“So we can take it out of the same one too.”Sasha caressedLaurie's thigh.It was the strangest thing in the world, to be heldin the intimate tangle of those elegant naked limbs, and feeltensions rising.Fervently Sasha tried to dispel them.“I'd neverhave asked you to check with me first.You work your arse off.Ifyou'd wanted a car that badly, fine.We could've gone out andbought one together.”
That wassuch a nice picture.Contrition and regret hit Laurie hard.Thepair of them, wandering around the forecourts on a Sundayafternoon, Sasha sending him off so he could haggle with the dealerin peace...“You're right.I'll sell her, and—”
“What?Go out with me to some dodgy lot in East London and buyher again?”
“For half the price, probably.I'm so sorry, Sash.Really.”
Sashastarted laughing at the chagrin in his voice.“Don't be daft.I'mglad you've got your car.”
“Our car.”
“Our car.So, where are we going this weekend?”
Sashalistened to his plans.Rye, Glastonbury, Brighton, which band wasplaying where and who on Sir Ralf’s cast had a brother who couldget them tickets...But he was weary, and somewhere in his achingskull he could still hear the rain in the pines.Laurie's voice,low and caressing, soothed out its own details and left Sasha towonder what kind of day had led his lover to fire his manager andbuy a car.Laurie could be impulsive, but...
“You're not listening to a word, are you?”
“Got me bang to rights.No.”
“I was telling you all about horsepower.I don't understand howyou weren't fascinated.”
“To fascinate a Rom, you'd have to tell him where the chassisnumber was.”
Lauriechuckled.“You spend every working day correcting that kind ofprejudice.”
“Which is why I can indulge in it at home.”
“You're pale.Does your head hurt?”
“A bit.But it's...noisy more than anything, full of stuff Idon't want to think about.And I'd give anything for a full night'ssleep.”He leaned on Laurie's shoulder.“You know what I'd reallylike right now?Some proper gypsy-campdarozha.”
Lauriecould have beaten his head off the wall in frustration.He'd justspent twenty grand, and the one thing his lover really needed was ahandful of herbs that had probably cost a fiver.“What,” he saidsoftly, stroking Sasha's brow, “the stuff that tastes like ancientgoat piss and does nothing for you except when you really needit?”
“Yeah, and knocks you into a solid-gold coma when you do.Stilltastes like goat piss, though.I'll settle for anaspirin.”
Lauriewent and got one for him.He couldn't get the darozha, not with allhis wealth or Marielle's, and so he ran to carry out this one smallservice.So damn inadequate, but then so was he, banging on aboutcars and concerts while Sasha's demons rampaged around in his head.“Here,” he whispered, padding back to the window.“We'll stay homethis weekend.You can just rest.”
ButSasha had fallen asleep, as he sometimes did between one heartbeatand the next after a sequence of nightmares.He was awkwardlyfolded on the window seat, and his eyelids were already flickeringwith restive dreams.Laurie decided not to try to get him back tobed.He tugged the duvet over, wrapped him in it as best he couldand eased a cushion between his damp brow and the glass.
Couldn't he get the darozha, though?Laurie didn't like tothink too often about Mama Luna and the Romani camp.His firstnight there had been the wildest and best of his life.He'dstruggled back there with cracked ribs and a head injury thatshould have put him into hospital, and the old lady had commandedher great big skinhead of a son to mix up the darozhafor him, and he'd been healed.And the thirdtime...
Thethird time had been apocalypse and ruin.Laurie shied away from thememory, reverting instead to Gunari's beaming face as he'd appearedin the caravan doorway, the steaming bowl in his hands.Gunari hadbeen a tough customer—with everyone but Mama Luna.He'd havesurvived, Laurie was sure.
It was a long shot, but once Sasha was breathing easily,Laurie went to switch on his laptop.Cold blue light filled theroom.He spared himself a glance in the mirror that hung over thedesk.He and Sasha hadn't known what to do about pictures, but theprevious occupant had left this large art-deco glass in such aposition that it caught and reflected movement on the bed.Oncepast their embarrassment, Laurie and Sasha had discovered itsstartling erotic effects.Now it only showed Laurie's face, turnedghostly in the screen light, and the rumpled mattress where Sashacould no longer find peace.After a moment's thought, expectingnothing, Laurie typedGunari,Romanianinto the search engine.
He put a hand to his mouth to stifle laughter.Sometimes theeasiest things turned out to be so damn hard, and sometimes thornyknots could just unravel in your hands.He had been prepared toscour all London, and the first hit had given him hisanswer.Kenna Gunari—Gunari's House, a restaurant in Clapham Common Southside,specialising in authentic Romanian food.Gunari had a website.Laurie noted down the postcode.Then he folded down the screen sothat only leafblown lamplight held sway in the room, and he went toresume his watch over his lover's sleep.
Chapter Eight
Lauriedrove Sasha to the Guidance Council offices next morning.Theten-minute journey took half an hour in crawling traffic, and thecongestion-charge cameras glimmered hungrily at the sight of thisnew, unregistered licence plate, but the trip had only been anexperiment.Outside the offices, they laughingly declared it afailure, kissed passionately over the handbrake, and Sasha ran offto try the entirely new sensation of being late forwork.
Lauriewatched until the security desk had passed him safely through.Henow knew he'd done a bloody stupid thing in buying this car.Hecouldn't quite remember the leaps and throbs that had taken placein his brain yesterday to make him think it was okay.He'd beenforgiven, but maybe part of that had been due to Sasha'sexhaustion.Well, all they had to do was get through theirrespective Fridays.Then Laurie would use the Merc like the mostexpensive hire job in the world, run them about for a carefreeweekend, and put it up for sale on Monday.
He mightas well enjoy it until then.The salesman had thrown in a satnav tosweeten the deal.The gadget looked ashamed of itself,sucker-footed onto the sleek 1970s glass, but the route to Gunari'spostcode showed Laurie a nice straight run down Brixton Hill.Rehearsals didn't start till two.Probably there were fiftyenterprising restaurateurs named Gunari in London right now.Still,there was no harm in taking a look.
Heleaned to start her up, and noticed his mobile—also looking alienagainst the vintage dash—flashing an email message.He read itidly, one eye on the traffic warden threading the parked cars aheadof him.
He thought it was spam at first, or a joke.Not like SirRalf's communications, where you could turn over a sheet of creamyA4 in your hand to test their authenticity.Ivory Gate Studios,their UK division.Douglas Brett, producer of theBlood Moontrilogy, hadseen Laurie in performance at the Queen's, and been impressed byhis ability to convey the latent terror in theAll's Wellproduction.Casting forthe next sequence ofBlood Moonmovies would begin on Wednesday at IG UK, Ealing.Brett couldn't make any guarantees, of course, but needless to saythe success of the franchise was such that Laurie would certainlyfind any association with it worth his while.
