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I called my stylist, Perry, for help

“Perry,” I said He was a concierge for rich people, procuring anything they asked for It paid to roll in dough because you could buy anyone or anything

“Mr Wainwright, hello!” he said “How can I help you?”

“Perry, question: I’ up for auction soon Can you handle that for me?”

Perry’s voice perked up “Of course, sir You know that jewelry is my specialty”

I didn’t, but it figured since Perry his on both pinkies

“Great, I’ll send over the details Do whatever it takes to get it, okay?”

He paused for a

“Do you mean no limits, sir? There’s no limit to how much I can bid?”

“That’s right,” I said “Like I said, whatever it takes”

Perry almost squealed then, the whine like nails on chalkboard

“Oooh, I’m so excited Yes, sir! Can’t wait!”

But before he could go on, I cut hi the necklace, see if there’s sos or so”

The personal shopper’s voice fell to a near-hush “You mean like a set?”

“Exactly like I set,” I growled, voice rough “Plus pick a dress for the lady, so, and a suit for me I’ll send over the sizes”