Mimmy jumped down from the curtain and settled in the basket full of logs. Kit bent to scratch her ears and this time the kitten accepted the caress.
He wasn’t going to dwell on the past, or the horrid call. Hopefully, it’d be a one off, and whatever prick it was, wouldn’t go upsetting Ross and Evie.
It wasn’t Tony. He’d seen Tony earlier. The meeting had been brief and ended in a rather inevitable fashion. He reached up and ran his fingertips over the uneven line of glue. That whack had been a long time coming.
The phone rang again. Kit snatched it up. “Fuck off, will you?” he snapped this time, letting his frustration get the better of him.
“Your phone manner sucks,” Ross remarked dryly. “Didn’t they teach you how to be polite in Japan?”
Ross. Relief relaxed Kit’s straining muscles. “Sorry. I’ve just had a wanker on the phone.”
“Salesman?”
Kit made a noncommittal grunt.
“I phoned to make sure everything had gone fine between you and Evie.”
Fine? Well, that depended entirely on your definition. He sat down and pulled his booted foot up on his knee. “’Course.”
“Really?” The question in Ross’s voice highlighted his disbelief. “That’s not quite her version of it. I’d say you’d pissed her off.”
“You’ve spoken to her?”
A snort of mirth echoed along the line. “Hardly a shocker. We are an item. She sent a text a while ago.”
“What did she say?” The fact that Ross was laughing rather than yelling suggested she hadn’t said anything too bad.
Throaty laughter still rumbled with his words as Ross replied. “She said that you’re a prize dick, whose idea of lunch is a cup of cocoa in a polystyrene mug and a bag of crisps in a lay-by. Real classy. I can only assume you left all that sophisticated charm of yours back in Kabukicho.”
“The place she wanted to go was closed, and it’s nicer up on the moors looking at a bit of scenery than it is sitting in a car park.” Heavens knows why he felt he had to justify himself. She’d been the one calling the location shots.
“I’m teasing you, Kit. How’s the head?”
Kit ran his fingers over the seam of glue again. “Aching.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve taken anything.”
“You know I don’t do drugs.”
An exasperated sigh bled into his ear. “I’m talking about a couple of frickin aspirin, not suggesting you start snorting coke. Painkillers. Headache. They work. I’m not surprised Evie thought you were a prick.”
“I’ll make some green tea.”
“’Cause that’s known for its analgesic properties.”
“It is actually.”
“Okay, okay, you win. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, take it easy. See if you can get some shut eye.”
Ross ended the call. Kit flopped against the back of the sofa still cradling the handset. After a moment or two of indecisive fidgeting, he hit recall. There were better ways to deal with stuff than swallowing a handful of pills, like using positive associations to replace the negative ones before they properly took hold.
Ross picked up on the fourth ring.
“Are you alone?” Kit asked, deliberately making his voice sound low and husky.
“Kit?” The question in Ross’s voice rang out. “I’m in the staff room. I was just getting a coffee before my next appointment. But there’s no one about. What’s up?”
“Switch the phone to your left hand.”
