“How do you know they won’t simply split the winnings?”
“Because I’ve read their psychological profiles.”
Dorinda reached a hand up in the air. “If you are prepared to offer satisfaction, turn around when I drop my handkerchief. If not, then remain as you are—but understand the consequences of your actions.”
“Close-ups on Lola and Ridhi,” Indira whispered into her headset.
Dorinda dropped her handkerchief.
Neither man turned.
“Let there be blood,” Indira murmured. I can’t be sure, but I thought I heard Petey say “Piss and blood.” The two of them bumped fists.
“Gentlemen, take your positions.”
Jonty and Armando each took a stride forward, then another, until they were twenty paces apart. A sharp growl came from beside me. Indira was crouching, hands on her knees, eyes forward and squinting, face almost as purple as Dorinda’s dress. She was bouncing on her heels and breathing heavily, like you see women on the TV doing in prenatal classes.
“I don’t think she’s OK, you know,” Mum said. “Do you think?—”
“Gentlemen, cock your pistols,” Dorinda began. I couldn’t have been more on the edge of my seat if the hem had been sewn into my arsehole. “Rules are, first blood wins. If you both draw blood, we go again. You will fire on the count of three.”
Indira let out a squeak that started audibly enough but quickly escalated into “dogs only” territory.
“One.”
I glanced across at Petey, who was staring fixedly at the action playing out on the lawn.
“Two.”
I looked across at Indira, who thumped her chest with her fist, her face purpled and constipated.
“Three.”
Bang! Jonty and Armando fired their shots. Figuratively, everyone let the smoke clear. The armourer assessed both men, then delivered the results to Dorinda.
“Gentlemen, neither of you have been hit.”
“Fuckyes,” Indira said beside me. She had a fist to her mouth. She was bouncing up and down on the spot. Petey was looking at me, but when my eyes caught his, he looked away.
“You will fire on the count of three,” Dorinda said. “One. Two. Three.”
Bang! Bang!
Silence.
The armourer did his thing and reported to Dorinda.
“Gentlemen, neither of you have been hit. This is your third and final shot.”
Indira was bouncing up and down on the spot like this was a Zumba class, her face so purple now it was almost black.
“Is she still breathing?” Mum muttered in my ear. “I’m worried about her.”
“If one of you draws blood, you will win the full prize pool of one hundred and twenty-three thousand pounds,” Dorinda said. “If neither of you draws blood, then you both go home empty-handed. If you both draw blood, then you split the prize pool. Are we understood.”
Both men nodded.
“Gentlemen, cock your pistols. One. Two. Three.”
