already she was turning away.
'No! No, that's OK. It's all yours,' I said quickly. I even managed to squeeze out a smile.
The Cross gave me another hard look before deciding I wasn't an axe murderer. 'Thanks,' she smiled as she sat down. 'I'm Cara.'
Jeez! What made her think that the invitation to sit down meant I wanted to talk to her? But the coppers were still in the bar and I couldn't afford to take any chances.
'Steve,' I replied without even blinking.
'Hi, Steve,' Cara the Cross continued. 'This place is jammed tonight. It's not usually this busy during the week.'
'I don't really come here that often,' I said.
'I thought I hadn't seen you in here before.'
Shut the bloody hell up! I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to sit next to you. I don't want anything to do with you. But I smiled and was careful to keep my true feelings off my face. I'm good at that. Years of practice around Crosses. I've lost count of the number of times a dagger has told me what he thought of me and 'my kind', usually followed by 'But I don't mean you! You're all right!' And what did I do when daggers spouted their nonsense? I smiled and said nothing. Or at least I used to, when I was younger. No-one's tried to talk to me like that for a while. Now I choose not to hide my feelings unless absolutely necessary – and maybe it shows.
'Those two are enjoying themselves, aren't they?' Cara nodded at the two in front of us, who were still kissing like there was only a minute left before the world ended.
'D'you think if I shouted fire, they'd stop?' I asked wryly.
'I doubt if they'd even hear you. So d'you live around here then?' asked Cara the Curious Cross.
'No. I'm just visiting my sister. She lives a couple of streets away from here.'
'What's her name?'
'Why?'
'Maybe I know her, if she comes in here a lot,' said Cara.
'Lynette,' I replied without hesitation. 'My sister's name is Lynette.'
Cara frowned. 'Doesn't ring a bell.'
I shrugged. Cara smiled. I glanced around the room. The cops each had a couple of sheets of paper in their hands and they were looking around.
'So, Cara,' I smiled, moving closer to her. 'D'you work around here then?'
'Yeah, in Delany's Salon, the hairdresser around the corner,' said Cara.
'Who's Delany?' I asked.
'That's the name of the shop,' Cara explained. 'Delany was the woman who used to own the shop but she packed up and moved on ages ago. It's had two or three different owners since then.'
'Who owns it now then?'
'I do,' Cara smiled. 'In fact . . . I own a chain of Delany's Salons nationwide.'
'How many?' I asked lightly.
Cara sipped at her drink and looked at me almost apologetically. 'Seven at last count. Not many yet, but I'm planning to expand in the future.'
Who did she think she was fooling with the false modesty act? Not me, that was for damned sure. But she owned shops. Going concerns. Money-making propositions. That could be useful.
'That's unusual.' I pointed at the necklace she was wearing. The cops were getting closer and closer.
'It was my mum's,' said Cara.
It was a silver or platinum fine-link chain with two overlapping circles inside an oval.
'Does it mean anything?' I asked.
'Love and peace,' Cara told me. 'They flow into each other and renew each other. Anyway, that's the idea.'
'Sounds deep!' I said sceptically.
Cara smiled. 'It isn't. It just means love and peace – that's all.'
'I'll drink to that,' I said raising my bottle of lager.
The cops were only a table or two away now. They were flashing photos at everyone they passed. Could they be the photos of Morgan and me that the cops in the car park had shown?
'You're very beautiful,' I whispered to Cara.
And I kissed her, feeling sick to my stomach. The cops walked past me. It took every gram of strength I had to stop myself from pulling away until the cops had well and truly gone. Across the bar someone shouted out, 'Oi, you lot! What's with that table? Get a room! Get two!'
I pulled away slowly. Girls
'No! No, that's OK. It's all yours,' I said quickly. I even managed to squeeze out a smile.
The Cross gave me another hard look before deciding I wasn't an axe murderer. 'Thanks,' she smiled as she sat down. 'I'm Cara.'
Jeez! What made her think that the invitation to sit down meant I wanted to talk to her? But the coppers were still in the bar and I couldn't afford to take any chances.
'Steve,' I replied without even blinking.
'Hi, Steve,' Cara the Cross continued. 'This place is jammed tonight. It's not usually this busy during the week.'
'I don't really come here that often,' I said.
'I thought I hadn't seen you in here before.'
Shut the bloody hell up! I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to sit next to you. I don't want anything to do with you. But I smiled and was careful to keep my true feelings off my face. I'm good at that. Years of practice around Crosses. I've lost count of the number of times a dagger has told me what he thought of me and 'my kind', usually followed by 'But I don't mean you! You're all right!' And what did I do when daggers spouted their nonsense? I smiled and said nothing. Or at least I used to, when I was younger. No-one's tried to talk to me like that for a while. Now I choose not to hide my feelings unless absolutely necessary – and maybe it shows.
'Those two are enjoying themselves, aren't they?' Cara nodded at the two in front of us, who were still kissing like there was only a minute left before the world ended.
'D'you think if I shouted fire, they'd stop?' I asked wryly.
'I doubt if they'd even hear you. So d'you live around here then?' asked Cara the Curious Cross.
'No. I'm just visiting my sister. She lives a couple of streets away from here.'
'What's her name?'
'Why?'
'Maybe I know her, if she comes in here a lot,' said Cara.
'Lynette,' I replied without hesitation. 'My sister's name is Lynette.'
Cara frowned. 'Doesn't ring a bell.'
I shrugged. Cara smiled. I glanced around the room. The cops each had a couple of sheets of paper in their hands and they were looking around.
'So, Cara,' I smiled, moving closer to her. 'D'you work around here then?'
'Yeah, in Delany's Salon, the hairdresser around the corner,' said Cara.
'Who's Delany?' I asked.
'That's the name of the shop,' Cara explained. 'Delany was the woman who used to own the shop but she packed up and moved on ages ago. It's had two or three different owners since then.'
'Who owns it now then?'
'I do,' Cara smiled. 'In fact . . . I own a chain of Delany's Salons nationwide.'
'How many?' I asked lightly.
Cara sipped at her drink and looked at me almost apologetically. 'Seven at last count. Not many yet, but I'm planning to expand in the future.'
Who did she think she was fooling with the false modesty act? Not me, that was for damned sure. But she owned shops. Going concerns. Money-making propositions. That could be useful.
'That's unusual.' I pointed at the necklace she was wearing. The cops were getting closer and closer.
'It was my mum's,' said Cara.
It was a silver or platinum fine-link chain with two overlapping circles inside an oval.
'Does it mean anything?' I asked.
'Love and peace,' Cara told me. 'They flow into each other and renew each other. Anyway, that's the idea.'
'Sounds deep!' I said sceptically.
Cara smiled. 'It isn't. It just means love and peace – that's all.'
'I'll drink to that,' I said raising my bottle of lager.
The cops were only a table or two away now. They were flashing photos at everyone they passed. Could they be the photos of Morgan and me that the cops in the car park had shown?
'You're very beautiful,' I whispered to Cara.
And I kissed her, feeling sick to my stomach. The cops walked past me. It took every gram of strength I had to stop myself from pulling away until the cops had well and truly gone. Across the bar someone shouted out, 'Oi, you lot! What's with that table? Get a room! Get two!'
I pulled away slowly. Girls
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