Zip Gun Boogie by Mark Timlin Read Free Book Online

three armchairs. Joss sticks were burning in holders and the room was rich with the smell. The room had been personalised further with a big CD player, amp and speakers. It was playing muted rock. I recognised a track from Exile on Main Street. The room had three other doors. Don went over and tapped on one. I heard a woman’s voice reply, and he opened the door, entered and closed it behind him. A moment later he re-appeared. ‘Come through, Mr Sharman,’ he said, and the tone of his voice was a little warmer, but not much.
    I walked across the rugs and through the door. Inside was part office, part dressing room, with clothes on rails and hanging from anywhere that would hold them. There was a desk in the centre of the room holding a bunch of papers, two telephones and a fax machine. Two office chairs were drawn up to the desk. Ninotchka was sitting on one speaking on the phone. ‘My date’s here, must go, Mom. Call you tomorrow. Love you – ’bye,’ she said and hung up. She spun round on the chair and looked at me. ‘Hi, Nick. How are you?’
    â€˜Just fine.’
    She looked me over. ‘Did you get that jacket downstairs?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Roger’s got one exactly the same. The trouble with shopping in hotels is that sooner or later everyone gets to dress exactly the same.’
    â€˜I thought it looked pretty good.’
    â€˜Hey, it looks fine, it’s just…’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜You look like a second-string record producer or the manager of a Mid-West heavy metal band that’s just broken the top forty.’
    â€˜Is that bad?’
    â€˜Not at all, but you could look like the president of Columbia Records if you tried.’
    â€˜Is that good?’
    She ignored the question and jumped up. ‘What do you think of this?’ she demanded, and did a twirl in front of me. She was wearing a simple cotton jersey dress, hooped in blue and white, with a short skirt. It clung so close that I guessed she was wearing very little else. She looked great.
    â€˜Great,’ I said.
    â€˜That’s what I want to say when I see you. “Great”, nothing else.’
    â€˜Do you want me to go and change?’ I asked, perhaps a little tetchily.
    She came over, reached up and kissed me full on the lips. ‘Don’t get mad,’ she said. ‘You look good. I can just see more potential, you know what I mean? I didn’t say it to hurt you. Do you forgive me?’
    What could I say? Her perfume was light and spacey and I liked it a lot. ‘Sure.’
    â€˜I tell you what, I found a great shop the other day opposite Harrods. I’ve been dying to find a man to try it out. We’ll go shopping tomorrow afternoon. How does that suit you?’
    â€˜I don’t think…’
    â€˜Don’t argue. I love buying presents. You’ll upset me if you don’t let me get you something.’
    â€˜I’m supposed to be working.’
    â€˜You will be working, looking after me.’
    â€˜Well…’ I said.
    â€˜Say you will.’
    What the hell? ‘OK.’
    â€˜Great. Where shall we eat tonight?’
    I shrugged.
    â€˜What’s your favourite food?’
    â€˜Thai, Chinese, Indonesian.’
    â€˜Do you like Korean?’
    â€˜I don’t know, I never tried it.’
    â€˜You’ll love it. I’ll get my jacket.’ She went out of the room and I followed. She crossed to one of the other inside doors and went through. I waited in the sitting room with Don. He didn’t speak. Nor did I.
    She was back within a few seconds carrying a white jacket and a blue handbag that matched her dress. ‘Night off, Don,’ she said.
    He looked from her to me. ‘No, miss, I’m supposed to stay with you.’
    â€˜I have someone. He’ll see me home, won’t you, Nick?’
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜I dunno, miss.’
    â€˜Mr Sharman is very