Jackson is hovering by the door looking awkward, seeing as I have been in the lingerie department for the best part of an hour, and it’s obvious he doesn’t normally go knicker shopping with his wife. I told him not to come with me, I was quite happy to have a day going solo, but he got one sniff of me in the lobby and that was it. With Alexi in the building, there was no way he was going to let me wander off without an escort.
He’s my shadow for the day and as much as I told myself I needed solitude, he’s been pretty good company; Carrying bags, making jokes, being a sunny personality in my outing. He doesn’t know that today is any different to any other day, or so I assume. Although a couple times he has looked at me like he wants to say something, and he is being way more amenable than normal. I mean, usually, by now he would be looking fed up with my hours of retail therapy, instead of standing guard by the door with a perma-smile on his face as though he is having the best time ever.
‘I won’t be long,’ I call over to him, and the shop assistant milling nearby looks to me, then him with a strange look. She’s trying to summarise if he is a weird husband who has a serious avoidance of sexy underwear or if I’m some sort of celeb with a bodyguard. Jackson does have that aura of security and the trademark black suit and doorman jacket is a massive giveaway. He’s just missing the earpiece today to finish off the bodyguard kit.
The reality is I’m nobody, with an overbearing Alexi who won’t let me out of Carrero sight for even a shopping trip. Santagato has been at the club since that day and he hasn’t given me a second glance, so I am not sure if he is still a threat anymore. I guess probably because the hostility between Alexi and me is pretty obvious to anyone capable of watching us for more than five minutes. Santagato can’t miss the fact we are not exactly cuddling up all cosy, and maybe has deemed me unworthy of interest. I don’t want to ask Alexi about it in case it just gives me a reason to feel unsettled.
I wave the girl over and hand her my armful of purchases, tired of picking out sexy underwear that no man is ever going to see, and yet I still want it all. Looking good for myself is one of the few high points in my day. I follow her to the desk to get them rung up.
* * *
Outside on the street, Jackson toddles ahead to put the bags in the boot of our car, and the smell of a hot dog vendor further along the pavement catches me. I haven’t had a street dog in so long and the smell makes me instantly crave what I cannot see, waving to Jackson that I’m heading left and he quickly rushes to throw the bags in and follows me at speed.
It’s not often I walk around the streets on a shopping trip; we normally head for my favourite stores, and he’s very good at car to door transport when Wes is with us and can deposit and collect us without parking issues.
Jackson spies the hot dog vendor too and gets that same face he gets when we visit the sorbet shop. Wide-eyed childish excitement and I can practically see him salivating. The guy likes to eat and despite great DNA he is a lot more padded around the midriff than his cousins. Family resemblance is strong, but Jackson is just a lot cuddlier than most of the hard-bodied people in his family. I am guessing by the fact he practically lives at the club he has never been to a gym in his life, and has a serious affliction to junk food, is probably why.
My kind of buddy.
Mico and Alexi are definitely gym besties, I have seen the two of them come swaggering in with holdalls and sports towels, smelling of shower wash and looking decidedly slimmer. It’s a ritualistic thing with them and I can’t say I am complaining. Alexi has a body that melts women’s clothes off and I enjoy the eye-candy even if he is a complete nightmare sometimes.
‘All the trimmings!’ Jackson is ahead of me already and gives me a questioning look as he turns for my order.
‘Same?’
I nod in answer and move off to browse the tourist stall next to the hot dog stand, while Jackson chats away to the street vendor as he makes us two fully loaded dogs piled with onions and relish and extra mustard. The smells have me drooling too, but I don’t like standing over the steaming cart and stinking out my hair with smoked dogs. I keep my distance and spin the nearby display tower to amuse myself while we wait.
Distracted by lots of garish tourist tat on show, plastic Statues of liberty, foam hats and oversized sunglasses, I turn the little turnstile and catch sight of something that makes me instantly giggle—Ridiculously so. A smile plastering across my face and brightening up my mood tremendously.
It’s a pair of men’s socks, white, crisp and longish with a black silhouette of the New York’s skyline around the base. Right above there’s a little black crown and the text in bold capitals ‘Kingpin of New York’ around the ankle area.
I don’t know why I find this absolutely hilarious and Alexi comes to mind, but I do and laugh so hard on seeing them that tears come to my eyes and blur my vision instantly; A bubbling and fizzing swirl of inner amusement as I lose the ability to stand still and end up bending to stop myself getting a stitch from too many hysterics. I couldn’t even imagine him wearing these but the thought of it is hilarious.
‘You okay?’ Jackson looks me over and the only explanation I can have for my complete overreaction is my fragile emotional state today, but then I get a visual of Alexi wearing nothing but these socks and I start hyperventilating with hysteria so intense it only makes my sides hurt more. Crushing ache in my ribs and my stomach cramps up with the effort of exertion. Laughing so much I start choking on thin air.
‘Are you okay? Really?’ Jackson is by me in a flash, patting my back and trying to get out of me what is so funny. All I can do is point at the ridiculous socks and laugh more, on the verge of dying because I cannot stop long enough to take a proper breath and my chest is caving in on me too. Tears run down my cheeks and that damn image of a naked ‘Sexy Alexi’ and these damn ugly socks is killing me.
Jackson doesn’t get it, which only makes me feel dumber, this thing funnier, and I cry laugh in pain because it’s given me about five stitches now. I don’t laugh like this very often and I think my body is having an all-out stroke from the experience.
‘You like those?’ He asks warily, handing me napkins for my runny face as I try to calm down and catch my breath, but all I can get out is …
‘…. For … Alex … eee …’ and I set off again. Giggle overload, and Jackson starts laughing at me because I must look so ridiculous. It feels so good to laugh this way and yet also extremely sore.
Jackson sees the funny side when he picks up a pair, examines them a bit more closely, and grins. He shakes his head and hands me them as though that’s what he thinks I want.
‘I think he might suit them.’ He winks cheekily and I finally start gasping in air to stop myself before he sets me off again, clutching my sides and straightening up to pull myself together.