“May I help you, Sir?” a bored young man asked, looking up from his book behind the counter.
“No, thank you, I would just like to look around a bit, if you don’t mind,” Kevin said, immediately annoyed at the young man. He looked at the Claymore that was hanging on the wall in a glass case. A few minutes later, he asked the boy, “I am supposed to be meeting a Sam O’Mally about some repair work for a sword?”
“Sorry, Sam went to lunch. You can wait or come back if you want.”
“I think I’ll wait a few more moments, thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” the boy mumbled as Kevin turned his back. He heard the statement but chose to ignore it for the moment.
He looked around ten minutes longer and was about to leave when the front door opened and a tall young woman with rich, curly auburn hair and green eyes walked through the door. Her eyes fell on him, then on the young man behind the counter and grew cold. Her voice was soft, but Kevin detected a steel edge to it. “Edward, a word with you in my office, now!” she said as she took off the swordbelt from her hips.
Not two minutes later, Kevin heard Edward snarl, “You’ll regret this, you fucking bitch!” before storming out of the shop.
The young woman walked towards him, her hand out. “My name is Sam O’Mally. I’m terribly sorry I was running late; I lost track of time. You must be Kevin Richardson?” she said with a slight Irish accent.
“Yes, I am. But I…”
“Let me guess, you were expecting a man? Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Richardson, but if you would like to test my knowledge, feel free,” she smiled.
“I was expecting a man, actually, but I can say I’m far from disappointed. You are the owner of this establishment, then?” Kevin asked in a soft English accent.
“I am now, yes. The shop was given to me last month by the original owner; they are moving to Florida to retire and I know this business inside and out. I am very skilled at the usage of most of the weapons, except the Claymore and the Bastardsword; they are much too heavy and large for me to handle. I have the knowledge to identify, on sight, almost any weapon you put in front of me. I believe your message was that you had a family sword that is in need of repair?” she asked.
“That is correct, Ms. O’Mally. This sword was made for one of my ancestors in the 600’s. It was recently stolen from my home and when it was recovered, there were some minor flaws on it. I would repair it myself, but I just don’t have the time. I’m very busy with the upcoming opening of my new club in three days and have been searching in my spare time for a reputable ancient weapon repair shop.”
“Well, you don’t have to search further. I have a very reputable man that does excellent repair work. Do you have the sword with you? I would like to take a look at it. I may even be able to tell you how long it will take and how much you will be looking at spending.”
He took the sword and scabbard from the belt around his hips and laid it on the counter. Sammie walked behind the counter and picked up her small, wire-rimmed glasses, putting them on her nose and looked at the sword before her.
The sword wasn’t in that bad of shape; a few nicks and scratches and it needed to be sharpened and polished.
“How old did you say this sword was?” she asked.
“Made in the mid-600’s, I believe; why?” he answered her.
“Obviously, someone misinformed you; the sword is older than that. It was made in the early 500’s. Your family has taken very good care of this sword. Except for these minor flaws,” she said pointing out the minor knicks and scratches, “it’s in excellent condition. How long was this out of your possession, Mr. Richardson?” she asked.
“Two months. I can see that you were right about identifying weapons. You are right, of course, the sword was forged in the early 500’s; 510 to be exact. Also, price is no object when it comes to this sword,” Kevin said. She looked at him over the rim of her glasses, his green eyes catching hers. She saw that he was serious about the pricing and didn’t argue, nor did she lie about the price.
“For a piece this ancient, Mr. Richardson, you’re looking at about 2 – 3 thousand dollars for the repair. That’s just because of the age and the time involved that VooDoo has to spend on it. If you wait a few minutes, I can get him up here to take a look at it?”
“That would be fine, thank you. I’ll just look around a little more, if I may?”
“Sure, let me know if you need my help,” she said as she picked up the phone and hit the page button for the back room. “VooDoo, come to the front please.”
A few minutes later, a tall man in his early 30’s came to the front. He was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, boots and long black leather apron, his long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was only a little shorter than Sammie but Kevin could tell the young man was very strong and well built. “What you got for me to look at, chere`?” the young man asked in a heavy Cajun accent.
“This,” Sammie said indicating the sword and scabbard on the counter. “How long you think it’ll take you?”
“Damage is minor; nothing like I get usual, ya know?”
“How soon can I have my sword back?” Kevin asked. “As I told Ms. O’Mally, money is no object; I just want it back as soon as possible. I just got it back a week ago. I don’t want it gone any longer than necessary.”
“Can ya give me three days?” VooDoo asked.
“Is it possible for you to get it done in two?” Kevin asked.
“If I start now, sure. Cost ya a little extra; price goes up on rush and special requests.”
“That’s fine, just get it fixed.” Kevin turned to Sammie, “How much extra for the rush service?”
“Price total is going to be close to $5,000,” Sammie told him.
“That’s fine; I’ll be back in two days to pick up my sword. If there is a problem, here’s where you can reach me,” he said placing a small business card on top of the cash. He smiled at her look of slight surprise on her face then turned and walked out of the shop.
Sammie rang the sale and put the money in the time-lock safe. She looked at the card that he had left. It had his name, the name and address of his club - Renaissance Dreams - and his phone numbers. On the bottom corner, there was one word, over, with a small arrow. She flipped the card over and saw a short handwritten note.
Ms. Sam O’Mally, it would please me if you would come to the opening of Renaissance Dreams on Friday night. You will be on the VIP list. Bring a guest if you wish. I hope to see you there.
Sammie picked up the phone and called her roommate, Angel Davidson.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Angel, wanna go out with me to a new club on Friday night?” Sammie asked.
“Sure! Where?”
Sammie explained what had happened with Kevin and ended by saying, “I was just putting the money up when I saw he had written a note on the back. He said I could bring a guest. Come on, girl! We haven’t been out for a few months.”
Angel laughed, “Ok, ok! I’m there!”
