Page 33 of The App Trap
“Wha…” I bumbled.
“Oh, what’s this?” said the male officer, removing a crumbled ecstasy pill from my hoodie pocket.
“No, no, no…. it’s his! He chased me out of his house after trying to give me drugs and I had to take it from him bec…”
The male copper interrupted. “Who?”
Art had disappeared. I was taken outside the station, and on the way, I explained candidly the events of the morning, topping off the tale by informing them that my brother was a copper and would totally vouch for me never using drugs.
What’s more, I offered to take them round to Art’s flat on the promise of a bigger bust. There were at least three other pills in there, crumbling away in that bowl. I mean, he was no Mr. Nice, but still, it’d certainly take the heat off me. My breathlessness seemed to add a certain credibility to my story, and my face was way too cheeky-looking to be a mugger. Also, the pill had turned into nothing more than a bunch of crumbs, so would it really be worth arresting me?
Well, it was in the hands of the Gods now. I was certainly hoping someone, somewhere was listening to my prayers.
Chapter
Eleven
“You usedmyname?!” Finn snapped across the breakfast table the next morning.
“Yeah, but I was innocent,” I said, stuffing my phone charger into my empty man-bag.
“True, but if any of my lot hear about this, they’ll think I live with a sex addict.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them thatyou'rea sex addict too.”
“What do you mean?” asked Finn with a squint.
“Nothing,” I said, casting my mind back to last night when I found his phone unlocked on an NSA Dating message box.
He warily went back to his honey-nut Cheerios, locking his phone in the process.
As I walked out into the hallway, I noticed a hand-written letter on the doormat. One didn’t come across many items of that kind anymore, so I was quite wary, and immediately thought that it was a complaint from an irate neighbour. I couldn’t fathom what anyone would be complaining about, though. Neither of us spent enough time in the flat to causeeven the quietest of disturbances. The most noise that was ever made in there was when Finn vacuums, which was once in a blue moon anyway.
It turned out that it was a letter from the landlady. She was in a bit of financial trouble, so had to put the flat on the market, which meant that we’d have to start looking for somewhere else to live. How dreadfully annoying. Still, the landlady said that she’d be happy to give us both £500 for the inconvenience, which was incredibly civil of her.
I left the flat in the foulest of moods. Finn had agreed to kick off the flat hunting as he was on night shifts that week and was pottering around the flat all day.
I rushed along the road to the tube station at double pace. I had taken the morning off to accompany Mum to her chemo session, so was on my way to hers. My car was knackered, so I was going to drive her to the hospital in her Land Rover instead.
As I passed the coffee shop by the station, I noticed a familiar face through the window. It was Harry, the very man who had set me off on this path to the dark side.
He was talking to an extremely boring-looking man dressed in a grey faux-leather jacket. His look was topped off with a monk-like haircut and a goatee that was about a centimetre too bushy and pubey for my taste.
Harry caught a glimpse of me as I walked past. He smiled, then raised his eyebrows as if to say,‘Save me.’
Aha. He must have been on a breakfast-date. An awful one as well. That brow-raise was some kind of bat-signal. Got it.
I burst into the coffee shop and swaggered up to the till, ordering an oat milk flat-white to bide my time until I figured out how I was going to steamroller this date. I’d never actually had a flat-white, or oat milk. It justseemed like the right thing to do. Turned out it was actually quite nice.
Looking over, I had almost forgotten how spectacular Harry was in every single way. I’ve always been a firm believer in fate, so was going to perform this rescue and win back the heart of my best online date thus far.
I spent the next few minutes trying to work out rescue scenarios. I thought about going over and making out that I was either his drug dealer, husband or pimp. Or better still, all three.
I spent so long chugging over the various scenarios, that the boring-looking chap got up to leave. Then Harry beckoned me over.
“Shit, I totally thought you were gonna come over and pretend to be my dealer, husband or pimp. Or all three,” said Harry.
“Funny you should say that,” I replied.
