Deano, intrigued, was not averse to the suggestion. The chance to get Jenna’s lover and his rival in private seemed too good to pass up.
He got out of the car and hurried, his too-fashionably-tight shoes pinching his toes somewhat, over towards the gloomy dustbin shed.
‘Jason, isn’t it?’ he called, before his quarry could press the doorbell of the flat he meant to visit.
Jason turned around, his face dark with hostility.
‘Who wants to know …? Oh. It’s you.’
‘Yes,’ said Deano, feeling slightly foolish standing in this desolate spot in his expensively distressed denim and leather. ‘Deano. Sorry, we never did get a proper introduction, did we?’
Jason just stared, making Deano’s scalp crawl with embarrassment.
He pressed on regardless, holding out a hand.
‘Er, fancy a drink, mate?’ he hazarded.
‘I’ve come to see my mum,’ said Jason blankly. ‘And I don’t get what you’re doing here. Are you stalking me or what?’
‘No, just happened to catch sight of you … thought a chat might be nice … Y’know, man to man. Friendly, I promise. I’m always friendly.’ He looked around nervously. Some attention was coming their way from the direction of the shops. ‘Look, we’re about to get mobbed. Please?’
He waved a hand at the waiting car.
Jason shrugged.
‘What the hell?’ he said. ‘Might at least get a decent bevvy out of you.’
He followed Deano to the car and climbed into the back seat behind him.
Deano noticed that Harville had his head well down and he spoke in a gruff, unrecognisable voice once the doors were shut.
‘Shall I drive on, boss?’ he said.
‘Oh … yeah,’ said Deano, slightly confused by the chauffeur schtick, but supposing there must be rhyme and reason to it, given the bad blood that was meant to exist between him and Jason.
Jason seemed oblivious to the man in front, obviously assuming him to be a hired driver. He was too interested in Deano himself.
‘So, what’s this about?’ he said abruptly. ‘Going to get me behind the bike sheds and duff me up for taking your girl off you? Is that it?’
‘Not at all,’ said Deano with an uncomfortable chuckle. ‘You know I’m keen to make this documentary. I thought perhaps you’d put in a word for me.’
‘No need,’ said Jason coolly. ‘I reckon she’ll do it.’
Deano caught a breath. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Well … she wasn’t exactly up for it, last time I saw her.’
‘No. It was the shock of you turning up like that. You should’ve given her some warning.’
Deano nodded.
‘OK, it was a mistake, I see that. But you think she’s calmed down now?’
‘I think she’s worked out that the only way to get rid of you is to do this film,’ said Jason, with an edge of cruel satisfaction.
Deano was pierced.