Love Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

road bike. Big old Harley or something. Do you race?’
    â€˜Naw . . .’ Zed looked about to bust out laughing any minute. Dwayne is one of those slightly chubby brers who looks like he goes down to his local Topman and gets everything he sees in the window. He drops slang like it was a class he took in college. He has big, shiny rims on his tiny hand-me-down car. He’s one of those brers who are average height but look short the minute they open their mouth. And next to Zed, he was shrinking by the millisecond. I had to get him out of there.
    â€˜I saw you spittin’ at Cargo a couple weeks back, actually. I met you after the show,’ he said. The time inched toward five. ‘I came down with Eden. I’m Dwayne . . .?’
    â€˜Right, right, OK. Cool . . .’ Zed nodded his head in obviously faked recognition. ‘Dwayne. Thanks for the support.’
    â€˜Nah, no problem, mate. I don’t get out that much thesedays, you know what I mean? I’m studying my
masters degree
at the mo, but I used to dabble a bit here and there back in the day, ya get me? Bit of Djing! I made good money, ya know. But yeah, you should definitely keep it up, blud.’ Dwayne was nodding heavily, like he was a hip-hop expert rather than some halfwit who probably thought KRS-one was an industrial cleaning product.
    â€˜I hear you,’ replied Zed, running a hand over the deep black gloss of his new vehicle. ‘Thanks.’
    â€˜Yeah, man,’ Dwayne added for good measure. ‘Definitely keep it up, ya get me?’
    â€˜That’s the plan.’
    â€˜Heavy.’ Then Dwayne decided to try and go in for one of those one-armed man-hugs. Zed dodged it and gave him a rather sardonic handshake instead.
At least bloody TRY to act like a threat!
I wanted to shout at Dwayne but instead I just stood there, spare, embarrassed and scowling at my fingernails. Switching my phone back on.
    â€˜So Eden . . .’ said Zed eventually.
    â€˜Yeah, um, let’s go in. Look, Dwayne . . . Thanks for the lift, OK? I’ll see you at work,’ I said, and gave the Clueless One a chaste peck on the cheek. He went with crab-like reluctance back to his Fiesta.
    I didn’t look at Zed until the car was moving and when I did I caught him throwing Dwayne deuces, a backwards peace sign. Well, in
America
it means ‘peace’.
    I tried to stifle a nervous eruption of laughter, but instead some spit went down the wrong way and I choked.
    â€˜Eden! You alright?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ I said when I regained the capacity for speech, wiping my eyes and mouth. ‘I’m fine.’
    I hesitated near his new motorcycle. It was gorgeous.
    â€˜It’s OK,’ he said, a diamond stud sparkling in his ear. ‘You can touch it.’
    The bike was smooth as water. I grabbed my camera and took several pictures in quick succession. For the record. My fingers travelled its long curves, nestled in its indentations, hesitated on the seat and the handlebars. Did this mean he was going to stay? For a while at least? The implications of that scrambled me. I saw my wide-open face reflected in the slick black paint. Zed smiled at me indulgently, like I was a child or an eccentric or both, and turned to walk up the front steps. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting,’ he said.
    â€˜You have no idea.’
    â€˜Hmmm . . .?’ he glanced at me, struggling with his helmet, the gloves and his bags, trying to open the door. ‘What was that?’
    â€˜It was no big deal; I wasn’t waiting that long. You want some help?’
    He told me the keys were in his jeans, voice so close I felt the bass of it right in the seat of my knickers. I journeyed nervous fingers into his pocket, in amongst the warm coins, a biro and the slight damp and the dark.
    â€˜OK,’ I said. ‘Got them.’ And then, just to keep talking, I told him he should be careful about carrying pens in his pocket in case