‘Rebecca?But you were, like,’ he held a hand out, as if patting a weenie kid on the head, ‘and didn’t you have big red hair?’
A gigantic smile crashed through her teenage cool. ‘Youdoremember!’ And Rebecca launched herself at Logan, wrapping him up in a hug, even though she only came about halfway up his chest.
OK.
Weird.
...
Actually, given what they’d been through together, pretty sodding understandable.
Logan hugged her back.
In the happy silence, a tiny tinny voice squawked out of his phone:‘Sarge? Hello?’
He looked down at those dyed black roots, and the Darth Vader outfit. ‘Are you OK?’
She let go and stepped back, wiping her nose on the back of one hand. ‘So, it’s true – your daughter goes here, right?’ Rebecca’s pale chin came up again. ‘Want you to know: anyone messes with her, they mess with me. And I willfucktheir shit up.’
‘That’s...very kind of you.’
‘Hello, Sarge? Can you hear me?’
God’s sake.
Logan groaned. ‘I’mreallysorry – I’ve got to run.’
Rebecca nodded. ‘You got tits to arrest.’
‘But it’s been great seeing you again!’ He pointed at her, smiling as he backed towards the gate. ‘Don’t do drugs; stay in school; and so on and so forth.’
‘Sarge? Knock once for yes, twice for no...’
She waved at him.
He waved back.
Then turned and hoofed it, phone pressed against his ear. ‘Start the car – we need to move.Now.’
‘The game’s afoot!’
But not in a good way.
Logan hung up and shoved through the gate, jogged his way around the teachers’ Portakabin of Mystery, and out into the crappy car park. Pausing for a moment to check the photo Ralph sent, one last time, just to make sure.
The fourth person sitting at the table – turned in his seat to speak to someone just out of the picture: sharing a joke, going by the rosy cheeks and shining eyes – was wearing a backwards baseball cap and a wife-beater vest with ‘COLONELMICHIGAN’S GYM’ printed across the chest above a little silhouette of a boxer.
Mr Muscles.
The poor bastard who’d got himself smeared halfway across Holburn Street only three-and-a-bit hours ago.
Sodding hell indeed...
XXXVI
The world was full of flies. Fat and greasy, glittering blue-and-green. Circling in the air above her. Landing to feed on the darkening bruises and scraped flesh.
The sun still burned, high in the sky, but it was hidden behind the grey corrugated roof now – baking down, making every breath thick and stifling through the leather mask. Bloodwhump-whump-whumping in her ears.
