The gargoyle behind the bar was pouring the drinks when Bertie the Bolt stepped out of the toilets. Solitaire’s heart sank. She hoped he was too drunk to see through her disguise.
Bertie pulled up his fly and sniffed his fingers. He grinned when he saw Solitaire. If she’d been playing the celebrity lookalike game, she’d have cast Ving Rhames as Howard. And Bertie was pure Wayne Roth. It was like being at a Tarantino theme night.
‘Well, well. I do believe we have a w**********l on the premises,’ he slurred as he staggered towards Solitaire. ‘And a pricey one too, I imagine.’
He wrapped a hairy arm around her waist. ‘Still, quality costs,’ he said.
Solitaire sighed. She’d hoped to seduce Howard back to her hotel. Lock him in the room until he dried out. But the presence of Bertie the Bol
