Page 13 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
As he followed Mr Impossible across the car park towards a silver Aston Martin, he changed his mind about the guy being a hotel inspector. He had money. It might not be a new Aston, but even so. Wayne’s lime green Mini was parked next to it and Jonty positioned himself at the rear of Wayne’s car. Something that earned him an eye roll, but gave him a huge sense of satisfaction. The Aston Martin’s boot glided open.
“Ah, that car,” Jonty said in a tone that implied complete innocence.
The “Hmm” that followed told him he’d not fooled anyone.
“You take the cases and I’ll get the rest.”
Jonty lifted out two matching black suitcases that contained neither weights nor dead bodies. At least, he didn’t think so unless he’d developed super strength and not noticed until now. He didn’t want to get an earful for scratching paintwork, so he was careful. There was something bulky on the back seat but Mr Sulky only picked up a briefcase and gym bag, along with a dark grey peacoat and a waterproof hooded jacket.
“Do you want the other bags?” Jonty asked.
“No.”
Jonty carried the cases into the hotel to avoid scratching the wheels—I am a saint—then rolled them over to the lift.Perfect behaviour. Ten out of ten.The guy stepped in after him and Jonty pressed the button for the top floor.
Mr Trouble smelled of coconut and Jonty inhaled the sweet scent. Something spicy might suit him better.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“I’m merely breathing heavily after lifting these cases!” Jonty put as much indignation into his voice as he could, while he thoughtshit, shit, shit,then panted to make it appear realistic.
It’s not.
Thanks, Tay. I could pretend to have an asthma attack.
Don’t. It sounds too much like you’re having sex.
Bastard.
Tay laughed.
“Thanks for sorting out the room,” the guy said. “And the breakfast. It was very good.”
Surprise meant it took a long second for Jonty to respond. “You’re welcome.”
His attitude mellowed—slightly. At least he’d been thanked. He knew better than to make snap judgements, because everyone made them about him. One look and they thought—flake. He smothered his giggle.
“Are you here for a holiday?” Jonty asked. “We have lots of brochures in the lobby about local attractions and I can—”
“No.”
The lift jolted to a halt. Maybe he was up in Northumberland for a funeral, or to visit a sick friend or relative.Oh God.His ailing grandmother who’d brought him up after his parents died in that tsunami in Asia. Devan had survived by hanging onto a tree.
Devan now?
Shut up, Tay.
Or he might be a serial killer looking for his next victim.
Really shut up.
Jonty followed the guy out of the lift, but stepped ahead of him to open the door of the suite with his master card, then held it open for him to go in first.
“You have a key?” Mr Difficult gaped at him.
“In case there’s an emergency and I need to drag you from your bed before fire sweeps through your room. Or sea levels suddenly rise and flooding becomes imminent. Or…”Don’t mention zombies.
What he’d said, earned him a heavy sigh.
