“What if we get caught?”
“I’ll do small quantities, divide them into stops, easy to throw away should the need arise.” She reached into her boot and withdrew the folded-up hundred rand note. “Just buy me what you can from this. I’ll sort out the rest.”
Davy reached for the money, paused then took the note. “That’s not going to buy a helluva lot.”
“It’s enough to get started without raising too many suspicions.” Rae offered him her most winsome smile. She’d be busy all right. Maybe she’d be able to afford that Vespa after all.
* * * *
By the time Emily reached her shop, the day had already grown warm, and she was glad to slip into her store, immediately switching on her antique brass fan. These little anachronisms kept in perfect working order made her happy, and she went through the routine of drawing back the drapes, putting the kettle to boil and lighting some incense.
Her hand strayed to the patchouli and she shrugged. It would do. She chose some Thomas Tallis from the CD rack. Old music, but it comforted her, the motet unwinding in a lush chorus of voices.
The day turned out to be stifling, and she spent more time seated next door with Miriam at one of her wrought-iron tables, sipping iced water when she didn’t have customers in her shop. If it weren’t for the fact that it was the height of the tourist season, she’d have packed up and gone home ages ago to draw a deep, cold bath and spend the afternoon splashing about.
Marula Mall had been an office building once upon a time, but an enterprising developer had converted the entire ground floor into a small arcade with a long, enclosed central courtyard. The bonus was that not too many street kids and vagrants came a-knocking for handouts, but the place got a bit toasty during summer.
Emily smiled, nodded and listened to Miriam regale her with stories of what her family was up to back in Zimbabwe. Although the woman was a qualified chemical engineer, she couldn’t find work here in South Africa and had instead made a go of running her small coffee shop.
By four in the afternoon, Emily could barely keep her eyes open. The air was more like thick, muggy syrup, and if she sat in one position for too long, her Indian-print cotton dress adhered to her skin.
“We could always close early.” Miriam stretched a kink out of her back.
“I’m sorely tempted to. We wouldn’t be the only ones.” Emily cast a glance down the mall where at least half the outlets already had their Closed or Back in Five signs up.
“You Capetonians don’t know what real heat is.”
“Oh, here we go again…” Emily rolled her eyes but smiled.
Something in Miriam’s expression changed as she glanced toward the mall’s entrance, which prompted Emily to look around.
Her heart gave a quick lurch when she recognized Simon approaching, and he flashed her a tight grin when he stopped at her table. “This seat taken?” He didn’t remove his sunglasses and it bugged Emily that she couldn’t make eye contact. Simon seemed almost unassailable like this. Mr. Cool had landed.
Miriam rose, gave Emily’s shoulder a quick squeeze then vanished into her shop.
“Hey.” Emily tried not to sound too overjoyed at seeing him again, but her pulse hammered double-time. She’d done her best not to think about Simon all day, and that had not been good enough. Now he was here.
“A bit warm today, eh?” He gave a low laugh. “I brought something for you.” Simon placed a rectangular brown paper-wrapped parcel on the table. “A bit like bringing coal to Newcastle, but I figured you’d appreciate something like this for the collection you no doubt have at home.”
She was all too aware of his attention as she accepted the gift. The proffered gift was obviously a book, but her fingers still shook when she sliced open the tape with her thumbnail–a copy of Naked Lunch by William Burroughs. She had two at home, but didn’t want to come across as being ungrateful.
“Open it.” Simon’s smile didn’t waver. The overhead strip lights flashed on his glasses.
Emily gasped when she saw the author’s signature. She looked up at Simon. “You’re giving me a signed copy? He’s been dead since ninety-seven. This book must be worth a small fortune by now.”
He shrugged. “I figured it’s a small way I could repay you for helping me out yesterday with that douche who hassled me.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. I’m just glad the book has a home with someone who’ll truly appreciate it. It was given to me by an old friend who’s passed on, and I know he’d want me to give this to someone who’d cherish it.”
“You didn’t actually meet Burroughs?”
Simon laughed. “Lord no! I was still at college then. But the friend who gave me the book had been quite close to him during his last days.”
“That must have been pretty amazing.”
He glanced about, a frown playing across his features, and Emily worried that he might be thinking of leaving.
“Wanna go sit inside the shop, rather? I’ll make iced tea.”
“I’d like that.”
Emily gathered the gift’s leftover wrapping and, the book clutched to her chest, rose, leading the way back into Interzone.
“I figured you were into Burroughs when I saw the name of the shop.” Simon leaned against the wall while she busied herself with the tea things.
“Not many people get it, and the ones who do are the ones I prefer to see returning.” Emily blushed almost immediately. The last thing she needed right now was to sound overeager.
“I had a copy of Naked Lunch that I read from cover to cover several times until the spine finally gave and I kept losing sections of pages. Loved it so much I had a centipede tattooed on my back.”
“Really?” She stopped short of asking to see it, but her pulse quickened.
“Wanna see?” He flashed her a stupid grin then turned his back on her and lifted his shirt.
Fingers numb, Emily almost dropped the tea tin. A centipede wasn’t the only thing he had tattooed on his back, but the bug undulated along his spine in a mock ink-washed style, reminding her of illustrations from old scientific journals. It was surrounded on either side by a swarm of what looked like demon faces breaking through his flesh, as well as creatures that made her think of mutant bats.
“That’s quite a lot of ink.” Emily tried not to notice the well-defined muscles that slid beneath his skin. What she’d do to run her hand along…
He dropped his shirt before he turned to her. “You like? Most don’t. The pieces on the sides are genuine Paul Booths.”
“You forget. There’s a tattoo parlor in the mall. I’ve seen everything. The Booth must have cost you in cash and severe agony.” She’d spent enough time chatting to the guy from Chromium Ink to hold her own.
“Not quite the shrinking violet then?”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Do you have any ink?”
“Nah.” Emily shook her head. “There was a time I’d considered it, but didn’t have the dosh when I was young. The–” She almost said the guy I dated, but stopped in time. “The crowd I hung out with wasn’t really into that sort of stuff, so I just never got ‘round to it. And it hasn’t really occurred to me to think about it since.”
“Pity. I can see you with lotus-flower sleeve-work.”
“My mother would probably have a fit.”
“Why should you care what your mother thinks? You don’t still live with her, do you?”
Emily shook her head. “No, but I’m still close to her.” Now that was a lie, if ever there was. She wasn’t on the lookout for additional grief, not when her mother still blamed her for her sister turning into such a reprobate. “And you?”
Simon’s expression became guarded and he sighed, slumping slightly against the wall. “My mother passed on while I was in the States, and I’m not really on speaking terms with my father.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘
bout. He’s a pompous arse with his head so far up his crack he can’t smell his own shit. Occasionally I hear from relatives how he’s still going on about how much of a failure I am.”
“That sucks. But you’re making a living, right? It can’t be easy doing it full-time in the music industry.”
Simon gave her a queer look then shook his head. “The music industry is all right. Don’t really want to talk about what I do for a living. It’s boring.”
“Probably about as exciting as selling vintage books.” Emily sighed. “At least we can both say we meet interesting people in our line of work.” She clawed at topics for conversation and the last thing she wanted to do now was sound desperate.
“Oh, yeah, definitely.”
Much to her relief, that angle succeeded in getting him to share some anecdotes about some of the folk he’d encountered overseas. She lost track of how long they spoke, but a warm glow settled over Emily. It was only when Arnold, the security guard, peeked in to let her know he was lowering the barrier outside the front entrance that Emily felt a twinge of alarm.
“Oh my god, what’s the time?” she called after Arnold.
“Half past six, Emmy,” Arnold said. “You going home tonight?”
“Can you wait a minute? Just gotta lock up.”
He waved and left the shop.
She cast a glance at Simon who’d risen, his posture tense all of a sudden, as if he expected trouble.
“I’m sorry, I’ve a dinner appointment. Family stuff.” Rae would kill her. “My sister and I were supposed to have been there a half hour ago and I still need to walk home.”
“Where do you stay? I can give you a lift.”
Shocked by his offer, Emily almost refused, her inner critic screaming This is too soon! You’re rushing things! What if he’s crazy? But her good sense gave way to her reluctance of losing the moment. “Just up the road, really. Tamboerskloof.” Great, now she was getting an almost perfect stranger to drop her outside her front door.
“That’s not too far. Come.” He patted in his pocket for a set of keys then moved to stand outside the door.
Heart thudding in her throat, Emily closed her shop, conscious of the tall figure who lurked like a shadow. What was she thinking? What if he turned out to be some sort of weirdo who liked to do horrid things involving hot knives? But would a freak of nature make her feel so good, so alive? Stolen surreptitious glances revealed cheekbones accentuated by carefully shaped sideburns. Si obviously went to great pains when it came to his appearance. Not for the first time a twinge of familiarity nagged. Where had she seen him before?
She dredged her memories of the old days at The Event Horizon, of some guy fitting his description, but those times had been so alcohol-fuddled and clouded in a haze of narcotic green smoke, they had blurred. He said he’d played in a band, but back then most of the musicians had looked the same: pale-faced, serious young men who reveled in their long hair, heavy guitar riffs and hardcore attitudes.
Simon smiled when she secured the padlock. “You done?”
“Ja.”
He grinned and dug his hands deep in his pockets while he kept pace with her. Arnold waited for them at the entrance, the trellis already half descended.
The sun had only just settled behind the mountain, casting a blue haze over the city. The air was hot, but the bite had gone and Emily sighed as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
“This way, lady, to the trusty steed.” Simon gestured to a side road.
Emily tried to guess which car was his. Three vehicles were parked in a row: a Pajero, a battered Nissan Skyline and an Alfa GT. She half-expected the Nissan Skyline, but her heart skipped a beat when he pressed the remote and the gleaming gunmetal Alfa beeped back. Okay, so the guy was loaded. What had she expected?
Adrian had driven a battered Volvo he’d inherited from an aged aunt who’d become too dangerous to be behind the wheel. That was about the sum and extent for anything other than the average econo-boxes most people she knew drove. She said nothing as she slid onto the leather seat, buckling up immediately.
The engine purred into life and she directed him up the steep roads. Simon handled the car smoothly, the engine running on a subsonic level. She couldn’t help but notice how the muscles on his arms flexed as he turned the wheel. What would it feel like to... Emily swallowed hard and suppressed that thought.
“I always liked Tamboerskloof,” Simon said. “Got a place out in Sea Point, however.”
“The wind gets pretty bad here. You at least get the long sunsets. When winter comes, it’s freezing, but I have a fireplace.”
“Makes all the difference.”
An awkwardness settled on them, something she didn’t like at all. Simon’s jaw line displayed tension, as though he gritted his teeth.
She directed him to stop about two doors from her house. For some reason she was reluctant to let Rae see her arrive with Simon. Too soon.
“Well, I guess this is it.”
He sighed, those pale green eyes looking right into her. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?”
“I, erm… Nothing.” Her face grew warm and she hoped the twilight would be enough to mask her complexion.
“I know a great little bistro up in Gardens. Very chilled-out vibe. You keen? I can come pick you up after work, if you like. We can make it sundowners. My treat. Maybe go for a drive beforehand to watch the sunset.”
She couldn’t break eye contact and her throat was so tight she feared she’d start gasping like an asthmatic. “Sure.” The word came out sounding a bit scratchy, but the smile he gave her made up for her discomfort.
Acting on an impulse completely in opposition to her misgivings, Emily kissed him. Just the slightest contact, his lips parted beneath hers, but she pulled away before it could degenerate into anything more serious.
Simon blinked rapidly. “That’s…perfect.”
Emily grabbed her sling bag and climbed out of the car as quickly as possible. “Tomorrow, Simon. Thanks for the lift.”
She paused once at the gate to wave before he started the car and disappeared around the corner. Damn! She hadn’t asked for his number. But then again, he hadn’t asked for hers. Hell, she didn’t even know his surname.
Emily had to wait for half a minute before she unlocked the front door, but didn’t have a chance to get the key out, because Rae had beaten her to it. Her sister threw back the security chain and pulled back the door. “So who is he?”
“None of your beeswax.” Emily swept past Rae and dumped her bag on the dining room table.
“We’re late, you know. You’re out gallivanting with boys and Dad’s already called me three times to find out what the holdup is and I didn’t have any airtime to call the shop.”
“I’m sure Dad will live.” Emily knew she’d not be able to offer coherent conversation for the rest of the evening. For the first time in god knew how many years, she was excited again. And it felt very, very good.
Chapter 4
Red Wine and Rumpus
A hundred and fifty rand wasn’t bad for a first day’s taking. Rae had gone to Fish Hoek beach with some of her friends from school that afternoon after Davy had returned with the parcel and given her the cut she’d paid for. Though she’d raised a brow at the section he kept for his personal use, she had said nothing and folded up her smaller stops using old newspaper in the customary style in which she’d seen it arrive in from the townships.
She’d taken four of these packages with her to the beach, enjoyed some cheap red wine with some of the surfer guys and got rid of her entire stash at a tidy profit. Things could only improve once word spread. Tomorrow night she’d hit The Circus, and the best thing was the bouncers wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Granted, she’d wear more sun block the next time she went down to the beach. Her skin felt tender and tight, and she couldn’t lose her Gothic pallor, now could she? What on earth would her friends at The Event Horizon say?
* * * *
The signed Burroughs took pride of place in her collection. Emily couldn’t help but check on it first thing the following morning. Was it really the author’s signature? She had no way of telling unless she chased up some of her sources, but what would the point be? Emily had absolutely no intention of selling the book.
Emily did what she always did with her new books. She opened it to a random page and lifted it to her nose to inhale deeply. It was one way she tried to gain a sense of where the book had been. Some smelled like naphthalene mothballs, which suggested the previous owner was anal about bug control. Others had a stale tobacco scent, or a dusty been-on-the-shelves-for-centuries undertone.
The Burroughs Simon had given her smelled like patchouli. Emily smiled. It had been in his personal collection for a while then.
“What are you doing?” Rae stood in the passage leading from the bedrooms, still dressed in her Hello Kitty nightdress. Her serious bed head gave her the appearance of a creature belonging in a Tim Burton movie.
Emily grinned. “Indulging my senses.”
Her sister scrunched up her face. “That’s just plain weird. And people worry about me.”
“You don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to. Let’s go get breakfast. I’m surprised you’re even conscious after all the wine you consumed last night.”
“Never turn down an offer of free booze.”
Once the tea and toast were ready, the two sisters sat at the breakfast nook, Rae fiddling with her packet of beedies.
“Dad spoke with me last night when you went outside for a smoke,” Emily told her sister.
“And?”
“He reckons you can move in with him when he comes back from Bali.”
Rae grimaced. “But I don’t want to live with Dad. He has all these snooty friends over half the time. And his lady friends…” She gestured a parenthesis at lady friends.
“Do you want to go back to Mom?”
Rae shook her head with too much force for someone who should, by all rights, be lying flat on her back with a hangover.
Hell's Music Page 4
