The Foster Husband Read Online Free PDF Page B

Puppies.’
    ‘Well, I’m glad you’re not as dumb as you look,’ I said. Although he didn’t look dumb at all, he looked pretty gorgeous, if you want to know the truth. He had that
sort of blue-black hair that makes you think of Elvis, and eyes so dark I couldn’t even see what colour they were. Isn’t that always the way, though? The stupid ones are always the
prettiest.
    ‘Oh right?’ said Matt, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. He gave a short, abrupt laugh. ‘I thought you just had a bit of a brutal email manner, but
now I’m thinking it might be more of a borderline personality disorder.’
    ‘What, like efficient-and-good-at-my-job disorder? Effective diagnosis, doctor.’
    ‘I was thinking more like unhelpful-and-obstructive disorder.’
    ‘Also known as not-willing-to-waste-time-on-stupid-questions disease. Pity it’s not contagious.’
    Matt smirked. ‘Look. Enough of the insults, Basher Bailey. I need to get people into my party before it’s a complete disaster. Half the guests are there, but the staff say
you’ve told them not to open the bar until the show’s over.’
    ‘Yup,’ I said. ‘And?’
    ‘And if they don’t get a drink soon they’re all going to leave before the rest of the guests arrive. When’s this show going to end, anyway?’
    ‘I haven’t worked it out exactly,’ I said, ‘because I keep being
interrupted
, but I reckon we’ve got at least an hour till we’re done. More if we get
any encores.’
    ‘An hour? But the party was meant to start an hour and a half ago.’
    I shrugged. ‘Yup, the show was meant to start three hours ago. I was meant to be drinking my way through your free bar by now. Lots of things were meant to happen. But this is where we
are; nothing I can do about it.’
    ‘But Airtel are going to be furious, they’ve spent a fortune on this party.’
    ‘I’m really sorry, Matt. Sounds like a nightmare. But I’m not sure what I can do – the audience is going to go crazy if I pull any of the acts. The show must go on,
right?’
    ‘You don’t have to pull any of the acts,’ said Matt, leaning forwards intently. ‘All you need to do’ – I bristled instantly at his presumption –
‘is open the bar and allow the sponsors out of the audience so they can come backstage early.’
    ‘But, Matt,’ I sighed, and spoke as slowly and clearly as I could to get the words through his thick head. ‘The sponsors and their competition winners are taking up the whole
six front rows of the audience. We’re filming this – I can’t have half the audience walking out of the room while the show’s still on. And the artists will go mental if they
have to perform to a load of empty seats.’
    ‘Can’t you just get the cameramen to film different parts of the audience?’ said Matt.
    ‘No, Matt, I can’t, actually. We’ve all had to work with these delays for weeks – now it’s your turn. Deal with it.’
    ‘But all the artists are leaving already,’ said Matt. ‘I’ve seen them getting into their cars as soon as they get off stage. There won’t be anyone left to come to
the party if it doesn’t start soon.’
    That got my attention. ‘Which artists are leaving? Not Slender Dee?’
    ‘Who?’ Matt looked bemused, as well he might, not being as familiar with the cream of African musical talent as I’d become over the last two weeks.
    ‘Shit, what are those useless idiots from Talent doing? They’re meant to be making sure Slender Dee comes to the party.’
    Matt grimaced. ‘I’ll tell you where Talent are – sitting at my party watching the ice sculptures melt and bitching about not being able to get a proper drink. They’re the
ones who told me where to find you.’
    ‘Right,’ I snapped. I threw down my pen and stood up. ‘Follow me.’
    Matt bit back a smile, but I wasn’t laughing. Before I met the governor, I wouldn’t have cared if all the acts had flown to Timbuktu as soon as