Death Sentence Read Online Free PDF Page B

upper arm, a ritual we had pledged to undergo with the publication of our first book. I had to take off my shirt again and again to show I had kept my promise, and most guests were duly impressed with the armband tattoo.
    It happened in this sea of people, as it sometimes does when crowds gather, that suddenly a corridor opened up and I could see from the far side of the living room all the way to the front door.
    Line was standing in the doorway.
    She was wearing a short dress and high-heeled shoes, an outfit somewhat out of sync with the rest of the guests, who were dressed more casually, but she appeared oblivious to it. Her mousy brown hair reached just below her jawline and her face was rather ordinary with strong eyebrows, high cheekbones and a narrow nose. She looked nothing like a model and seemed out of place both as far as her dress and the party were concerned.
    What knocked me out was her smile.
    I know it’s a cliché and I would never have the audacity to write it in a novel, not even a romantic one, but that was what happened. She had a small wry smile that revealed a little of a row of perfect teeth and she exuded warmth and spontaneity. It took my breath away. Her gaze swept around the room and our eyes met for a brief moment before the crowd closed the gap between us.
    During the time the commune had been in existence, we had all had our fair share of girls. We often scored at our own parties; it was a bad night if none of us got lucky. I wouldn’t go as far as to say there was competition between us , but it was a source of huge satisfaction to turn up for breakfast the following morning and introduce a girl with rumpled hair wearing only a man’s shirt.
    When I saw Line that evening, I made a vow. She wouldn’t be another party trophy. This time my aim wasn’t a few days or a couple of weeks of casual sex. This was the real thing and it meant I had to be careful. I mustn’t sabotage my mission with crass remarks uttered under the influence of alcohol and drugs. On the contrary, I would try to avoid her. I might exchange a few words with her, so she would at least remember me, but my main aim would be to try to find out who she was and how I could see her again. I would woo her with a persistence and a chastity worthy of a Shakespeare play, but not until I was sober.
    After about an hour I began to worry that she might have left. Perhaps she had even come to the wrong address – her clothes suggested it – and now she might be at her real destination, a couples’ dinner party at my neighbour’s with a five-course menu and matching wines. It was almost unbearable. I kept moving to keep my nerves under control, constantly checking if she was still around. It became increasingly difficult to maintain my cool exterior as host and harder still to focus on the conversations I got caught up in. If she had gone, all was lost.
    I was more or less resigned to drinking myself senseless when I heard a woman’s voice behind me.
    ‘You’re not easy to find!’ The music was loud so she had to shout.
    I turned around and came face to face with her smile. She laughed when she saw my reaction.
    ‘It’s OK, I have been invited.’
    ‘No, it’s just … I thought you had left,’ I stuttered and regretted it immediately.
    ‘Congratulations on the book,’ she said, holding out her hand. She had a drink in her other hand.
    I took her hand. It was warm and dry and she gave my hand a quick squeeze.
    ‘Thank you!’ I shouted over the music. ‘Who are you?’ I asked before I could stop myself.
    ‘My name is Line and I’m a dancer!’ she shouted back, but thanks to the music I didn’t catch all of it.
    ‘A chancer?’
    She started to laugh and it was impossible not to laugh with her. Then she placed a hand on my shoulder, pulled me closer and leaned into me at the same time.
    ‘My name is Line and I’m a dancer,’ she repeated, with her mouth very close to my ear.
    I was aware of my face burning and I