Free Sudden Death by Phil Kurthausen Page A

room. The facing wall of the room was covered in a mural, ten feet high at least and as wide as the room, of Wayne sitting in an armchair with Steph, wearing nothing but a bikini, sitting on his knee and holding a football. Erasmus nearly laughed but stopped himself just in time.
    Steph looked at Erasmus. She took a cigarette from a packet on the mantelpiece and lit it. She blew out the smoke fiercely and then looked up at the massive portrait.
    ‘It was Wayne’s idea. What can I say?’
    She sat down on a white couch and indicated to Erasmus that he should take a seat opposite her on a facing couch. He did so. There was around fifteen feet between them.
    ‘So, Mr Scorta, what do you want to speak to my boyfriend about?’
    She smiled this time but her cool, blue eyes narrowed slightly.
Girlfriend or bodyguard, or probably a bit of both
, thought Erasmus. It seemed everybody had a stake in brand Wayne.
    ‘He invited me to lunch. It’s kind of an apology, did he tell you what happened at the Blood House Bar?’
    Her eyes rolled.
    ‘That fucking bar.’
    ‘You don’t like it?’
    ‘You’ve been there, haven’t you? You’ve seen the girls throwing themselves at the players?’
    ‘I have yeah. It’s what my parents would call a meat market but I’m sure Wayne knows how to handle it.’
    She looked upwards and blew out a long stream of smoke.
    ‘So, how did you meet Wayne?’
    A look of anger crossed her face.
    Erasmus had wondered if that was how Steph had snared Wayne. She must have guessed what he was thinking.
    ‘I grew up three doors down from him. He played football in our street and his Jenna was my best friend. I was there for him when his dad died when he was eleven. I’ve known him when he was dirt poor and he can trust me. I’m not like those gold diggers. And you can drop the attitude, I know exactly what your job entails. You’re nothing more than a pimp.’ She spat the words out as a challenge.
    Erasmus shook his head.
    ‘Nope, I don’t do that. The club has asked me to look after Wayne and that’s all I intend to do and that doesn’t cover providing him with women. If it’s any reassurance I can tell you that when I’ve talked with Wayne all he wanted to do was talk about music, martial arts and well, you.’
    Not strictly the truth but Erasmus’s dad had told him you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but he had a feeling that his dad had never met someone like Steph though.
    She pursed her lips to one side as though chewing.
    ‘I tell you what, Erasmus – and what kind of a name is that anyway? – I think you’re full of shit but I want to believe you so I’m making a choice that I will, but let’s be clear, if I find out you are lying to me I’ll have your balls,’ she mimed the cutting action of a pair of scissors with her fingers, ‘in a bag and mounted above that fucking picture do you understand?’
    Erasmus smiled.
    ‘Crystal clear. Any chance of a cup of tea?’
    Steph laughed and the in-your-face, hard, Scouse façade dropped for a second and Erasmus could suddenly see the young girl, not yet twenty-one surely, who lived under the glitter.
    ‘Do I look like a scivvy to you?’
    Her mouth remained open, her ruby red lips hanging there in a pout of mass destruction that she had no doubt employed effectively many times before.
    Erasmus never got to answer the question. Steph raised an eyebrow.
    ‘I’m vibrating,’ she said. She slid a hand into her top and pulled out a tiny, gold-plated phone from between her cleavage. ‘Hi ya love?’ As she listened her face became stern again. ‘What? Are you fucking kidding me? With that twat! You promised you would be back here. And I’ve got your fucking gopher sitting her looking at my tits, as well. What do you want me do with him?’ Another pause. ‘Cunt!’ she said and threw the phone on the couch.
    Erasmus worked on the basis that the ‘cunt’ was not meant for the gopher.
    ‘Was that Wayne?’
    Steph