Page 22 of Stripped

"Does that mean Pim can come back when she wants?" Paul asked, picking back up on the conversation.

"Of course," Peter said. "The sooner, the better."

"Thank God, I can't lift Catriona another day, she doesn't help at all," Paul said, rubbing his shoulder for emphasis. "It's like picking up a Highland coo."

Wraith cleared his throat. Pim nudged him with her elbow to keep quiet. He wouldn't understand that nasty comments were not only accepted, but often characteristic of the ballet world. Thick skin was required. "The solicitors are reading the will in the afternoon, but I can come for the morning."

"Good," Peter said. "I want to run the coda from act three and the pas de deux. You're missing something, Paul."

"It's Catriona's fault. I can't do it without Pim. It's why she's my partner."

Wraith's phone rang. "Excuse me. I have to take this." He made his way back to the corner.

A gentleman in a cheap suit with a paunch belly approached them. "Primrose McNeil?" he inquired.

"Yes," she said.

"I'm Charlie McGuire from The Scottish Sun. I had a question about your grandfather." He pulled a reporter's notebook from his front pocket.

"This is a private party," Peter said. "How did you get in here?"

Paul put his arm around her protectively.

"Can you tell me if the allegations against your grandfather are true. Is he Glasgow's biggest drug lord?"

"Get the hell out of here," Peter yelled.

"What are you talking about?" Pim took a step forward.

"I have a witness who will testify your grandfather was the largest distributor of opioids in western Scotland. Some called him the Godfather."

Pim's heart sunk. They were the same rumors she had heard before. The day was catching up to her and she was no longer able to keep the smile plastered on her face. "You fucking piece if shite." She pushed the man in the chest hard enough to cause him to take a step back.

"Can I quote you on that?" he asked, putting his pencil behind his ear as he readjusted his tie.

People were starting to turn around and stare and she felt the room closing in around her. She needed air and a place where she could think by herself. "Piss off," she said, and pushing past the reporter, she grabbed her coat from the hostess table and ran out of the restaurant.

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