Read Online Lovesick by Alex Wellen - Free Book Online Page B

who has insulted him somehow. Before long, an overweight man in his forties, in heavy jewelry, storms out. Enraged, he tugs at the door violently; it’s locked. The assistant finally buzzes Mr. Bling out.
    “Send in my dear, dear friend, Sidney Brewster!” Igor bellows.
    We stand, take three steps to our left, and we’re inside his office.
    There sits Igor Petrov in all his sweat and glory. The springs on his brown leather chair let out a desperate squeal when he shifts in his seat. He is forty, fifty, sixty; it’s impossible to tell behind that bushy red mustache. The three top buttons on his white dress shirt are left open while the rest are poised to pop. The black suspenders from his black pants bow out over his shirt. Igor’s toupee, dark brown and matted, is a few degrees off center.
    Seated next to Petrov is a dead ringer for Mr. Bling—presumably Bling’s twin. Strewn about on the disheveled desk are hundreds of thousands (millions?) of dollars in diamonds and a gold scale.
    Igor Petrov has on itty-bitty reading glasses, and his head is buried in a
Wielder’s Beginners Crossword Puzzle Book.
    “Iggie!” Sid greets him.
    “Quick, Brewster,” Petrov yells without looking up, “A five-letter word for Australian native dog. Third letter is an ‘N.’”
    Sid closes one eye. The other bounces wildly around in his massive noggin in search of the answer.
    “DINGO!” Sid declares with a raised finger.
    Igor fills in the answer. In pen.
    “Last one,” Igor pleads. “A seven-letter word for deer. Last letter is ‘U.’”
    Igor, Mr. Bling #2, and I study Sid like sport spectators. Sidmentally flips through the possibilities, and then squeaks out: “Caribou?”
    “CARIBOU!” Igor celebrates, penning the answer and tossing the book onto his desk.
    Igor takes his time getting up, but then pulls Sid toward him, swallowing Sid whole in a bear hug.
    “So this is the grandson you mentioned on the phone?”
    Sid is old enough to be my grandfather, but there is no family resemblance whatsoever. I’ve got reddish brown hair. Sid has none. I have a fair complexion and tend to blend in with eggshell-colored walls, and Sid is perpetually tan. I’m tall and soft. Sid is little and lean.
    “God Almighty, you didn’t mention the kid was blind,” Igor cries.
    As I reach to take off the clunky shades, Sid lunges for my hand.
    “Birth defect,” Sid laments. “He can see, but just barely. Not much of a speaking voice, either,” he says, helping me to my chair. “Hasn’t uttered a word of common sense in years. Now those ears … that’s a different matter altogether,” he adds. “Super hearing the kid’s got. A regular Aqua Man.”
    “Your grandfather’s a good man.” Igor talks to me like I’m a simpleton.
    “You need to set this kid up real good, Iggie. The boy is proposing to my only goddaughter,” Sid says authoritatively.
    “So what are we talking about here?” Petrov asks, slapping both hands flat on the desk and leaning in.
    The oversensory experience, the stress, the sunglasses—I’m having a “senior moment.” I can’t remember anything Sid’s taught me about precious gems.
    Sid answers on my behalf. “Andy is thinking a one carat, VS2 with no inclusions or blemishes, virtually colorless, round, ideal cut.”
    I nod in agreement.
    Petrov tips back in his chair and plays with his mustache, thinking it over. Mr. Bling #2’s cell phone starts playing Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” He answers the call. Cupping the phone, Bling #2 asks Petrov whether he’d be willing to knock two grand off on a three-carat G stone.
    Petrov slowly leans over and smacks Bling #2’s head smartly, causing Bling’s slim cell phone to fly across the floor.
    “Richie, that’s going to be a no,” Bling #2 yells, searching for his phone.
    Digging through his desk drawers, Igor finds what he’s looking for.
    “Here,” he says, carelessly tossing Sid a small plastic envelope. “One point five