“Well, for Christ’s sake. I’m on a tightrope every waking hour. I’m given orders I don’t understand, not knowing if I’m going to get myself topped or not, beaten up —”
“The number he gave checked out,” Jennie said.
“Right, Gina. Do it. Your can, okay?” Nicko rose and walked from the room. Jennie had to scurry to catch up before the door closed.
Gina was smiling-not-smiling. “Allies, Lovejoy. Welcome to the team.”
“Do I get the chance of a bath? Paid?”
“Money, yes. But not the reward you’re holding out for.” She smiled genuinely now, sipped her drink, feline. “Plus one very very special benefit.”
“What?”
“You’re in the California Game, Lovejoy.”
“Thanks, love.” Like hell I am, I thought. I’m off out.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
« ^ »
SHOPPING is hell. God knows what women get out of it, but for me it’s Doom City. Today, it was even worse, because I’d been sent out with Orly, who clearly hated me.
“For a start,” I grumbled as we trekked from shop to shop, “everything’s new. Different with antiques.”
“Lovejoy.” He stopped, right there in the middle of Fifth Avenue, arms full of parcels, and tried to stare me down. It didn’t work, because I was in the California Game too, whatever it was. “I don’t trust you. You’re a loose cannon. You’ll roll about the deck and sink our ship. I know it. Okay. But don’t try charming me. You’re today’s Fifth Column.”
“Don’t hold back, Orly. Spit it out.”
He didn’t smile.
“There’ll be a comeuppance, Lovejoy. You’ll die the death. After you’re buried I’ll laugh all I want.”
“Orly,” I said, riling him who was determined to be riled. “Did you think that silk tie was worth the money? Only —”
He dumped the parcels in our limo—it was following us—and marched imperiously into the next store.
“Orly,” I tried every so often. “How comes it that you and Gina, well, y’know? While Nicko and Jennie are… ?”
“Stupid,” was all he said back.
I noticed Zole ogling us from across the street. He saw me in a brand new off-the-peg suit, trendy shoes, striped shirt. His yo-yo almost froze in mid-air. He didn’t come across, though I waved. I wondered what they’d say in Fredo’s.
I got into the car after him and tapped our driver on the shoulder. “Manfredi’s Eatery, mate.”
“Orly?” the driver asked.
“Bugger Orly,” I said. “I told you Manfredi’s.”
We drove to Manfredi’s. I endured a few minutes of leg-pulling from Della and Lil, was congratulated by Josephus in a melodiously outdated rap, envied by Jonie, and caused Fredo moans of outright grief by resigning. No sign of Rose. I made them drop me off at the corner by Hawkins’s, and got a satisfactory ping! from the little bell over the bookshop door. Seeing Orly’s thunderous face as the limo rolled away was pleasant.
Rose was at the desk, invoicing.
“Lovejoy!” she cried, flushing red as fire, “I thought you’d left us in the lurch!”
I bussed her cheek, looked round smiling. “Won a few quid on a, er, betting game.”
“You look splendid! Moira’ll be thrilled!”
“How’s Moira?”
Her expression clouded. “Busy. She’s at a meeting.”
As ever, I added for her. With Denzie Brandau. I did a stroll. No customers behind the stacks.
“Listen, Rose. This money I’ve got. It could take you and me to Southsea. We could bring over the Sherlock!”
“Uh-huh.” Another New York enigmatic, meaning anything you cared to read in. “Well, that’s great, Lovejoy!”
Meaning I was to serve, not lead. Okay, but it wouldn’t do.
“I’ll book our flights, okay?” I coursed over her indecision. “Tell Moira we’ll be there and back within a week.”
“Wait, Lovejoy,” she tried desperately, but I’d already bussed her and was out of the door heading off down the street, calling that I’d be back about four.
