‘Hey! Layla! Layla Carter!’
She stopped dead on the pavement. She wasn’t ten paces from her office building. Junior was rushing towards her. Two men immediately moved in and jostled her backward; two more grabbed Junior.
‘Shit!’ complained Layla, dropping her pack of sandwiches.
‘What the fuck?’ bellowed Junior.
People were turning, staring.
‘It’s OK, it’s only Junior,’ she said quickly. ‘My cousin.’
The heavies drew back. The two holding Junior dropped him. He straightened his jacket, glaring at them. ‘Thank you,’ he said, stalking towards Layla. ‘Jesus, is this all to do with what your mum told us about? What’s going on?’
He really was very good looking, thought Layla. And very aggressive. Very in-your-face. Which was quite attractive, in a man. Layla thought of the contrast between loud, bouncy, bolshy Junior, who always seemed such a child, and Alberto, who was so adult, so smooth, so polished – and yet so deadly. Just thinking of him, she felt her stomach contract with longing.
‘What has Mum told you?’ she asked him cautiously.
‘That we should clear off out of it, that there’s trouble. The thing with her car. And she said someone tried to nab you.’
‘That’s right. But you haven’t gone,’ said Layla.
He shrugged. ‘Molls and Mum have.’
‘Not you though?’
‘I’m not scared of some bastard I can’t even see,’ said Junior.
Isn’t that the scariest type? thought Layla. ‘So Mum told you about the bomb?’
‘Christ, everyone heard about that. It was on the freakin’ news.’
‘Well, I’d say that was pretty damned scary.’
‘Look, I’ve got to go. Working,’ said Junior, planting a smacker on her cheek. ‘See ya, Layla.’
Then he was gone, surging off into the crowds. She watched him go, springing along on his toes. So bloody self-confident. Whatever Mum had said to him, he clearly hadn’t been listening, or he’d be running for the hills right now.
Layla walked on, crossed the road to the park.
‘Hey! Layla!’ She was searching out a free seat when the female voice halted her. She turned. Four minders in eye-line. And Precious, hurrying along in jeans and a cream ruffled shirt, her hair loose and bouncing around her beautiful face, her luminous grey eyes alight with a smile.
‘Hi, Precious,’ grinned Layla. Precious’s was only the second friendly face she had seen since starting work this morning.
Two of the minders approached, watching Precious, their hands creeping inside their jackets. Layla shook her head hard, and they backed off.
‘Here’s a free one,’ said Precious, and they sat down on a guano-spattered bench under the shade of a tree.