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“How? What happened?” I asked.
He recounted how Manon had threatened to glass some dickhead, and my jaw dropped. I was speechless. Her screaming at that pissed idiot outside the pub came to mind. Manon was a hothead all right.
Dangerous, but kind of admirable too. I was a sucker for someone who stood up for their mates.
“Anyway, I’m sorry to put you in the middle of this Bram bullshit case.”
“They’re still investigating it?”
“His father’s appealing the verdict. He can’t believe that his son intentionally shot himself up with heroin.” He gave an ironic sniff. “He obviously turned a blind eye to his son’s fucking track marks.”
“He sounds deluded.” I exhaled. “Anyway, don’t worry about me. It felt like the right thing to do.”
I recalled the day the cops turned up at Reboot, and when I’d heard them questioning Carson on his whereabouts that night, I’d jumped straight in. I knew Bram was a woman-bashing junkie causing hell for Savanah. Therefore, it had been easy for me to say that Carson had watched a game with me that night.
“Feel like a walk?” he asked.
“Sure. I was about to go for a run to the cliffs. But a walk through the woods is always nice.”
We’d been walking for a while when he said, “Look, about Bram. Only Savvie knows this, but I feel like I owe you some explanation. I don’t want you to think I had something to do with his death.”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t blame you. The guy was a cunt.”
“Can’t argue there.” He stopped walking. “Look, I went to see him. But when I arrived, he’d already ODed. He was at some run-down warehouse. No CCTV or anything. I just left.”
“Then you’re innocent,” I said.
Lost in his thoughts, he nodded distractedly. “As a soldier, I was never faced with that gut-wrenching do-or-die situation where I had to kill a stranger or two or many. Lots of soldiers have been, many of whom are so haunted by the experience that they come back changed men. But Bram, and the danger he posed to my wife, sparked my dark side. Had he not injected himself with a bad batch of junk, I would have done it for sure.”
Looking as haunted as the soldiers he’d just described, Carson turned his eyes to me, seeking some kind of response. I sensed that the issue had been eating away at him.
“I get it. If anyone tried to hurt my mother, I’d fucken kill.”
He gave me a sad smile. “Thanks, mate. I feel better for having told you. I know you won’t talk.”
“You can rely on me. And anyhow, I’d end up in jail for perjury, or is it obstruction of justice? I don’t mind the occasional episode of Law and Order.” I chuckled.
His brow smoothed, and he smiled. “Hey, race you to the cliffs?”
“You’re on.”
We charged off. I didn’t go full bore. As a sprinter at school, I had that competitive streak, but I had nothing to prove. Only friendship.
Chapter 11
Manon
Determinedtoendmytwentieth year on a high, I headed to My Cherry earlier than my usual starting time to meet with Crisp. He’d asked to see me, which was interesting. I expected him to say that Natalia, his latest plaything, had taken over. She already had from the looks of things, which suited me fine. She struck me as ambitious, and I sensed she’d planned it, through her brothers, to attach herself to Crisp.
One didn’t need to be a genius to add the dots with Crisp. He could dab all that Dior Sauvage he wanted, but the stench followed him around. Speaking of which, he was soaked in it when I walked into his office—the smell hitting me immediately. His ruddy complexion suggested he’d been doing something lascivious—my new word for the day. I’d decided to use a new big word every day until my brain absorbed them.
Despite that noble ambition, reading had become a little difficult with all that was happening, and I preferred exploring Drake’s penis rather than navigating D. H. Lawrence’s complicated vocabulary. I could have tried another book, but I wanted to impress my grandmother and her smart boyfriend, who liked to talk about books—often leaving me bewildered. He was like a walking library. There wasn’t a book he hadn’t read, and he sure loved discussing them. I didn’t mind, really. Anything that brought me closer to my grandmother.
Crisp sat back on his leather chair, balancing a scotch and a cigar in his large hand as carcinogenic vapours exited his mouth. Since I’d given up that dirty habit, I resented being a passive smoker.
“So, you wanted to see me?” I sat down in front of him.
“Yes. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
