Dead Head by Skuse C. J

Author:Skuse, C. J. [Skuse, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Crime, Contemporary, Adult, Mystery, Humour, Romance
ISBN: 9780008312589
Amazon: 0008312583
Goodreads: 54494940
Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: 2021-02-18T08:00:00+00:00

‘Oh shit,’ I said, reading the message again, before Salomé grabbed it from me and scribbled down his number on the back.

‘Only if you’re interested, of course,’ she said, going to hand it to me but withholding it at the last second.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I spluttered, ‘of course I am,’ grabbing the note from her and holding it as though it was the map to the lost city of Atlantis.

‘Good. Because if you hadn’t been I’d have thought you really were a maniac. He’s special to me. And he’s been hurt before.’

‘Me and him both.’

‘He’s coming here in a few weeks to help me move premises. Maybe you could spend some time with him? He’d love to show you around the place.’

‘You’re moving?’

‘To a bigger spot, a few doors down.’

She was waiting for something – for me to commit to a definite yes. But I couldn’t decide if I wanted to inflict myself on Rafael. He seemed like a decent guy, despite obvious artistic dyslexia. And no good man deserved me.

So I said it. ‘I don’t know if I’m… what he needs.’

Salomé stepped back, seemingly shocked. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘I’m kind of high maintenance. Every rose has its thorn.’

‘Is that Jung?’

‘No, Miley Cyrus.’

She laughed. ‘Well, here is another one for you – every heart sings a song incomplete, until another heart whispers back.’

‘Ooh, that’s good.’

‘Plato. I think. Or the other one. Socrates. No, I think it’s Plato. My philosophy is a little rusty.’

‘Well, it was nice to meet you, Salomé. I hope to see you again.’ I pocketed the note.

‘Yes, I hope you see you again too, uh— sorry, I missed your name…’

And I said it, for the first time ever, without thinking – I said my brand-new name. The name I was going to have for the rest of my life.

All the way back to the Hacienda, the sky darkening, I chitter-chattered like an excited baby bird. Tenoch, one meaty hand on the steering wheel, one slinged-up arm leaning out of the window, kept his eyes on the road.

‘You seem happier now, gatita.’

‘Yeah, I am,’ I said, dabbing some of the cool calamine lotion on my bites with small pinches of cotton wool.

‘Good.’ He smiled at me – a dad smile.

‘And I thought of a new name.’ I told him what it was. His face bore no expression. ‘Well? What do you think? Is it white-bread enough?’

‘Yeah. It’s a good name. A pretty name.’

‘I went to this little art gallery and I met the lady who runs it.’ I screwed the lid back on the calamine. ‘And I said it when she asked me… that feels better already,’ I said, looking at all the chalky discs of lotion all over my legs. ‘Dad used to put calamine lotion on my chickenpox when I was little.’

‘You had chickenpox?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, when I was about nine. Why?’

He looked at me before placing a tender hand to my chin and turning it from one side to the other. ‘These scars, they chickenpox?’ He was referring to the one below my right ear and next to my nose.

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