Page 6 of Something Borrowed

“Isthishow you get so many men out of their clothes?” Joe says in a tone of revelation.

“I’m going to get done for this,” Nigel says in a dire voice. “The mayor of fucking London will have my licence. I can’t stop here. I can’t go there. I’m pretty sure I’ll end up carrying people on my back the way that man is going.”

“Well?” I say to Bobby.

He hesitates and then grins. “Yeah, of course.”

He strips off his white shirt and then pauses. “What am I supposed to wear, Raff?”

“Oh.” I fumble for the T-shirt I was wearing. “How about this?”

He takes it from me. “You want me to wear a shirt with Southwark Fun Run written on it? I don’t know about that, babe. People might think I’m energetic.”

I wink. “I seem to remember you are. Think of the hundred quid and tickets for a show.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, why not.”

I retrieve my wallet from my jeans pocket and take a quick glance inside. I look back at Joe. “How much money have you got on you?”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Fifty quid.”

“Great. Hand it over.”

I add Joe’s fifty to mine and hand it to Bobby along with my business card. “Nice doing business with you. Ring me on that number tomorrow, and I’ll sort out your tickets.”

“That’s great, but you should know that I’d have done it for another shag,” he says, winking at me before walking back to the bus stop.

“Is your cock made of gold?” Joe enquires.

“It’s much more precious than that.” I settle back in my seat. “Okay, Nigel. Drive like the wind, please.”

“You are aware that this is bloody London, sir. Even the wind gets charged for using the roads here.” He signals and pulls into the road again.

Joe is looking at me, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” I ask.

“Is there a street corner anywhere where wewon’tfind one of your conquests?”

“Maybe in Kidderminster.”

He taps his fingers on his jean-clad thigh. “Where’s Stan?”

I blink at the change of subject. “At Bennett’s house, I expect.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” I ask, irritated. “Why did you make that sound?”

“I can’t help noticing that your wild behaviour has stepped up a few thousand notches lately.”

“I cannot keep up with your wild changes of subject when I’m sober, let alone hungover to my eyeballs.”

“It’s all connected.”

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