Right Into Place

Six

It seemed enjoyable enough.

I squeezed through the number of people clamouring over Lego blocks, to take pictures either for their jobs or personal use like posting selfies in their social media accounts. Other than journalists, that's another type of crowd I tend to avoid, teenagers and their smart phones.

I took a few pictures with my phone and bought some limited edition items. Truth is, at the shop, everything is not from 2000 onwards. . . Yet, I buy some most of the time and store them in my room.

I've no idea if I'll sell the shop or pass it to my future children. Right now, I've got no plans for either. First of all because I have no other job options at the very moment --unless I want to work with my brothers and sisters-- and secondly, I haven't got children.

Again, Franco called me whilst I was in the event so I've got to find a private place to speak, the loo.

After a few moments of dodging through people's arms and such, I finally got to my destination, still with my phone on my hand. Nothing exciting happened, except maybe, I accidentally tackled the Lego mascot but he didn't see me.

"Harry, where are you, really?" Franco asked, partly laughing as though he is drunk. Well, he did sound like he is though it's still on the very first stage and not full-on drunk.

He sounded as though he's in a party and everyone is yelling around him I had to keep my phone a bit distanced from my ear.

"Denmark," I replied, not bothering telling him I'm in a toy convention. Whatever, the Styles family runs their business on toys, either factories or large companies or the smallest scales.

"You know, one would think you could've brought your girlfriend there with you. But, no. Last I checked, she is outside your shop."

I blinked a few times, "I'm sorry, what?" Did he just bloody say my girlfriend is right outside my shop?!

"You could have at least been a gentleman and gave her a key. I mean, lad, that's not the Styles way." His tone is rather light whereas I am still befuddled but stern as well.

"No, there has to be some mistake, I--"

"Harry, you've got to understand that you should not leave your girl outside. Grant her entrance, be a bloody gentleman. How do you suppose you're going to get yourself a wife with that type of attitude? Remember what I told you? Ladies. . . fall. . . for. . . the gentleman rather than those daft pricks who call themselves bad boys and gangsters. Little do they know, they all act like fools proving themselves as faddists."

I almost questioned him about his second from the last statement as being a gentleman is not for the appreciation of ladies but rather a choice whether or not you want to be one.

"Alright, I got the life lessons. But what were you talking about a girlfriend outside my shop?" I asked, I've got a couple of girlfriends in the past and there is only one girl who keeps visiting me these days.

Then I realised it's Thursday.

No, please not Miss Swift. Please not her.

"Your girl. Pretty one. Smiles a lot," he replied as if that makes sense. Though since my thoughts were focused on Miss Swift before he started talking, she was the one that stood out from the list of ex-girlfriends. . . and she was not even supposed to be there.

"Co, I have no girlfriend at the very moment," I said, coming clean.

Yet, he ignored me. . .

"It was drizzling and she was right outside the shop! Come on, mate, didn't I teach you about those? When you're going somewhere else and she's not busy, make sure she always comes with you, with your share of inheritance, you could travel the universe your whole life and still had a load to spare. Don't get cheap, now."