Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [32]
‘What about dinner tonight?’ he said after a pause.
‘Fine.’ I felt instantly nervous. I enjoyed being around Tozzi but I didn’t want him thinking I might be a quick fix of ‘whatever’ while his wife was away. The fine line we were treading between work, friendship and flirtation needed to be directed back towards the work end. ‘Business, of course,’ I added.
‘Of course. Anything else?’ he said in a deeper voice.
‘No. Your turn.’
‘Mine was a personal question. Now that we’re catching up later, I’ll ask you then.’
‘Oh, okay.’ OMG, the waiting would kill me!
‘I’ll pick you up at seven thirty,’ he said.
‘No. Let me pick you up.’ Antonia was away so there’d be no chance of running into her if I went to Tozzi’s house.
‘Okay. But make it from Eireen’s. I have to go over and hang a picture for her.’
Eireen, Nick’s tiny but terrifying mother, and I got on well, in a pour me another sherry, young lady kinda way.
‘Sure,’ I said, turning away from the booth to walk back towards the pits.
Nick hung up without saying goodbye. Almost immediately my phone rang again.
‘Tara?’
‘Ed?’
‘Yeah. Who else?’
Apprehension twisted my insides. ‘I thought maybe you’d put me on your Dangerous Hazards list,’ I said lightly.
‘Well, yeah. But that was a while ago.’
We both laughed. That was good.
‘Martin’s got me that swimwear job and I was wondering if you’d come with me?’
Me. At a male swimwear shoot? My mind boggled. ‘Sure, but, uh, why?’
‘Sounds kinda lame, I know,’ he said, ‘but it’s my first one. I’ve done underwear before, but that was in a studio. This is at the beach. I just wanted some company.’
‘I’m working up at the racetrack all week,’ I said, trying not to show how pleased I was.
‘The shoot’s Friday afternoon at four.’
‘Should be fine. I finish here before that.’
We talked a few more details and he hung up just as I got to the occupied garages in the pit lane.
This time I began with the Moto-Sane team. Bolo stood anxiously inside the roller door, watching over his mechanic’s shoulder as the guy peered into the petrol tank of a black Honda CBR 1000cc street-legal sexy beast. Lu Red stood to one side next to an attractive blonde.
‘I think there’s something in there,’ said the mechanic.
Red and the woman exchanged looks while the guy continued prodding about inside the tank.
‘Got it,’ said the mechanic, carefully retracting a pair of long-nosed pliers. Clamped between their ends was a piece of fuel-drenched rag.
‘What the fuck!’ said Red. ‘For shit’s sake, Clem.
How did you manage that?’
The mechanic straightened up, his face flushed. His tan aura flattened into a hard brown. ‘You think I did this? What do you think I am – a fucking idiot?’
He thrust the pliers forward and dropped the rag onto Red’s sneakered foot. Fuel splashed onto the woman’s sandal and she gave a little squeal.
‘You fuckin’ –’ began Red.
‘Hi,’ I said.
They all froze and turned around.
‘Anyone like to put in an order for food from the van?’
Bolo gave me a strained smile and nodded. ‘C-come in. It’s Tara, isn’t it?’
I pulled my phone from my pocket and stepped up close to the bike. Red kicked the soaked rag away with his foot and the mechanic retreated to the back of the garage.
‘Would you like something too?’ I asked the woman brightly.
Up close she was beautiful. Her face was perfect but for a thin scar that tapered from one corner of her mouth down under her chin. She had straight, silky blonde hair, a tiny waist and killer nails. And the way her aura was interacting with Lu Red’s, it seemed the pair had something going on.
‘No. My boyfriend might, though,’ she purred, putting a possessive hand on Red’s arm.
Her ploy was so see-through I wanted to laugh. She’d picked me for a groupie and was marking her territory. I wanted to say, ‘Puh-lease, I only date men over six feet tall,’ but I kept my mouth shut this time and looked at Red.
He was staring at Clem with an expression sourer than JoBob’s lemons. ‘Uh, yeah. Chicken and mayo on wholemeal. No butter,’ he said.
‘Drinks?’
‘Coke.’
‘Righto.