Someone Who Isn't Me, Danuta Kot [good books to read for adults TXT] 📗

back from her. ‘And then you just…’ He tossed it across the bar, where it landed in the recycling bin. He grinned again, pleased with himself, and picked up one of the bottles. ‘Like I said, no law against carrying a newspaper.’ He took a drink.

‘Hey, Doc. Where’s our drinks?’ It was Sal Capone. Becca had always thought she was quite young – sort of Johnny Dip’s age, and might even be his girlfriend. She seemed to hang out with him and his mates. Only now that Becca could see her more clearly in the light of the bar, she looked quite a bit older, the model-thinness making her look a bit haggard, with lines around her mouth and eyes.

Even so, Becca had to admit she looked cool. There was something about her that made Becca think of a younger Kay. She had an old trench coat slung across her shoulders, a scarf flung with careful casualness round her neck and a black fedora tipped at an angle that shaded her eyes. It was an odd mix but she made it work. Matt used to say that Kay would look good in a feed sack, whatever that was, but it was true, Kay always had that same stylish look.

Or always used to. Not now, so much, when she seemed to live in her old walking gear. The thought made Becca frown and she almost missed what Sal Capone said next.

She’d put her fingers to her lips. ‘Oops,’ she said to Johnny Dip, for no reason Becca could see. ‘Hey, don’t we have something on tonight?’ She picked up his beer and lifted it to her mouth, ignoring Becca.

Johnny Dip smiled down at her. ‘Big time.’ He was carefully constructing a roll-up, his attention focused on that.

‘You said it. Hey,’ she plucked the roll-up from his fingers. ‘Join me outside for a while, OK?’

He nodded. ‘In a minute.’

Sal Capone looked at Becca for the first time and smiled, just a movement of her mouth. Her eyes were sharp and bright. Andy had been right to name her after a gangster. There was no warmth there.

She was studying Becca closely. ‘I know you. Where have I seen you before? What’s your name?’

‘They call her Becca,’ Johnny Dip replied for her, as he completed another roll-up. Becca, who’d been about to speak, closed her mouth, frowning. She could answer for herself.

Sal Capone ignored him. Her eyes wandered across Becca in an assessing way. ‘I have a beauty business,’ she said, slowly. ‘I’m always looking out for models. I think you probably photograph very well. In fact, I know you do. Even with the…’ She gestured towards her own mouth, indicating the place where the scar made Becca’s lip a bit crooked. ‘You know, I’ve seen your picture. On the internet.’

Becca felt her face flush scarlet. A couple of years ago, she’d made a bit of money camming. She’d called herself Bexgirl, and she’d done quite well – until it all went wrong. Sal Capone had to be talking about Bexgirl. ‘I’m not interested,’ she said.

The other woman raised her eyebrows in exaggerated disbelief. ‘Really? Up to you. I pay well, though. Remember that.’ She turned away and looked up at Johnny Dip. ‘Coming for a smoke? We have things to talk about. I’ll wait for you outside.’ She headed for the exit, raising her hand in a kind of farewell.

Modelling. Becca was prepared to bet that though Sal Capone might have a beauty business – might – when it came down to it the modelling would have more to do with taking your clothes off than putting them on. If she was going to take her clothes off in front of a camera again, she’d go back to camming. Make her own money, not give most of it to someone else.

She looked straight at Johnny Dip, who seemed in no hurry to move. Did he know about the camming as well? Had Andy known? Was that why he’d liked her? Maybe they’d all been perving about her photographs. She’d seen Andy talking to Sal Capone more than once. ‘Is she a mate of yours?’

Johnny Dip shrugged.

Becca hesitated. When Curwen first came in, he’d asked her about the people Andy hung out with. They hadn’t talked about that last night, so she hadn’t said anything. She could tell him about Johnny Dip, but maybe she could get some other names, find out a bit more about what Andy had been doing. ‘What do they call her?’ she said. The woman had got Becca’s name, but she hadn’t given her own.

Johnny Dip grinned. ‘Lots of things.’

‘Wasn’t she mates with, you know, that guy who got in trouble…?’

He glanced at her then looked away again. ‘You mean the guy who got himself killed? I don’t think so.’

‘What happened?’ She tried to keep her voice casual.

‘About what?’

‘The guy who got himself killed. I kind of, you know, knew him.’

He shook his head. ‘No idea.’

That was what people said when they didn’t want to tell you something. Andy had hung out with Johnny Dip, Becca had seen them together. ‘But you were mates, right?’

‘Listen, love, no one was that guy’s mate.’ She saw a gleam of amusement in his eyes and felt her face going red. ‘Something you maybe need to understand. The guy was all business. A dealer. A wannabe dealer. Sold weed and a few pills. Strictly small-time, strictly pond life. But he had big ideas. He wanted to move up the chain and he pissed someone off big-time.’

‘Andy?’ Something inside her felt tight with an emotion she couldn’t identify, not anger, it was more like sadness. Sadness that this was what Andy had come to. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. But another voice in her head was jeering, Yeah, right, he was a lying, druggie creep. She wasn’t thinking about Curwen any more when she asked the next question. She wanted to know, for herself. ‘So who? Who did he piss off?’

‘Who did