Death Flight by Sarah Sultoon

Author:Sarah Sultoon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orenda Books
Published: 2024-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

They speed back through the deserted shopping centre in silence. Outside, dusk is falling, tuning the sky’s blue up to purple.

Paloma turns in the direction of her apartment. ‘Are you coming up?’

Jonny slows, trying to catch her eye. ‘To yours?’

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ he answers, quickening his step, brain moving in an altogether different direction. The last time he set foot in his own apartment there was a photo of a dismembered corpse lying on the doormat. If it wasn’t for what’s still hiding under his floorboards he’d ideally never return there. And he’s got a whole lot more questions for Paloma. But what is she actually asking him – if he’ll walk her home? If he’ll come inside and talk? Eat, even? Or share a drink? Suddenly he finds himself having to hurry to catch her up. He’s never been inside her apartment before.

‘It’s just,’ she says quietly, ‘after everything that’s happened, you know …’

‘Right, right.’ Jonny stares at the sky.

They remain in awkward silence until they reach her apartment building. A neighbour buzzes them in. He’s still lagging when Paloma reaches her front door on the top floor.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asks.

Jonny can’t help but snort. He’s been hungry for what feels like days now.

‘It’s only bread and cheese,’ she adds.

‘Sounds great,’ he answers hurriedly.

Paloma shoves open her door. Following her inside, Jonny finds that he’s holding his breath.

‘Beer?’ She kneels to open her fridge; it’s in the exact same spot as Jonny’s. He eyes the rest of her apartment – laid out identically to his bar a few more books in her bookcase, a few extra cupboards on the walls.

‘Are you having one?’

‘Sure.’ She pulls out a large bottle of Quilmes, puts it on the table between them, followed by a cellophane bag of sliced white bread and a couple of packets of processed cheese and ham.

‘Sandwiches de miga,’ Jonny pronounces, trying to get some sort of conversation going. An Argentine staple – sandwiches made from only the spongiest parts of a plain white loaf. But Paloma just throws him a frown.

‘I’ve always hated crusts,’ he adds. ‘I just never imagined anywhere would be able to turn it into a selling point when it comes to ham and cheese toasties.’

He waits for Paloma to sit down before following her lead. There’s a hiss and sigh as she snaps the cap off the bottle of beer, then takes a deep draught directly from the bottle.

‘Ham and cheese or just cheese?’ Jonny ploughs on, untying the plastic bag of bread.

‘Not for me. You go ahead, though.’ She puts the bottle down and pushes it towards him. ‘And don’t let me drink all this.’

Jonny swaps bread for beer. The ice-cold brew fizzes into his stomach.

‘Go on. I told you to, didn’t I?’ Paloma jerks her head at the food on the table. ‘You’re doing that weird thing you do when you’re so hungry you can’t concentrate.’

‘What thing?’ But Jonny is already reaching for the bread again.

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