‘For frig’s sake,’ huffs Liberty. ‘Get your head in the game, pet. I’ve just asked you five times which floor. You can drool and moon all you want after we get this gig out of the way. And don’t forget. Hank Junior is still loose somewhere in this hotel.’
Liberty brings us all back down to earth with a bump.
Big Sue’s eyes dart to the security camera in the lift that we are currently squashed into. ‘For fuck’s sake, Libs, we may as well hand ourselves in now.’
It’s as though she has tempted fate because, just as the lift doors open on the fourth floor, Hank Junior is waiting to greet us as we step out. His eyes shoot straight to Liberty. ‘May I have a word?’ he asks politely. He is dressed casually. No Stetson, no fake moustache and no toothpick. He is actually really attractive in a quirky sort of way. It’s such a shame he’s a wrong ’un.
A forlorn expression crawls across her face. Her eyes glisten as the sunlight pours into the lift. It is over 30 degrees; the sun is high in the sky and there is a pool party in full swing on the other side of the patio.
We all stand in front of her, hands on hips. We respond collectively with a hard, ‘No.’
Hank Junior stands his ground. He holds his hands up. ‘Just one minute.’
‘We’re due on stage in five minutes,’ I say.
‘I know,’ he says, looking perplexed. ‘Why do you think I’m here?’
‘It’s okay, Big Guy. Leave it to me,’ Big Sue says, stepping forward. Her tall frame is clad in a miniscule sequined bra top and hot pants. Her white-blonde Barbie ponytail is swinging. She’s as far from terrifying as the rest of us. ‘You heard the lady. Back off.’
Hank Junior shakes his head as though he’s losing patience.
‘Why don’t we all discuss the, erm, issue, afterwards?’ I say to placate him.
‘I’d like to discuss theissuenow, thank you very much, ma’am,’ Hank Junior says with an expression of incredulity.
‘But what if we don’t want to discuss the friggin’ issue?’ barks Cherry. Her eyes are flashing angrily, her flaming-red hair is swishing and her hands are clamped to her bony hips.
Hank Junior almost jumps at the ferocity in her voice. He immediately holds up his hands again. ‘Okay. Okay.’
‘What’s going on?’ Matteo is striding up to us with a face like thunder. He squares right up to Hank Junior. ‘Leave these women alone. They’ve told you it was all a misunderstanding. Why can’t you just accept it and move on? We’re all sorry for the inconvenience, but for your own good, just drop it.’
Hank Junior is livid. His face is puce. Liberty steps between them. Hank Junior immediately drops his shoulders. Liberty looks up at him with huge, sad puppy eyes. Hank Junior seems to melt instantly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says simply.
He can’t take his eyes off her.
‘I thought we had something special. But you weren’t being honest with me,’ she says quietly, her voice breaking.
Hank Junior hangs his head. ‘Is that why you stood me up?’
Liberty nods. ‘Why didn’t you tell me who you really are?’
He shrugs. ‘Would you still have been interested in me, or just what I could do for you?’
Liberty lets out a puff of air while the rest of us hold our breath, watching the scene unfold in silence. I notice Matteo has his fists clamped to his sides, ready to pounce if anything goes wrong.
‘Hank, I never wanted to hire a hitman. I told you about Luke because… well, I just didn’t want you thinking that I was interested in him. That’s all. I didn’t mean for you to “take care” of him.’ Liberty does air quotes. ‘I just wanted to spend time with you.’
This is it. This is the bit where it could all go horribly wrong for us. If Hank refuses to back down, we are all in serious trouble. I feel Matteo slip a hand into mine. My eyes flit to his. We’re a team. He’s got our backs. It would be a lovely poignant moment if we weren’t so dreading Hank’s next move.
Hank is staring at Liberty. Myriad emotions battling it out before, surprisingly, a broad smile almost splits his face in two. ‘Oh, man,’ he says, amused. ‘Hitman? What are you talking about?’
‘You’re a hitman,’ she says, her lip wobbling. ‘Cherry overheard you talking about making hits and being very thorough, and you called yourselfthehitman of Hollywood.’
‘No, I ain’t.’ He chuckles. His eyes are sparkling. ‘Well, I am. I do make hits but not those kind of hits.’
‘So, you haven’t…’ Liberty mouths the rest. ‘…killed Luke?’
