The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs by Irvine Welsh Read Free Book Online Page B

fronting the morning show. Glancing at his alarm clock again, Skinner struggled to get into his clothes and into the day. As he knotted his blue tie and gazed at his appearance in the mirror, his confidence to face the week ahead slowly grew.
    I look like a fucking pantomime villain. If I grew a moustache I’d be Dick Dastardly.
    Danny Skinner knew that although he was relatively young in his department, his sharp tongue was respected and feared, even by some of his elders and superiors, who had seen it mercilessly deployed on several occasions. More than that, he was good at his job: popular, bright and well liked. And yet he was starting to sense a growing disapproval from some senior colleagues regarding his drinking and his often cavalier, irreverent attitude.
    But so many of them are corrupt bastards, like Foy.
    He jumped on a 16 bus and got off at the east end of town. In Cockburn Street he met his favourite colleague, Shannon McDowall, coming into the Chambers from the back entrance and they took the lift to the fifth floor. In the workplace she was the one person Skinner really talked to, beyond superficialities,and they often enjoyed a casual flirtatiousness with each other. He couldn’t believe how prim Shannon looked in her long brown skirt, yellow blouse and light brown cardigan. Her hair was pinned up. All that hinted at the vivacious, clubby, girl-about-town of the weekends was the shit-eating grin she wore. — Awright, Dan? Good weekend?
    — Must have been, Shan, must have been, I remember nothing about it, Skinner said. — Yourself?
    — Yeah, me and Kevin were at Joy. It was a brilliant night, Shannon leered.
    — Good for you. Any naughtiness?
    Shannon’s voice dropped to a whisper and she looked around, pulling a loose strand of hair back from across her face. — Just one pill, but I was up all night.
    Fuck just one pill, Skinner thought, and then with a sideways glance considered, fuck Shannon as well. But he’d never cheat on Kay, and anyway, Shannon had that boyfriend, Kevin, the up-himself-cunt with the weird hair. No, he’d never deceive Kay, but it would be great to screw Shannon’s brains out, just to piss that Kevin cunt off, Skinner thought, then felt a rush of shame.
    Shannon’s okay, a mate. You cannae think about friends in that way. It’s the alcohol: it leaves a taint of sleaze, of dirt in your mind. Mix it with cocaine and in large quantities and over long periods of time and you’re probably heading for the beast’s register. I’ve got tae fuckin well
–
    He remembered the time that he and Kay were at a club in the West End, and they met Shannon and Kevin. It ought to have been a cosy foursome, but he and Kevin never hit it off for some reason, neither, he could tell, did Shannon and Kay. It wasn’t so pronounced as to be an instant dislike on either side, as things were superficially friendly enough, but the mutual antipathy was apparent.
    Different lassies, Skinner thought. Kay was the youngest in her family with two much older brothers, the spoiled littlePrincess. When Shannon was a teenager and still at school, her mother had died unexpectedly, her father subsequently going to pieces. This meant that she’d effectively had to bring up her younger brother and sister. Skinner looked at her rounded face in profile, saw that focus and strength in her eyes. She caught him admiring her and shot him a disarming smile, like a sun coming out from behind a cloud.
    On the first floor a skinny guy in a blue C&A suit shuffled nervously into the lift. Something about the boy’s awkwardness made Skinner feel sorry for him and he smiled at the guy before noting that Shannon did too.
    Skinner’s guts were in turmoil from the beer and curry at the weekend and a viscous, silent eye-stinging killer of a fart slipped out off him, as poignantly weeping as a lover’s last farewell, just as the lift stopped at the next floor to let in two men wearing overalls. Everybody suffered in silence.