On the ninth day of Wicked Little Secrets, my true love gave to me . . .
Nine Randy Grandpas!
“I heard from the boys that you’re leaving for China,” the
earl yelled. He wore a high-collared coat, padded so as to restore his chest
and shoulders to their approximate build of forty years ago, and tight trousers
on his thinning legs. His hair flowed as wild as his addled mind. “Now, the
boys and I have been discussing your problems. They believe that what is wrong
with you is that you keep running away. That you think you’re going to find
happiness in some old thing in the sand. What else did we say… oh yes… that you
refuse to grow up.”
The “boys” were a bunch of graying men who, along with his
grandfather, had been terrorizing the clubs and gaming hells of Mayfair for the
last forty years.
“I would appreciate it if you would not discuss my so-called
problems with your friends,” he said, trying not choke on the earl’s powerful
cologne. “And I’m glad to see you finally got dressed.”
“You’re a fine one to speak. Vivienne came over here
yesterday, and you’re wandering about with your trousers loose and no shirt.
Now what kind of impression is that going to make?”
“Funny, if you hadn’t had your piece hanging out, she
wouldn’t have come over at all! You should apologize.”
“Apologize? Last time I darkened Gertrude’s door on account
of those actresses getting our addresses confused, she hit me with her cane. I
found it a bit exciting, I must say.”
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