In celebration of Playing Dead hitting one million reads this week, here's a little bonus chapter for you all as a thank you for being such wonderful, supportive, incredible readers!
Please note, however, that this chapter has no connection to the plot of Playing Dead whatsover. None of what you are about to read has actually happened....it's a 'What If.....?' chapter. But damn, what if........?!
Enjoy! And thank you once again, dear Chapelites.
Linz xxxxxx
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The woman took a long drag on her cigarette, gripping it between nicotine-stained fingers and blowing the smoke out of the side of her mouth as she eyed me suspiciously.
"Oh don't mind her," Garrick smiled. "She just likes to watch."
She sniffed dismissively which turned quickly into a hacking cough and I wrinkled my nose as spittle flew from her mouth, which she barely bothered to cover. "Don't care if she does or she doesn't," she snapped when she managed to get her cough under control. "But if you want her to join in, it's another twenty. Thirty if you just want to watch me and her."
"Really?" Garrick replied with a devilish glint in his eyes. "That's definitely something to consider."
"Well, hurry the fuck up and decide, I got other punters to see, right? Can't keep me regulars waiting." Dragging hard on the cigarette right down to the butt, she threw it to the floor and stubbed it out under her scuffed heeled boot. Immediately she lit up another one, this time blowing the smoke directly into Garrick's face. He responded with an amused smirk.
"Just me," he said, before nodding in my direction. "Like I said, she prefers the voyeur approach."
"Whatever," the woman replied, shrugging.
Her hair, despite the obscene amount of hairspray attempting to hold it up, was lank and greasy and she reeked of whiskey and sweat. Leaning against the wall of the derelict warehouse, behind which we now stood, she ran her eyes over Garrick from head to toe and I could see her appraising him as her gaze wandered up and down. I was willing to bet the like of Garrick wasn’t her usual type of customer. In fact, I was sure of it. After all, how many of her regulars happened to be a six foot tall vampire with an outgrown Mohawk and in charge of the vampire population of London?
We waited while she finished the fourth cigarette she'd smoked since we had first met her on Brick Lane, not far from the disused warehouse where she touted her trade. Behind her on the wall someone had spray painted Love Is In The Air in big black letters and I stifled a laugh to see it. Throwing the cigarette to one side, the smoke still drifting up lazily by her feet, she held out her hand, making a grabbing motion with her fingers.
"Money first, pretty boy," she insisted.
"But of course," Garrick nodded and reached into his khaki military-style jacket and pulled out a crumpled twenty, which she snatched and tucked into the cup of her half-exposed bra.
Gripping the hem of her very short black jersey miniskirt, she yanked it up over her thighs to reveal a pair of scarlet silk knickers. I noticed that the edge was fraying and a length of lace ribbon hung partway down her pale thigh.
"Come on then," she sighed as if already bored. "Hurry up, will you?"
"Not sure anyone's said that to me before, but sure....okay." Garrick raised an eyebrow and stepped towards her, playing with the button on his jeans. I shoved my fist into my mouth and bit down on my knuckle, trying to prevent the giggle from bursting free. I quickly managed to suppress my mirth, replacing it easily with awe and admiration as I watched him do what he did best.
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Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles
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