Kiss and Die

Chapter 82

Mann stood in the stark light of the carriage holding on to the handrail. He felt as if every person in the carriage was staring at him. He felt that he was falling off the end of the world.

He walked into the Cantina. Miriam was talking to someone: a European, a businessman, by the look of him, he wasn’t a local. He was Miriam’s type; tall, fifty-ish, a hint of Cary Grant about him. Mann listened to her laughter, it filled the bar. He smelt her perfume. He watched the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her dress as it rounded her hip.

She came over. Mann looked over to see her friend putting on his jacket.

‘Hello, Miriam. Thought we might pick up where we left off the other night.’

He saw the look in her eyes as she stared deep into his, then he realized the rules had changed.

‘Not tonight, Johnny. I have a date.’ The European was waiting for her.

‘Okay. No problem but, if you change your mind,’ he smiled, ‘there’s always a place for you on my pillow.’

She kissed his cheek. She turned back to smile at him at the door. He knew she was waiting for him to say something else. She wanted more from him. He understood, the way he always did, that their relationship had run its course. She was pushing him, even though she knew in her heart that pushing him just pushed him away. She knew but she couldn’t help it.

He turned back to the bar and finished his drink then he took a taxi across town. He turned his phone off. Mia was trying to reach him. He didn’t want to be found. He had a lot to think about.

He walked into the Blue Velvet lounge, just before midnight. It was a place he hadn’t visited in a long time. It had once been a trendy nightclub on the edge of town, now a hostess bar with pole dancers and dwarves serving drinks, dark corners, and private booths. Enigma was playing: haunting erotic music.

He sat watching the stripper. She wore a long blond wig and a shiny red bikini. She squatted in front of him and her thighs opened as she held on to the pole and leant back, crotch in his direction. He smelt the aroma of cheap perfume and stale sex and as he held his drink on his chest he felt the ice-cold glass penetrate into his heart. He looked across at the other punters in this lowlife club, a Triad hangout. It was a place that the bosses like CK kept a tab open for their officers’ entertainment. Ice was laid out in white lines on one of the tables at the side of the room. A noisy group of 49s were out of control at the far end of the bar and grabbing at the dancers, drinking each other unconscious with shots.

Mann was aware that someone had come to stand next to him-too close to be anything but a friend or an enemy. He turned. It was Lilly.

‘You buying drinks, Mr Rich Policeman?’ The pole dancer left for pastures new.

‘Finished your homework, Lilly?’

‘I don’t need to learn anything else, Mr Policeman. I could even teach you a few things. You look like you need a friend. You want to buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it?’