Sex on Tuesdays by June Whyte

Author:June Whyte [Whyte, June]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781611871005
Publisher: Untreed Reads Publishing
Published: 2011-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

13

Wednesday, 11:30 p.m.

Cruising through the night, I let the soft music wafting from the car’s player and the warmth from the heaters lull me into a contented drowsy state. Even Edward’s chatter contributed to my lethargy.

He must have asked me a question, and not getting an answer, decided to tap me on the shoulder. Blinking, I opened my eyes.

“Hey!” His voice was husky, as though talking through a haze of smoke. “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

“Mmm?”

“Doesn’t say much for my scintillating conversation.”

I hurried to convert my slack-mouthed drowsiness into a smile of apology. “No, no, I’m just resting my eyes,” I assured him, blinking rapidly. “Look, I’m sorry, Edward—it’s your car. Purrs like a kitten and runs so smoothly it’s making me sleepy.” I stretched my shoulders awkwardly. “Plus, today has been one very long, very eventful day.”

“Care to tell me about it?”

I shook my head. “Too long and too complicated. And anyway, I don’t want to spoil what’s been a lovely night.”

“Try me. I’m a good listener,” he said in that deep gravelly voice that had me wanting to spill my guts to him—probably learnt the technique in Gangster 101.

“Let’s just say I’m embroiled in the middle of a mystery that’s sucking me in way over my head. And I really don’t want to be there.” I snuggled deeper into the soft leather seat. With his gangland contacts, Edward could very well be a big help. On the other hand, I’d known him all of three hours—how did I know he wasn’t involved?

Time for a subject change.

“Why do you hate being called Eddy?” I blurted and immediately wished I could swallow my words. According to Megan this subject was way off-limits. And I was currently trapped in Eddy’s car travelling 100ks an hour on a lightly populated road in the middle of winter. Holding my breath, waiting for the explosion, I closed my eyes.

Instead, Edward laughed. A laugh that came from deep down in his well-built swimmer’s chest. I flicked my eyes open. Surely that meant he wasn’t going to reach across, remove his gun from the car’s state-of-the-art glove box, and drill a hole between my eyes.

“Megan been making me out to be a mega-villain, has she?”

“Um…well…”

“Don’t worry, it’s no big deal—merely embarrassing. Story goes, my Nanny always called me ‘little Eddy’ right up to and into my teens, and I loathed her for it. Made me feel like I was still in nappies. Hell, the old bat even embarrassed me when my friends came over.” He paused—as though this scene still caused old wounds to re-open. I watched his hands strangle the steering wheel. “Naturally, the other boys teased me rotten about it. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I finally convinced my parents to sack the woman. And ever since that day, I’ve insisted on being called Edward.”

With a shiver at the emphasis on insisted, I wondered what happened to those who forgot. Cement boots in shark-infested water? Target practice for hoods with L plates? Snack time for his tank of piranhas?

Edward’s mobile let out a piercing ring.

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