”“Look, I can track down Rodney. I can get him back in here,” Jon pleaded. “You two worked great together.”“Ugh,” Holly grimaced. “Gross.”“Holly, what the hell? Are you still hung up on Sharon?” Jon crossed the line. Holly said nothing, clinching her teeth and pushing past Jon. “Holly! Come on, babe!”Holly was tired of fighting about it, she was tired of participating in homemade porn; she was tired of dating other men while her husband dated other women – she missed her sister and Sharon was all she could think about in the last four months.She fought back tears, looking out the window, feeling Jon approach her from behind. “Holly,” he whispered.“Just leave me alone!” She pushed away, rushing past him, down the stairs to the living room.Thirty minutes later, Jon appeared, dressed and ready to go out. “I’ll be back later. Might be in the morning,” he said, Holly on the couch, her back to him. She nodded her head and grabbed the remote.She had no idea which girlfriend he’d. Plus it was founded by a man who basically stole the original collection from the man who set up the first ever public museum in Britain. The handy thing is that they are always ready to open it up after hours for corporate hospitality events. They were really cooperative when I asked if I could hire the Egyptian Gallery to impress a few clients and perfectly happy for me to organise my own caterers; just as long as I didn't break anything, they'd said with a smile.I was sitting in the Morse Bar of the Randolph Hotel opposite the museum, looking out across Beaumont Street when I saw the cab pull up. Three women got out — Helen Stanhope and two others that I took to be two of the Questors. I was pleased, she was on time and obviously doing as she had been told. There was no sign that she'd brought any help but the snatch crew would be looking out for that. I saw two other women walking up Beaumont Street, waving to her. That made the full set as far as I was concerned. I watched as.
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