Free The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene by David Carter Page A

have a glass of lager.’
       ‘I forgot about that,’ she giggled, and she dived into her maroon leather bag for her purse.
       It was an expensive bag, he noticed that much.
       She bought the drinks and then she said: ‘Shall we sit down?’
       ‘Sure,’ and they went and sat on the same bench seat where Maria and Vicky had briefly sat the night before.
       ‘I didn’t care for your mate much. He kept staring at us.’
       ‘Paul’s all right, he’s just a bit short-sighted.’
       ‘A bit! Vicky said he looked like a long streak of misery.’
       Yes, that was one of the nicknames that Gringo had heard several times before. That and Lurch and Piece of Piss and Wild Man of Borneo and The Liquorice Shoelace and others far ruder than that.
       ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ he said.
       ‘Like what?’
       ‘Like you for example.’
       In all his years on the prowl he had never come across a woman who didn’t revel in the chance to talk about herself, no matter how much they might protest otherwise. He was on safe ground and he knew it.
       ‘What do you want to know?’
       ‘Everything.’
       ‘I can’t tell all my secrets to a man I’ve just met.’
       ‘No, maybe not, but you can make a damned good start. Married? Single? Lovers? Children? Lesbian tendencies? Age? Family? Ambitions? Star sign? Come on, let’s hear it. Start talking. Chop chop chop.’
       Maria’s mouth fell open. ‘You are terrible.’
       ‘That’s as may be, but we have to begin somewhere.’
       ‘I’m not married, if you must know, no ring look,’ and she dangled her hand before his dark eyes. ‘So therefore it follows I am single, and thanks for enquiring. I don’t have any children, nor want any for a long time yet. I live in my own apartment near the station. I have no family, other than my mother and father who live in Solihull. My star sign is Libra, I am very ambitious, if you really must know, whether I have any lovers is for me to know and you to find out, gentlemen are not supposed to ask a lady’s age, but as you’re clearly not a gentleman, I shall tell you anyway, I am twenty-six, and as for the other malarkey you mentioned, something about tendencies, I refuse to answer that on the grounds it might incriminate me. How’s that for a start?’
       Malarkey, that was a good word. Gringo liked her. She had a sense of humour and a feistiness he always found endearing. She was pretty too, and that always helped. He’d never been out with a British Asian before, a black girl yes; and a Chinese one too, but not someone from the sub continent with roots in Goa. Goan? Goanna? Goer? He must ask. It would be fun finding out.
       ‘What about you?’ she said, sipping her wine.
       ‘I’m thirty-four. Tell me about your work?’
       It worked every time. Answer one question and turn the conversation back on the girl. They simply couldn’t wait to start talking about themselves again.
       ‘Take my finals next year. Bit nervous about it, if truth be told. In the meantime we get treated like the lowest of the low. All the bog standard auditing work from the crummy, crap companies that no one else is interested in. Harris’s Garden Sheds for example, who I’m working on right now, I mean… give me a break.’
       ‘I suppose someone has to check up on the financial health of Harris’s Garden Sheds.’
       ‘Yep, true, but not me thanks.’
       ‘Does it pay well?’
       ‘Not yet. Are you paid well, Gringo?’
       ‘Not as much as I’d like.’
       ‘Everyone says that.’
       Gringo emptied his drink.
       ‘Do you fancy going for a meal?’
       ‘Sure,’ she said, draining her glass.
       ‘English, Italian, Indian, what?’
       ‘I thought we’d go Indian next time.’
       They shared a coy smile. It wasn’t lost on Gringo the intimation that there would be a next time . The girl had made plans, and there was