CHAPTER 11 – UP TO FELICITY'S
Felicity was all too happy to let Dennis Uppington carry her groceries when she saw the bloodstains on his shirt. Dennis, however, seemed the sort who would feel it necessary to explain to people why he was muddy and bloody. He was simultaneously shrinking inside himself and looking about for someone to apologize to, she thought. Richard, on the other hand, looked like a fellow who quite naturally got muddy and scraped up from time to time even while wearing office wear. As likely as not, children had dared him to play football, and he'd called their bluff, or something like that; that was the aura he gave off. If pressed, she suspected he'd wear his stains like a badge of honor, but not give out anything about their origins. She bit back a grin. Richard was one of her favorite agents, and had been since they met.
She led them up to her flat as if having old friends stop by to see how she was doing, leaving it to Richard to keep Dennis in line if they ran into anyone on the stairs (which, thankfully, they didn't).
Richard Hugh had never stopped by her flat, and would hardly have come in a car with bloodied seats unless he had a good reason, but she put a clamp on her curiosity. As soon as the door was closed, she ran to get a stadium blanket (she thought of it as a rug). "Shall I pretend we've left something in your car?" she asked. "And casually sprawl this over the back seat?"
"Wouldn't hurt, but don't dawdle," Richard said, tossing her the keys.
"I'll be careful," she said. "You're welcome to some of Michael's clothes. In there," she said, pointing toward the bedroom. "Although he'd probably rather you left his Manchester United shirts alone. He's not rational about his team stuff." She rolled her eyes.
"No red-blooded man is," Richard proclaimed.
Felicity made a face at him. "Shower's that way," she said, pointing. With that, she ducked out.
"Did I tell you she's a gem?" Richard said to Dennis.
Richard proceeded to stare at the bedroom door. He found he wasn't quite able to just walk in. Didn't seem right, somehow. He turned to look at the bathroom door. A shower would be nice, but he hardly wanted to get into a shower without having clean clothes at hand. Waltzing around in a bathrobe or towel was technically an option, but hardly a real option in a decent woman's apartment. Especially Felicity's. Especially if you took her Michael into consideration. "Shall we get ourselves a glass of water or something?" he said. He went to the kitchen, where he helped himself to a cola. Putting cola into an empty, middle-aged stomach wasn't going to help any, but he drank it in defiance of good sense. Dennis was staring at him. Richard guessed Dennis came from one of those families whose members would rather starve to death than open another person's fridge. "It's all right, Uppington. Felicity and I are old friends, and she'll not begrudge us fizzy drink, I'm sure."
"Not to belabor the point, but you sound more like you're trying to convince yourself of that, not me."
"Touché. I'd never in a million years invade someone else's refrigerator under ordinary circumstances. Only I'd rather do this than invite myself into the bedroom, or take a shower until I've got clean clothes in hand."
"That doesn't fit with what I've heard about you, somehow."
"What? Me?"
"That's right. Mr. Modesty himself, by no accounts. What's really up?"
"Look, I…" Richard faltered. "No, forget it," he said. He helped himself to cookies (biscuits, in Brit-speak), and wolfed them down. He went into the living room, considered sitting down, but remembered his disgracefully dirty trousers in time. He opted instead for standing about, sipping soda and taking in the comfortable, homey surroundings. He wondered what was taking Felicity so long.
He didn't like himself, coming to a nice young woman for help.
That his stomach was feeling increasingly upset wasn't entirely from pouring carbonated sugar water down his middle-aged gullet, and he didn't pretend it was. He really didn't like himself, coming to a nice young woman for help.
Not Exactly Allies Page 11