Blood Sister: A thrilling and gritty crime drama Read Online Free Page B

place and she was a bad girl, a very bad girl.
    When the door swung open to allow someone out, she could hear a woman singing karaoke. She didn’t know the name of the song, but she’d heard her mum play that tune. The singer was making a right racket, wailing about standing by your man. The place couldn’t be all that bad if it was playing crap music that her mum liked.
    Tiffany moved into the side street next to the pub and waited. The bouncer couldn’t stand there forever and he was on his own. He’d have to take a piss sooner or later and then she was in. But as she waited, she had a better idea. On the side wall the pub had a series of frosted windows and one of them was open at the top. She walked up to it, gripped the frame and hauled herself up. She looked up and down the street to make sure no one was looking and poked her head and shoulders through. She was skinny and knew she would make it. But as she did so, she came face to face with a man standing at a urinal.
    He didn’t seem in the least bit phased. Instead he smiled. ‘If you’ve been caught short, the window for the ladies is next door.’
    When she got over her initial shock, she said, ‘Yeah, you can help actually. Can you help me get in this joint? I had a problem with the bouncer – he thinks I’m too young.’
    He looked her up and down. ‘Well, you can see why he might have thought that.’
    ‘Oh come on mister – you’re not a cop or from the council are you? What do you care?’
    The man shook the last drops off his little friend. Tiffany couldn’t help looking at it. Weren’t they meant to be bigger than that? His would’ve lost in a competition with a chipolata. He hesitated for a moment before lifting his arms and helping her wriggle her way through the window. He took her by the waist and lowered her to the floor. He looked baffled. ‘Are you sure you’re in the right place? Only you look like you’re dressed for a night out in Romford, love, rather than a pub like this.’
    She straightened herself up. ‘I’m here to see a man about a dog.’
    That must have tickled him because he smiled again at her. ‘Well, give him a pat on the head for me.’
    ‘The man or the dog?’
    ‘Either suits me . . .’
    There were two bars. One was full of fit and trendy men while the other was crowded with women who seemed to have dressed to avoid the ‘night out in Romford’ look. The karaoke tunes weren’t the sort that filled a dance floor in Romford either. It was then that the penny dropped for Tiffany. She rolled her eyes and whispered, ‘Oh hell . . .’
    A gay bar. Not that she had a problem with gay people. She was in favour of anything that narked other people off – shoplifting, gayness, whatever else – as long as someone, somewhere, didn’t like it, she was happy. It was just that back on the estates, you didn’t meet gay people; you only heard about them as figures of fun or hatred. She’d never met any and this pub was rammed with gayness. She’s never seen this stuff up close before, especially the women. A few were dancing, most were just chatting, but Tiff’s breath caught when she saw a couple tonguing each other in a corner. She dragged her gaze away, suddenly feeling pissed off that she hadn’t been forewarned by the boss man in the Bad Moon. Perhaps it was his idea of a little joke. But it took more than a pub like this to get a laugh at the expense of Tiffany Miller.
    ‘I want an absinthe cocktail,’ she ordered when she hit the bar.
    The trendy barmaid with the gelled back sides and quiff, and Love Heart stud earring, was at a loss. ‘A what?’
    An absinthe cocktail was the code words she’d been given by the man in the Bad Moon – but this female Elvis lookalike serving drinks didn’t seem to get it. So Tiffany repeated her request and added, ‘You know what I mean . . . ?’ to make her point. The barmaid looked even more confused.
    That was until a man, who’d been loitering in