Bubblegum Smoothie by Ryan Casey Read Free Book Online

want?”
    I bit my tongue and resisted the urge to inform this numbnut that I’d been in the middle of telling him what I wanted before he interrupted. “I’m looking to identify a knife. An illegal knife. Automatic knife called a… a Marifone Killswitch. Believe they’re sold on the black market at—”
    “Killswitch. Nah. Never had one. No idea.”
    My stomach sank in an instant. I glared over at Martha. What a shitload of good this bloody meeting was. Five hundred thousand—five hundred pissing thousand pounds—all for a meeting with a nearly-mute who needed a lesson in social interaction.
    “Well, thanks for your help,” I said, eager to get away. “Very nice to—”
    “Wait. A Killswitch. It’s coming to me actually. It’s coming to me.”
    My stomach sank even further when I realised what this guy was doing. He wanted money too. The bald-headed bastard actually wanted some more of my bounty. Hopefully he didn’t come from the Martha school of haggling or before I knew it, I’d be getting a tenner to keep from a million.
    I sat back down. Pulled out my wallet. Slid a ten-pound note across the table.
    He looked at it. Scoffed. “This man for real?” he asked Martha.
    I wanted to tell him I was more for real than his bloody he-she associate, but I needed information so thought best not to piss him off for now.
    I slipped another ten across.
    And another.
    And another and another until eventually he had a hundred quid in front of him.
    “Getting there,” he said. “It’s… it’s on the tip of my tongue. Maybe another hundred and I’ll—”
    “Oh, screw this,” I said, glaring at Martha. “Good job, Martha. Very stellar job. You can say goodbye to your cut, I tell you that.”
    “Wait,” she said. She took a few deep breaths. Leaned in towards this bald wanker. “I… I’m getting £500,000 soon—”
    My cheeks flared up. “Martha, don’t—”
    “And I’ll give you a ten-thousand pound cut if you allow us free access to information over the next month. Well, not free, but you catch my drift.”
    The bald guy was silent. I couldn’t believe Martha. Now this bastard knew she was getting £500,000—five hundred thousand of my money—he’d haggle for more.
    But he slipped the notes back over the table. Tapped them as they rested in front of me.
    “Ten thousand it is,” he said. “Funny actually. I did have a Marifone Killswitch in up until about… two weeks ago, I think it was.”
    My skin tingled. “You sold it?”
    “Yes.”
    “And… and do you remember the guy?”
    He stared ahead. “Yes.”
    I swallowed a lump in my throat. I could stuff my mouth with Halls Soothers and kiss this bloke if he wasn’t a bloody asshole. And the ten K was coming from Martha’s cut, too. I’d done alright really.
    “What did he look like?”
    The bloke tapped his fingers against the table. Nodded ahead.
    “Funnily enough, he’s just over there.”
    Martha swung around. I scanned the area, my pulse thumping in my temple as I looked for a guy in the corner, someone lurking at a table.
    “Who?” I asked. “Where?”
    And then I saw exactly who the arms guy was looking at.
    “Fat baldie over there. First guy to order off me who had to read the knife name off a note. But it was him.”
    I felt my shoulders slump as I stared at the swellhead stacking coins.
    The coins tumbled over, and this dummy let out a little whimper.
    “Nice seeing you. I’ll be in touch about that ten thousand.”
    The arms bloke disappeared out of the pub, and Martha and I were left staring at the simpleton in the corner.
    “Doesn’t strike me as the serial killing sort of guy,” Martha said.
    “Me neither,” I said, as I bit my tongue through my disappointment. “Me neither.”

NINE
    As Martha and I approached the fat simpleton sat stacking pound coins on top of one another, it’s safe to say neither of us were holding our breath.
    I cleared my throat as I stood opposite this beast of a guy. It was hard to