The Black Rose (Joe Dylan Crime Noir Book 4) by James Newman

Author:James Newman [Newman, James]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Spanking Pulp Press
Published: 2014-06-05T00:00:00+00:00

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE

THE GLASS of Pinot Gregio rose to Rose’s lips. She took a long drink. “There’s something about him – that interests me,” she said.

“Well, what was it, apart from the cocaine and the limp?” her best friend Jane replied looking across the pizza restaurant, Bromley, the usual crowd of tracksuits and jeans and women trying to out-dress each other. “Doesn’t seem like one of life’s winners to me.”

Rose knew that Jane was right, but there was something about Jimmy’s honesty, his shyness cloaked with bravado, that she admired. She felt a connection, and a connection was something she had never really experienced. At least not with a member of the opposite sex. There were horses, P.E teachers, there was the guy that chartered the boat on the trip to Ibiza. This was different. “How was your guy?” she asked.

“Bounty? A complete nightmare. I tell you he was useless, all fumbling, and twitching and when it came down to it he had the smallest one I’d ever seen. And you know what they say,” she lowered her voice, “about black men?”

“Yeah?”

“Well it ain’t true.”

They both laughed.

“I mean really, I tried not to laugh, but how the hell he expects to ever satisfy a woman with that is beyond me.”

“What did you do?”

“What would you do?”

They both knew the answer and the laughter rose again as the bottle was drained and they ordered another.

“You didn’t really, did you?”

“Well, it’s not as if it’s the first time.”

“I’ve never tried it…there.”

“It’s okay, I mean as long as he doesn’t go telling all his friends about it.”

“Yeah, as if he would, right?” Rose smiled.

“I’ll just say he’s lying. You know what they are like. Always making up stories about who they’ve shagged and what they made them do. As if they think, that we, don’t you know, enjoy it too.”

“It’s what their mothers tell them, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“You know the stuff that happened with your mum. I guess you never had anyone to teach you about it.”

“That’s where you are wrong, darling. My Swedish au pair taught me everything I needed to know. Believe me. She spared no details.”

“Pray tell?”

“She told me all men are basically stupid and if you make yourself hot and cold you can drive them crazy.”

“Hot and cold?”

“Turn them on and off like an oven. Keep them working for it. Use it, she said. A woman must use it.”

“So you did have a motherly chat.”

“The best.”

“No fatherly chat?”

“Don’t go there.”

“And this other one, Jimmy?”

“The thing with Jimmy is, we met as kids, you know, there’s a special bond there. Grown-ups are so fucked up. We’re fucked up. The guy over there flipping pizzas is fucked up. The taxi drivers. The mothers and the fathers. What happens to us? But when you have that innocence. Those long summer afternoons, it seems, somehow, you, know, somehow, pure. We were friends as kids. I like him.”

“Are you living in the past?”

“I think so.”

The pizza arrived and they tucked into the olive, tomato, the mushrooms and spinach.

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