Chapter 9

** * *

“Be careful with that box,

I don’t want you breaking a fingernail or anything.”

“Fuck off,” Trevor said

before hefting the large carton of LPs.

It was Saturday morning.

Trevor had offered to help Paul salvage what he could from his

wrecked house.

“Sorry.” Paul was smiling,

as was Trevor.

“When you said you had a

record collection, I didn’t think we were talking about a—” Trevor

groped for the right word. “A whole bloody vinyl

archive.”

“One of my few

vices.”

Trevor set the box in the

boot of Paul’s car and raised an eyebrow. Paul put down his own

box. “And what might these other vices be? Do any of these boxes

contain, uh, leather pants, motorcycle jackets or—”

Paul laughed. “Are we

talking about my vices or yours?”

Trevor had the good grace

to look sheepish. “A girl can dream.”

“Come on, there’s loads

more inside.” Paul turned away and went back into the

house.

Trevor stared after him.

At times he wasn’t sure what Paul was thinking. The bloke could