Page 87 of Glitterati Omega

“Maybe nothing then,” he murmured.

Moose hummed again, a different tone, which meant he didn’t necessarily agree. Still, he said nothing more on the subject.

They stopped at a tiny roadside shack for sosatie and found a bench in a nearby park to eat. Rupert stabbed himself a couple of times trying to strip the meat off the skewer—he’d never been very good at it—then stared in horror as blood dripped onto the paper plate in his lap.

“Oh, shit,” Moose said, startling. He produced a packet of tissues from God-knew where. “Here.”

Rupert dabbed at his lip, then realized it must have been his gums bleeding. Lovely.

“Let me get you some more napkins,” Moose said, then trotted back across the street to the vendor. Rupert watched him, then glanced around, hoping nobody was taking notice of him.

As his gaze swept round again, he saw that same damn car, parked not far from the sosatie vendor. Rupert’s heart skipped a beat.

Moose came scuttling back a second later. “Let’s go,” he said in a hushed whisper, glancing around.

“Yes,” Rupert agreed, nodding.

“Slowly though,” Moose advised.

Rupert started for the park entrance. Moose joined him after disposing of the rubbish, escorting him back to the car.

Just as they were pulling away, Rupert thought he spied a familiar head of dark curls. He swallowed nervously.

Why the hell was Thomas in Johannesburg?