flirtatious smile.
Nick gave her a sheepish grin. He wasn’t used to Asian women coming on to him so unabashedly, but maybe there had been some rapid changes in their sexual mores while he’d been away. Nas wore western clothes that showed off her figure: well-cut jeans and a sweater tight enough for him to imagine the contours of her small breasts. She was Nick’s type. Except for the wedding ring. Nas might flirt like a western woman, but Asian women didn’t play away.
Nas answered the phone and Joe called Nick over to him.
‘Bob’s not been in yet.’
Nick picked up that day’s evening paper and turned to the story of some guy who’d got out on appeal after being cleared of a double murder. Then Bob arrived. He had a big paunch and facial hair sprouting in every direction. A clump here, a twisty bit there, a moustache that extended over his lips and began to curl upwards, the whole thing a salt and pepper combination with occasional bursts of brown. Beneath the beard, he could be any age from forty to sixty. Joe introduced them, explained what he wanted. They agreed a price.
‘I tend to knock off a bit later than this,’ Bob said, ‘after the school runs. Say I meet you here most days, between three and four. You drive me home. The car’s yours until you drop it off outside mine that night. Deal?’
Nick would spend his first hour every day driving for no pay then get caught in rush hour. But he was unlikely to get a better offer.
‘Deal.’
Nick’s insurance position was dodgy. They talked it over with Joe. He promised Bob he’d see him right if there was any kind of trouble. Bob, in turn, offered to leave Nick the flick knife he kept beneath his seat for awkward customers. Nick told him that carrying a weapon was too big a risk. He’d rely on the brawn he’d picked up in prison. He would carry a pair of round, metal rimmed glasses, like Joe’s, only with plain lenses. The two men looked enough alike to convince anyone checking the ID. Despite many years living in the same city, he and Joe had never had mutual friends.
The next afternoon, Nick got in early and had a go at chatting up Nas. Wouldn’t hurt to get in some practice at talking to a woman other than his sister-in-law. Whatever flirtation he’d picked up yesterday wasn’t there when it was just the two of them on their own. It had been a long while, but didn’t that usually work the other way round?
He picked up the only paper on the small, stained table by the door. When he saw which one it was, he nearly put the thing down again. The Sun held little Nick would describe as news, and this copy was, anyway, several days old. The headline was NEW LABOUR TOTTY TO MARCH . Nick glanced at the large, colour photo on the front page. The woman wearing evening dress was disturbingly familiar. He didn’t know who Jasper March was, but the Labour MP looked like a glammed up version of his ex, Sarah. He turned inside for the full story and his heart sank. The heading was: Sexy Sarah Gives Top Tory a Boner.
When asked about his relationship with sexy Sarah, March said ‘no comment’. Bone swore at photographers, but our picture tells its own story. Sarah wouldn’t be the first female MP to have the hots for the Tory heart-throb, who is separated from his wife. But she is the first from the Labour benches. What will Tony say when he finds out?
Nick had to read the story twice before he took it in. Sarah had become an MP. In Nottingham. When Joe arrived, he showed the paper to him.
‘Did you know about this?’
‘I don’t follow politics. Didn’t even vote last time. Here’s Bob.’
Nick nodded at Bob before going on. ‘This is my Sarah, the one I went out with for two years. And she’s an MP just down the road?’
‘I thought she joined the police,’ Joe said. ‘Isn’t that why you dumped her?’
‘She’s my MP,’ Bob interrupted. ‘Got in at a by-election two years ago. Nice lass. She came to the door. I voted for her.
Nick gave her a sheepish grin. He wasn’t used to Asian women coming on to him so unabashedly, but maybe there had been some rapid changes in their sexual mores while he’d been away. Nas wore western clothes that showed off her figure: well-cut jeans and a sweater tight enough for him to imagine the contours of her small breasts. She was Nick’s type. Except for the wedding ring. Nas might flirt like a western woman, but Asian women didn’t play away.
Nas answered the phone and Joe called Nick over to him.
‘Bob’s not been in yet.’
Nick picked up that day’s evening paper and turned to the story of some guy who’d got out on appeal after being cleared of a double murder. Then Bob arrived. He had a big paunch and facial hair sprouting in every direction. A clump here, a twisty bit there, a moustache that extended over his lips and began to curl upwards, the whole thing a salt and pepper combination with occasional bursts of brown. Beneath the beard, he could be any age from forty to sixty. Joe introduced them, explained what he wanted. They agreed a price.
‘I tend to knock off a bit later than this,’ Bob said, ‘after the school runs. Say I meet you here most days, between three and four. You drive me home. The car’s yours until you drop it off outside mine that night. Deal?’
Nick would spend his first hour every day driving for no pay then get caught in rush hour. But he was unlikely to get a better offer.
‘Deal.’
Nick’s insurance position was dodgy. They talked it over with Joe. He promised Bob he’d see him right if there was any kind of trouble. Bob, in turn, offered to leave Nick the flick knife he kept beneath his seat for awkward customers. Nick told him that carrying a weapon was too big a risk. He’d rely on the brawn he’d picked up in prison. He would carry a pair of round, metal rimmed glasses, like Joe’s, only with plain lenses. The two men looked enough alike to convince anyone checking the ID. Despite many years living in the same city, he and Joe had never had mutual friends.
The next afternoon, Nick got in early and had a go at chatting up Nas. Wouldn’t hurt to get in some practice at talking to a woman other than his sister-in-law. Whatever flirtation he’d picked up yesterday wasn’t there when it was just the two of them on their own. It had been a long while, but didn’t that usually work the other way round?
He picked up the only paper on the small, stained table by the door. When he saw which one it was, he nearly put the thing down again. The Sun held little Nick would describe as news, and this copy was, anyway, several days old. The headline was NEW LABOUR TOTTY TO MARCH . Nick glanced at the large, colour photo on the front page. The woman wearing evening dress was disturbingly familiar. He didn’t know who Jasper March was, but the Labour MP looked like a glammed up version of his ex, Sarah. He turned inside for the full story and his heart sank. The heading was: Sexy Sarah Gives Top Tory a Boner.
When asked about his relationship with sexy Sarah, March said ‘no comment’. Bone swore at photographers, but our picture tells its own story. Sarah wouldn’t be the first female MP to have the hots for the Tory heart-throb, who is separated from his wife. But she is the first from the Labour benches. What will Tony say when he finds out?
Nick had to read the story twice before he took it in. Sarah had become an MP. In Nottingham. When Joe arrived, he showed the paper to him.
‘Did you know about this?’
‘I don’t follow politics. Didn’t even vote last time. Here’s Bob.’
Nick nodded at Bob before going on. ‘This is my Sarah, the one I went out with for two years. And she’s an MP just down the road?’
‘I thought she joined the police,’ Joe said. ‘Isn’t that why you dumped her?’
‘She’s my MP,’ Bob interrupted. ‘Got in at a by-election two years ago. Nice lass. She came to the door. I voted for her.
Similar Books
