Acid Lullaby Read Online Free Page B

juicier.’
    ‘I’d never have guessed you were into all that stuff.’
    ‘I’m full of surprises. There’s a mythology exhibition at The British Museum this week as it happens. I’m going on Saturday. You should come.’ Max waved at the wine waiter who pulled a notebook from his pocket and drifted over.
    ‘I got better things to do on a Saturday than hang out in some stinking museum, bud.’
    ‘Stinking?’
    ‘Good evening,’ the waiter smiled at them.
    ‘Champagne,’ Max said without looking at him. ‘Not the house muck. Something decent.’
    ‘Of course, Monsieur.’
    ‘And you can ditch the accent. I’m not a tourist.’
    The waiter froze, bit his tongue and walked away. Liz was horrified.
    ‘Max, you are so rude.’
    ‘He’s about as French as my nuts.’ Max studied her closely for a second, his eyes moving over her. ‘I’ve got a question for you now.’
    ‘Shoot.’
    ‘What’s this I hear about you shagging some monkey from Settlements? Slouch or Couch or something.’
    ‘Crouch. That’s nothing. Just a kink I gotta iron out.’ Liz felt a sudden sting of guilt. She tried to dab the wound away.
    ‘Someone like you doesn’t need any dead wood.’
    ‘He’s a nice guy but it’s never going to work out. He’s kind of possessive.’
    ‘Ditch the bitch, I say. There are winners and losers. Blokes like that live in a cheap, spivvy little world. Cheap beer. Cheap clothes. A suffocating mortgage. Motorway nightclubs. Match of the Day. You don’t want that. Don’t demean yourself.’
    Liz shook her head slowly. ‘You’re just an incurable romantic, aren’t you?’
    Two champagne glasses appeared before them on the table. Max tasted the wine, gold and sparkling.
    ‘Spot on!’ He gestured at the waiter to continue pouring. ‘Seriously bloody spot on.’
    The bubbles nibbled at his tongue. He felt empowered. Liz sipped her champagne and he noticed the soft smear of lipstick she left on the lip of the glass. It was going to be a long and fruitful evening.
6
    The following morning Simon Crouch got into work early. He was at his desk at 7a.m. He hoped to have a chat with Liz before the market opened and she immersed herself in trades, emails and excuses. He walked across the lift lobby fromSettlements onto the hallowed ground of the trading floor. Most of the traders and bond salesmen were already at their desks. Some glugged coffee from expensive cardboard containers, others enjoyed the tits on page three and a few stared intently at their trading screens hunting out the titbit of information that might give them an edge.
    Eventually he arrived at the eurodollar trading desk in the centre of the floor. It was distinctive for three reasons: first, it had a line of US flags stretching across the tops of the computer monitors as if they denoted forces on a battlefield diorama. Secondly, a large rubber Yoda dangled above the desk in a noose. The toy had a piece of cardboard sellotaped across its belly that said: ‘May the Bourse be with you.’ Thirdly, Danny Planck, head of trading, was already booming instructions at his beleaguered foot soldiers.
    ‘The word today is Gas, boys and girls. We are expecting a billion spondoolies to hit the market from Arizona Natural Resources. Now as you know, this is a skittish market. It’s jumping about like a kangaroo in a carwash. The extra supply won’t help.’
    Planck picked up the baseball bat he kept by his desk and waved it around for emphasis. Crouch hung back. He had seen Planck smash up computer screens with his bat.
    ‘Look for simple switches into quality credits. Don’t bugger around. Use my tip list. Dangle your balls in the fire at your own peril.’ Planck looked around and picked up the bacon roll from his desk. ‘Now which one of you piss ants has taken my ketchup?’
    Planck spotted Crouch hovering nervously at his elbow.
    ‘What do you want, Crouchie? My trading sheets messed up again?’
    ‘Is Liz around?’ Crouch found his