Read Online Meta Zero One by Martin J Moss - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Martin J Moss
Ads: Link
with three naked supermodels, and to make it worse he knew what to do with them.
He looked, in short, like the sort of man that Stanley would hate on sight, the sort of man who was everything that Stan wasn't.
He could have been a former boyfriend, Susie had been very close mouthed about any earlier men in her life. If that was true then she had made a huge step change by going out with Stan, that was for sure.
If that was true then Stan had been punching massively above his weight.
The man stood up and strode, he didn't walk, he strode away from Susie's grave, towards the large metal gate and out of the graveyard.
He was quickly followed by another man, who Stan did not see until he moved out from the shadow of a tree. He was dressed in a grey raincoat, wearing a grey hat and dark sunglasses.
He looked like a cop.
In fact if you went to a fancy dress party as a cop, a private detective or FBI agent, then you would almost certainly have looked exactly like him.
Even down to the large, telephoto lens camera he had clutched in his right hand.
On impulse Stanley followed him, and just got to the gates in time to see him get into a dull grey Volvo estate and drive off. It wasn't until the car was out of sight that Stan remembered to look for the number plate.
Too late, but then he had no idea what he would have done with it anyway.
Stan had wandered then, for hours and hours, before finally coming to rest in this bar.
It was a bar that he had been to a few times before so he felt relatively comfortable. Delanies, catered for the offices around about which as far as he could tell was mainly made up of solicitors, marketing agencies and tossers.
Still, since Stan worked in a marketing agency and had done for years he considered himself to be a tosser as well, and could toss off with the best of them.
When he felt like it
Which was not now.
Delanies had two main areas. the bar, and the tables. Most of the tables were taken up with braying, yipping crowds of young men, all trying to set themselves up as more alpha male than the next one.
The bar was long, and had rows of stools and at the moment was almost empty.
The were in fact only three people in the bar area, including Stan.
As usual they were spread almost equidistantly apart, with 8 or 9 seats separating them.
There was Stan, wearing a soggy black suit, shirt and black tie, drinking his way through as much Jim Bean as he could manage.
There was woman Stan reckoned to be in her mid thirties. She was wearing a blue business suit, short skirt and stockings. Stan noticed them specifically, seeing the line of the suspenders through her skirt, not tights.
She had long black hair was sexy as hell, and was drinking bottles of Budweiser straight from the bottle, one after another. She was either a high class hooker, a solicitor or a captain of industry it was impossible to tell. Either way she was so far out of Stan's league that he wasn't even playing in the same country.
And at the end of the bar was Samuel L Jackson. Not the actor, no, just a man who, to Stan's eyes looked exactly like him. In that he was a tall, well dressed, well built, black man with short hair and a slightly evil gleam in his eye. He was slowly drinking cranberry juice, which even to Stan in his befuddled state, was decidedly odd.
The three people ignored each other, no one broke the code of silence that enveloped them.
Then Stan, feeling more than a little drunk, and more than a little bored with his own company looked over at the woman and said, "Lady, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
The woman looked over at him and to his surprise smiled, she looked him up and down assessing him. She realised quickly that he was clearly not a threat, she was after all taller than him, and she suspected stronger, so
He looked, in short, like the sort of man that Stanley would hate on sight, the sort of man who was everything that Stan wasn't.
He could have been a former boyfriend, Susie had been very close mouthed about any earlier men in her life. If that was true then she had made a huge step change by going out with Stan, that was for sure.
If that was true then Stan had been punching massively above his weight.
The man stood up and strode, he didn't walk, he strode away from Susie's grave, towards the large metal gate and out of the graveyard.
He was quickly followed by another man, who Stan did not see until he moved out from the shadow of a tree. He was dressed in a grey raincoat, wearing a grey hat and dark sunglasses.
He looked like a cop.
In fact if you went to a fancy dress party as a cop, a private detective or FBI agent, then you would almost certainly have looked exactly like him.
Even down to the large, telephoto lens camera he had clutched in his right hand.
On impulse Stanley followed him, and just got to the gates in time to see him get into a dull grey Volvo estate and drive off. It wasn't until the car was out of sight that Stan remembered to look for the number plate.
Too late, but then he had no idea what he would have done with it anyway.
Stan had wandered then, for hours and hours, before finally coming to rest in this bar.
It was a bar that he had been to a few times before so he felt relatively comfortable. Delanies, catered for the offices around about which as far as he could tell was mainly made up of solicitors, marketing agencies and tossers.
Still, since Stan worked in a marketing agency and had done for years he considered himself to be a tosser as well, and could toss off with the best of them.
When he felt like it
Which was not now.
Delanies had two main areas. the bar, and the tables. Most of the tables were taken up with braying, yipping crowds of young men, all trying to set themselves up as more alpha male than the next one.
The bar was long, and had rows of stools and at the moment was almost empty.
The were in fact only three people in the bar area, including Stan.
As usual they were spread almost equidistantly apart, with 8 or 9 seats separating them.
There was Stan, wearing a soggy black suit, shirt and black tie, drinking his way through as much Jim Bean as he could manage.
There was woman Stan reckoned to be in her mid thirties. She was wearing a blue business suit, short skirt and stockings. Stan noticed them specifically, seeing the line of the suspenders through her skirt, not tights.
She had long black hair was sexy as hell, and was drinking bottles of Budweiser straight from the bottle, one after another. She was either a high class hooker, a solicitor or a captain of industry it was impossible to tell. Either way she was so far out of Stan's league that he wasn't even playing in the same country.
And at the end of the bar was Samuel L Jackson. Not the actor, no, just a man who, to Stan's eyes looked exactly like him. In that he was a tall, well dressed, well built, black man with short hair and a slightly evil gleam in his eye. He was slowly drinking cranberry juice, which even to Stan in his befuddled state, was decidedly odd.
The three people ignored each other, no one broke the code of silence that enveloped them.
Then Stan, feeling more than a little drunk, and more than a little bored with his own company looked over at the woman and said, "Lady, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
The woman looked over at him and to his surprise smiled, she looked him up and down assessing him. She realised quickly that he was clearly not a threat, she was after all taller than him, and she suspected stronger, so
Similar Books
