“I won’t apologise –”
“Then that pump stays locked in the back of my van.”
Scott touched Thomas’s trainer. “Please, Thomas.”
“But –”
“Please.”
Thomas slumped. “Fine. I’m sorry for speaking rudely to you, Janice, despite you deserving it.”
Janice narrowed her eyes. “I suppose that apology will have to do.” She hurried down the steps. “Follow me, Scott, unless you’re still out of air.”
She cackled again.
Scott pushed to his feet, swaying slightly. Thomas steadied him, then caught Scott’s eye as he asked. “You alright?”
“I’m good.” Scott smiled. “One hundred and one more to go.”
“Actually,” Janice called out. “Only one hundred. I blew up that last balloon you were having trouble with, damn near almost killed me, but I did buy the ones with the thickest rubber.”
“Of course you did…”
Janice winked. “I drew a smiley face on the one I did for you so you’d be able to find it.”
“I can’t wait to sit on your face,” Scott mumbled, trudging down to join her.
“It’s B-day,” Scott said, looking across a sea of balloons.
Thomas had given him a night to rest and recover the function of his lungs. For once, Scott hadn’t dreamed about Warren but balloons, and he had a score to settle.
Thomas stood beside him. “I’m pretty sure a B-day is a little sink for your arse.”
“Do you have one?”
“No.” Thomas frowned. “Why would I?”
“You own a mansion. It’s the kind of thing mansion dwellers own.”
“Dwellers? I’m not a goddamn troll.”
Scott stepped forward, and the draft he created made the balloons shudder in fear.
“Too right.”
Thomas sighed. “Stop threatening the balloons.”
Scott wasn’t 100 per cent recovered from the day before and still eyed them like the enemy. “Where do you want me?”
“If you make some space in the middle, you know, where you were yesterday when you lost your mind.”
Scott spotted the balloon with the big smiley face.
He evil-eyed it. “I’m coming for you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want an extra day?” Thomas asked. “We can make sure all your brain cells have had some oxygen.”
“Ha. Funny.”
