-Day 9-

"Percival, you've got some nerve calling me after that suck-fest yesterday," I taunt, answering my mobile on Monday morning.

"Oh, well, then, perhaps I'll give these tickets to someone who will support the team even if we lose," he replies.

"Don't you dare. And get a new horse, mate, yours can barely carry you anymore."

"I know. I'm working on it. Coach has one in mind for me. Hoping to check him out this afternoon, in fact. Granite is getting old, and you're right, he's having trouble carrying me now. He needs to retire and spend his day in a pasture giving it to willing mares, making new little horsies."

I snort. "I hope the new one works out in time for Saturday, then. Where are you?"

"Mum's. Meet me for lunch?"

"She cooking?" Percival's mum is the mum everyone dreams of having. Growing up, the house was always spotless, her food was amazing, and she doted on her giant baby boy. And me as well, his little friend who had no mummy. She was pretty, too, so I didn't mind. Still not bad on the eyes, come to think of it.

"Yeah. She's making a big pot of potato soup. And homemade bread to go with."

"Oh, man. The soup with the bacon and cheese and all that?"

"You know it."

"I'm there, mate."

"Bring Leon, too."

"Right. He'll be thrilled."

"Just don't tell him about the tickets. I only have two this time, and they're yours."

"Thanks, mate."

"I assume you have a little birdie to bring along?"

"Of course I do. Have to find out if she wants to come. She prefers action movies over romantic comedies, so I think it's a fairly safe bet."

"12:30," he tells me. "Don't be late or Mum will be unhappy."

"I would never dream of making your mum unhappy."

"Stay away from my mum," he warns, trying to sound menacing.

This is the paradox that is Percival. He's a huge, muscular oak tree of a man. But he's about as menacing as a puppy. I think it's his face. He's had the same one since he was about seven. It's like no one ever told his face to get rugged, or something. And he's also a very friendly, easygoing bloke off the jousting field. Birds call him "sweet" and "cute."

I always tease him that it's a good thing he wears a helmet during matches, or his opponents wouldn't feel threatened.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Your mum loves me."

"I know. She thinks you're the golden boy. That's the problem."

"She loves you more and you know it. Now shut it, I'm supposed to be working."

"12:30," he reminds me, as if I have a problem with punctuality. I don't.

"Piss off." I hang up on him and pick up my desk phone to ring Leon.

xXx

An hour later, my mobile rings again.

"Hey," I answer. "I was going to call you later." I feel my face smiling, but I'm really not certain why.

"Short notice, but are you free for lunch?" she asks. "I need to get out of here for a bit."

"Oh, bugger, I just made plans an hour ago. However," I say, "I am going to lunch with Percival Henderson, and he has tickets for me for the joust on Saturday. The Dragons are in town. Would you care to accompany me to the jousting match, my lady?"

"Good sir, I would be honored. Even though I'm disappointed I don't get to have lunch with you today," she says. "But if you're getting tickets, I forgive you."

"Tomorrow? Lunch, I mean? You and me?" I apparently have lost the ability to form sentences.

"Yes, definitely. I'll suck it up and eat my lunch here today and go out with you tomorrow. Where should we go?"

"Do you know The Rising Sun?"

"Yes, of course. Meet me there at one?"

"If we do 12:30, it'll be less crowded."

"12:30, then. How do you know Percival Henderson?"

"I've known him for years. We went to the same school. He frequently gets me tickets."

"Sefa is going to lose it. She has a huge crush on him," she tells me.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. It's beyond a crush, really. She knows all his stats and actually knows jousting better than a lot of men I know."

"Interesting. Is she pretty?"

She makes an exasperated noise at me.

"I'm serious. Percival is single and straight."

"Yes, she's prettier than me, in fact."

"I doubt that." Where the hell did that come from?

"You're sweet, but you haven't seen her," she argues, but I know she's smiling and likely blushing. I can hear it in her voice.

"All I meant is that if she's smart enough to keep track of jousting statistics, works as your assistant, which I assume she's good at, as well as pretty, Percival might be interested in meeting her. Is she single?"

She makes that noise again. "Yes. Goodness, you're like someone's old auntie, playing matchmaker."

"Arthur," my father materializes in my doorway.

"One second," I say.

"Is that your dad?" she whispers. Why is she whispering?

"Yes," I whisper back, and she laughs.

"I'll let you go. Lunch tomorrow. I'm buying," she tells me.

"We'll see," I say, and she snorts and hangs up on me.

"New girl already?" Father asks.

"What can I do for you, Father?" I sigh, ignoring both his question and the pang of guilt that hits me on hearing it.

"Mayor Godwin wants to meet with us Friday to see the plans for the rec center. Will this model be ready by then? You know how they love those things."

"Should be," I say. It should be an easy sell. Father and Godwin went to university together, and are old friends. Father isn't shy about using his connections to get us more contracts.

The only little fly in the ointment is the fact that Elena is Godwin's daughter. He wasn't mayor when I was with her, which I suppose is a good thing, but I don't know if he's forgiven me or not. It's been more than a year, so I guess I'll find out.

Sometimes it hits me that I seem to be spinning a massive spider web, snaring unsuspecting women, keeping them until I'm done with them, and then leaving the empty husks behind without looking back.

But it's not entirely my fault.

Is it?