Bombproof Read Free

darkest legal tint.
    As Sami walks past a window glides down.
    ‘Are you Sami Macbeth?’ asks a squeaky voice coming from a head so round and smooth it looks like it should be bobbing on the end of a string. Maybe that explains his voice, thinks Sami.
    There are three other guys in the car all wearing dark suits like they’re auditioning for a Guy Ritchie film. They’re not friends of Nadia’s and they’re not from the local mini-cab firm.
    ‘Are you fucking deaf?’ asks the guy with the balloon-shaped head.
    Sami scratches his cheek. Tries to stay calm. ‘Why do you want Macbeth?’
    ‘You him or not?’
    ‘No, mate,’ says Sami, swinging his bag over his shoulder. ‘Macbeth kicked off at breakfast this morning. Got into a row with some bloke and threw a mug of tea in his face. They’re keeping him in.’
    ‘For how long?’
    Sami motions over his shoulder. ‘Knock on the door. Maybe they’ll tell you.’
    Then he gives a little skip as he walks away, telling himself not to look back. What do these guys want with him? Where’s Nadia?
    Down the street he finds a bus stop. Sits down. Waits some more.
    A bus pulls up. The poster on the side shows a woman in a bikini lying on a pool chair. Golden skin. Clear eyes. Sami is so busy looking at the girl he forgets to get on the bus. The doors close. The bus pulls away.
    He waits. Another bus comes. The driver doesn’t look at him.
    ‘Where you going?’
    ‘Station.’
    ‘Which one?’
    ‘Nearest.’
    ‘Two quid.’
    Sami takes a window seat. Looks at the playing fields. Nadia must have had to work. She’ll have left a note at the flat. They’ll celebrate later. Order a curry. Watch a DVD.
    Ever since their mum died, Sami and Nadia have looked after each other. And even before then, he’d kept Nadia out of harm’s way when any of their father’s lecherous friends took a liking to her.
    She wanted to leave school at sixteen. Sami made her stay. He did courier jobs, drove a van. At night he played gigs. He wasn’t cock deep in cash but he had enough to keep the wolf from the door.
    Sami had often wondered what that saying meant. What sort of wolf - the fairytale kind, like in Little Red Riding Hood or the Three Little Pigs, or the human kind?
    It wasn’t always happy families. Sami and Nadia’s fights were legendary. That’s the thing about Nadia. She’s not some sort of innocent butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth angel. She’s had her moments. Skipping school. Underage drinking. Sneaking into nightclubs when she was only fifteen.
    Nadia also had some black days. It was a family disease. A school counsellor wanted to send her to a psycho-whatsit, but Sami wouldn’t let them. He also had to fight Social over letting her live with him. He went to court. Won. Didn’t rub it in. You don’t give them any excuses.
    For a long time Nadia had no idea she was beautiful. Blokes would have licked shit off a stick for her, but she didn’t care. After a while she began to realise.
    She had a few modelling shots taken when she was seventeen, glossy professional ones, soft focus around the edges. She touted her portfolio around some of the modelling agencies but they said she didn’t have the look they were after, you know, the anorexic don’t-let-me-near-the-fridge heroin chic look.
    She did have something going for her. The photographers knew it. One of the agents knew it. Nadia had that vulnerable, big eyes, full lips, just-been-shagged look that directors love. Porn directors.
    Sweet but not so innocent Nadia.
    Sami saved her from the wolves.
    That’s what big brothers are for.

    2
    Vincent Ruiz’s worst dream has always included an orange sledge and an ice-covered pond with a hole at its centre. A child is pulled from within, blue lips, blue skin. He is to blame.
    His second worst dream features a man called Ray Garza, who is like the ghost of Christmas past showing Ruiz his past failings. Garza’s face has sharp features, bone beneath skin, with a