The Little Old Lady Who Struck Lucky Again! by Ingelman-Sundberg Catharina

Author:Ingelman-Sundberg, Catharina
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781447274919
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2014-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

28

Kentha’s Heavy Metal Band were playing, and a hit from Iron Maiden was blaring out at top volume inside the club room. The lights had been turned off, and in front of the tables covered with empty beer cans, lit up by red and white candles, was a gang of half-drunk bikers and their girls. Drums and guitars were accompanied by loud roars and the unison clapping of hands when the Mad Angels bellowed in time to the music. Alongside the length of the bar counter, leather-clad types rocked back and forth grasping beer cans or with a stiff drink in their hands. Tompa, with his arm around the mannequin, was more drunk than sober. He had an empty whisky glass in his hand and talked and laughed at the same time as he hammered the beat with his left foot. With hazy eyes, he looked across the room with a happy smile on his lips. The place was jam-packed! Mad Angels had arrived with ten men, and fourteen of the Bandangels members were there as well as a whole bunch of real knockout babes. All of them had come to celebrate the Bandangels’ fifth anniversary in their new club rooms, and he and Jörgen had already received lots of praise for the set-up. The president of Mad Angels had said that at the next Mad Angels meeting the committee would recommend the Bandangels as full members. Tompa hadn’t felt so good since he got his first motorbike. He winked at a sexy blonde at one of the tables, and raised his glass. The girls they had invited were really dishy! Some of them belonged to the Mad Angels gang and you couldn’t touch them, but many of them were single. Tompa felt hopeful for the night ahead. That blonde one with the long hair and the high heels looked promising. He raised his whisky glass and winked at her again. The next second, a heavy fist landed on his shoulder.

‘I saw that. Don’t lay a hand on my woman!’ shouted a hundred-kilo giant in jeans and a black leather waistcoat. Tompa swivelled round and gasped for breath when he saw the silver logo on the guy’s chest. It was the vice-president of Mad Angels – Lennart Möre! The guy nodded towards the blonde girl and held up his fist so that Tompa felt the knuckle dusters with the Mad Angels emblem against his nostrils. He swallowed and tried to look cool.

‘No, no, take it easy. I’ve got a girl,’ Tompa lied. ‘I was only thinking about the prize-giving.’

‘The prize-giving? What prize-giving? Have you got permission from us?’ the vice-president asked.

‘Did I say prize-giving? No, I mean the raffle, of course. We need someone who can draw the raffle tickets, you know, and so I wanted to ask one of the guests.’ Tompa tried to wriggle out of it as best he could.

‘A raffle? Tombola and all that stuff? Well, if you want to. But just so you know, if you so much as look at my woman again, I’ll smash your nose.

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