Sidekick Returns Read Online Free PDF

was his name? Miguel? Marcus? I had been a terrible person. I should send out I’m sorry cards to everyone from my past, like a making amends step for recovering socialites. Focus, Bremy. But I’d had an awesome moment just now—and some vodka, which had done a great deal to relieve the night’s earlier humiliation—I needed to strut. Sure, I could focus on the fact that I was now running errands for a mafia boss, but that seemed really stressful.
    â€˜Yeah, now everybody’s disappointed ,’ I said, giving the night air a vicious punch. Okay, maybe the words hadn’t made complete sense, but that didn’t matter. It had been cool.
    â€˜You alright?’ a man huddled over a subway grate asked.
    I startled. I had momentarily forgotten that talking to oneself while walking down the street wasn’t exactly normal, but not entirely abnormal either in this city. ‘Just reliving a moment of greatness.
    He nodded. ‘Go team.’
    â€˜Exactly,’ I said, resuming my swagger. Minutes later, I was standing in front of a rundown theatre. I could hear shouting from the inside. I took a deep breath before wrapping my hand around the door handle.
    At the very least, this should be interesting.
    Another primal roar thundered from the inside. Maybe I should have asked Mr Pushkin for a hundred.

Chapter 4
    I flung open the door with a here goes nothing attitude and stumbled into the building. Stupid doorjamb.
    I straightened and saw a woman dressed as a cigarette girl wearing a tiny hat sitting in an old-fashioned ticket booth.
    â€˜You here for the fight?’ she asked, snapping her gum. ‘Participant or spectator?’
    â€˜Neither,’ I said, walking towards her. ‘I’m looking for Lana Sharapova. I believe she’s expecting me.’ I raised my eyebrow knowingly.
    â€˜Are you drunk?’
    I smiled. ‘Who’s asking?’
    â€˜Me,’ she said, curling a lip. ‘They make me clean up the vomit.’
    â€˜I see. Well, fear not. I am tipsy at best.’
    She gave me a sceptical once-over with some heavily make-upped eyes.
    â€˜What do you want with Luscious Lana?’
    I leaned on the counter of her ticket booth. ‘I believe that is for me and the Lana … I mean, the Lana … I mean, the lady to discuss.’
    She shook her head and sighed. ‘She’s getting ready for her match. Go down that hall, turn the corner, and it’s the first door on your left. You’d better hurry. She’s up next.’
    I nodded my thanks and headed down the hall.
    Suddenly I felt very aware of myself. Perhaps the vodka had hit me harder than I thought. I tried to focus on walking normally, but that only made things worse. I needed to get this job done and have a coffee before my date with Pierce. I turned the corner of the hall, banging my shoulder against the wall. Up ahead an entourage of people in shiny black tracksuits was shuffling through the first door on the left, headed in the opposite direction. In the middle of the scrum was a blonde woman in a pink satin robe, two L’s embroidered on the back.
    â€˜Lana!’ I called out. ‘Lana Sharapova!’
    The group didn’t stop.
    I scurried after them. ‘Lana! Mr Pushkin sent me!’
    The group stopped in one solid mass. Then Lana twisted her head and grimaced, revealing a large gap between her two front teeth. Her gaze met mine, and then she spat on the floor.
    I scuttled forward. A few of the men surrounding her backed away to let me into their group, then moved back around to swallow me in the swarm.
    â€˜Um, hi,’ I said with a little wave. ‘I’m … actually, never mind who I am. I believe Mr Pushkin told you I was coming? He said you have something for me?’
    She looked at me. Her eyes felt heavy on my face. Finally, she said, ‘Walk.’
    â€˜Well, you see I’m kind of in a hurry. I have this important date. Well,