– Look, boy, forget my number and find yourself a nice, model girl. I suggest you look in the library-there are plenty of them," I replied to his passionate accusation with a laugh.
– You can't just forget me! – Kurt hooked his fingers into my forearm. – I can't think of anyone, anything, but you!
– How romantic! But boy, you're so stupid," I said in an affectionate tone, still letting him touch me.
– Stop calling me boy!
Passersby stared at this scene of jealousy with rapt attention and smiled.
Kurt was furious. I was enjoying this little game, but I was still a little tired of his voice and mannerisms.
– If I ever see you here again, boy, you're in trouble, okay? – I said insistently, wanting to get rid of him at last. – I'll call the police and I'll get the court to ban you from coming within a mile of me.
By the way, there's already a loser like that. Woody. DJ at Toronto's biggest nightclub. He stalked me for two months, but I successfully and easily won my case in court, and the lovesick idiot had to leave town. And with a tarnished reputation.
– Don't act like a whore!" Kurt suddenly shouted loudly.
That phrase made me laugh out loud. There it was! Once again!
– Miss Mroczek? – Fred came out of the massive wooden door to the penthouse.
Fred is my eternal saviour. The doorman. A six-foot-two big man who's used to chasing away pesky admirers. He's used to these scenes and to the fact that I, quite often, turn up at home with another man who disappears the very next morning. I suspect he's in love with me.
– Fred! You're just in time, mate! – I exclaimed happily.
– I see you need my help, Miss Mroczek? – Fred asked in his bass voice, coming down the stairs to me and loser Kurt.
– As you can see. That impertinent man won't let me in the house! – I replied with a sigh.
Fred didn't hesitate.
– You're a whore! Everyone should know that! That blonde is a dirty whore!" Kurt shrieked as Fred grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, lifted him off the ground and shook him like a misbehaving puppy.
– Shut up and get out of here! – Fred rumbled, bringing Kurt back to the ground and giving him a very resounding kick in the arse.
– Pah-pah, boy! Thanks, Fred's mate! – I smiled cheekily at my saviour and, easily traversing the stairs in my ten-inch Jimmy Choo heels, entered the penthouse.