Finally, his voice low, he murmured, "lanie, I want to sleep with you!"
"..."
"Sorry, I think I got a bit dizzy in the bath."
"I've been busy recording the album and haven't had ti to et. Aldrich, are you speaking from your heart?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Well, we've been dating for over six months, and I'm starting to suspect you might be gay."
"I'm just busy with work; your suspicions hurt ."
"Alright, okay, I apologize."
"I accept your apology. Good night."
"Hold on, there's sothing I want to tell you."
"What is it?"
"Aldrich, I also want to sleep with you! Good night."
Beep, beep, beep...
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