The Bespoke Hitman by Sam Millar

Author:Sam Millar [Sam Millar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788490375
Publisher: Brandon
Published: 2018-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom … And your mind is moving low.

Jefferson Airplane, ‘White Rabbit’

‘Wow!’ Alice said, entering the apartment, taking in its opulence in one sweeping gaze. ‘What a place you have, Mister Bailey.’

‘Jack. No Mister.’

‘Okay, Jack.’ She smiled coyly, making her way over to the enormous show-window centred in the living room and gazing out on the panoramic night view. ‘Who’d have thought dirty old Belfast could look this beautiful?’

Down below, the streets, fast-moving wisps of car lights brushed against the darkness, all forming a conglomerate of electric join-the-dots.

‘Distance gives a cleansing appearance.’ He reached towards the drinking cabinet. ‘Would you like something to drink?’

‘No thank you.’ From her handbag, she removed a Betty Boop lighter and matching cigarette case. Clicked the case open, exposing a family of homemade reefers. ‘I prefer these. Do you mind if I smoke?’

‘Can you do it out on the balcony? I’ve numerous paintings that are sensitive to the slightest change in their environment. I have to be careful with them.’

‘Not a problem. I like that in a man.’

‘What?’

‘Sensitivity and caring.’

They both stepped out into the balcony. The night air was cold, but in a refreshing sort of way. She held the Betty Boop case out to him. He declined. She selected a reefer. Lit it, then inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds, before sending contrails down her nostrils.

‘You look like you needed that.’

‘I did.’ She sucked on the reefer again, closing her eyes, allowing the smoke to slowly filter from her mouth in a very sexy, seductive manner. ‘Helps me …’

‘Helps you … face the likes of me?’

She opened her eyes, now slightly glazed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It can’t be easy, what you do.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s a business. I’m a professional. I make good money. Pays the bills. Anyway, if all my clients were like you, well then.’

‘The money, you mean?’

‘Not just that. Your whole persona, style, good looks.’

‘Good-looking, I am not!’

‘Oh, you don’t know just how good-looking you are. Men like you attract women, like moths to a flame. There is something dangerous about you, something that says “fuck with me and suffer the consequences”.’

‘Don’t hold back.’ He laughed. It sounded rusty, unused and foreign.

‘Plus, you smell nice.’

‘Is that an essential requirement?’

‘It helps! Some of the men I’m introduced to haven’t washed in days. They sit in the club, smelling of sour sex and stale alcohol. And some of them can be mean.’ She leaned in and kissed him. ‘But not you. You’re kind.’

‘You know me how long? Less than an hour?’

‘Don’t smirk. I can tell you’re kind. I’m a good reader of people. There’s a sorrow in your eyes. Even when you smile, it remains. Something … wounded. You’ve suffered in the past, but your kindness is there, in the darkness.’

He suddenly felt uncomfortable.

‘Let’s go inside.’ He guided her down a landing, and into the master bedroom.

‘It doesn’t disappoint, Jack. For a single fella, you’ve got great taste.

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