Read Online Unbound (The Braille Club #2) by J. A. Kerr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. A. Kerr
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her goodbyes but he didn’t want to hang around any longer and slipped on his jacket. When he turned round she was there.
“So were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
He turned towards this new Esme, suddenly furious. “Show’s not over yet, Esme, don’t let me keep you,” he spat.
She recoiled from his anger, her face clouding. “Don’t be silly, Ford. I want to say goodbye properly.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. This time it was Ford that shoved her away roughly, eyes blazing as he turned and stalked out. It was only later in the taxi that he put his head in his hands. He didn’t need her or her friendship, but with the feel of her lips still fresh on his, he was beginning to regret leaving. He wasn’t angry she kissed him; he was angry she’d not responded when he kissed her back. Like all unrequited love it was intense and full of despair. Ford understood he was no looker; his growing pubescent body was thin as a rail. His mates teased him, saying, “We’ve seen more meat on a butcher’s pencil.” His thick red hair, which he despised, had a habit of standing on end in all directions, so he wore it in a buzz cut, which made him look hard and aggressive. Acne scars covered his face, and he was prone to flare ups. The smeared, cheap glasses he wore because he kept breaking them hid his dark brown eyes. By contrast, Esme was beautiful, and she’d made her feelings towards him clear. She’d given him a kiss, intending to make him feel better but instead made things worse.
Ford’s face felt hot. His memories of Esme were always painful, and it did not improve his mood. She’d hurt him, one of the few people who had, and it still stung. People found out quickly if you pushed against Crawford Monroe he not only pushed back, but hurt you in the process, and not just theoretically either. It was why he had gotten expelled. He would not be pushed around. Not by his parents, not by school bullies calling him ‘ginger’ and ‘specky,’ not by anyone.
He worked hard and played harder. Based in Holland, his speciality was oil and gas. He was just as surprised as anyone to discover he was a natural linguist. It would become an invaluable asset to him. He travelled around the globe, going where the next emergency took him. His consultancy fees were colossal, but desperate companies would pay him anything he demanded to fix the mechanical breakdowns that restored their oil or gas supply.
He worked for all the major players performing his engineering miracles. His stillness calmed those around him. People often made bad decisions while under pressure but Ford was not among them. His silence was an unusual skill that enabled him to listen and assess. This lack of reaction unnerved most of the companies he worked with. They assumed he had somehow misinterpreted the sense of urgency they required, but his solutions were always deadly accurate. He was a lethal weapon and his company CEM Engineering was at the forefront of emerging concepts.
He picked up the phone to call this Guy Walker. If he was in London working, he could be home in an hour. Nothing made him smile like home. He loved his city—it was vibrant and fast paced, with that ever present hint of danger that made every native give Mother Glasgow the respect she deserved. She took no prisoners, but her warmth and humour was world renowned and it’s what he craved most after long periods away.
He looked at his mobile, the one word text from his friend Mikey direct and to the point.
Boozer?
His friends met every Friday night in the West End of Glasgow at 5:30. The numbers ebbed and flowed, but there was always a hardcore group of around four to five. He received the same text from Mikey every week at 5:00. No matter where he was in the world, it arrived without fail and every time he would experience a sharp stab of homesickness.
He didn’t miss his parents or his brother, although he loved them, or his childhood
“So were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
He turned towards this new Esme, suddenly furious. “Show’s not over yet, Esme, don’t let me keep you,” he spat.
She recoiled from his anger, her face clouding. “Don’t be silly, Ford. I want to say goodbye properly.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. This time it was Ford that shoved her away roughly, eyes blazing as he turned and stalked out. It was only later in the taxi that he put his head in his hands. He didn’t need her or her friendship, but with the feel of her lips still fresh on his, he was beginning to regret leaving. He wasn’t angry she kissed him; he was angry she’d not responded when he kissed her back. Like all unrequited love it was intense and full of despair. Ford understood he was no looker; his growing pubescent body was thin as a rail. His mates teased him, saying, “We’ve seen more meat on a butcher’s pencil.” His thick red hair, which he despised, had a habit of standing on end in all directions, so he wore it in a buzz cut, which made him look hard and aggressive. Acne scars covered his face, and he was prone to flare ups. The smeared, cheap glasses he wore because he kept breaking them hid his dark brown eyes. By contrast, Esme was beautiful, and she’d made her feelings towards him clear. She’d given him a kiss, intending to make him feel better but instead made things worse.
Ford’s face felt hot. His memories of Esme were always painful, and it did not improve his mood. She’d hurt him, one of the few people who had, and it still stung. People found out quickly if you pushed against Crawford Monroe he not only pushed back, but hurt you in the process, and not just theoretically either. It was why he had gotten expelled. He would not be pushed around. Not by his parents, not by school bullies calling him ‘ginger’ and ‘specky,’ not by anyone.
He worked hard and played harder. Based in Holland, his speciality was oil and gas. He was just as surprised as anyone to discover he was a natural linguist. It would become an invaluable asset to him. He travelled around the globe, going where the next emergency took him. His consultancy fees were colossal, but desperate companies would pay him anything he demanded to fix the mechanical breakdowns that restored their oil or gas supply.
He worked for all the major players performing his engineering miracles. His stillness calmed those around him. People often made bad decisions while under pressure but Ford was not among them. His silence was an unusual skill that enabled him to listen and assess. This lack of reaction unnerved most of the companies he worked with. They assumed he had somehow misinterpreted the sense of urgency they required, but his solutions were always deadly accurate. He was a lethal weapon and his company CEM Engineering was at the forefront of emerging concepts.
He picked up the phone to call this Guy Walker. If he was in London working, he could be home in an hour. Nothing made him smile like home. He loved his city—it was vibrant and fast paced, with that ever present hint of danger that made every native give Mother Glasgow the respect she deserved. She took no prisoners, but her warmth and humour was world renowned and it’s what he craved most after long periods away.
He looked at his mobile, the one word text from his friend Mikey direct and to the point.
Boozer?
His friends met every Friday night in the West End of Glasgow at 5:30. The numbers ebbed and flowed, but there was always a hardcore group of around four to five. He received the same text from Mikey every week at 5:00. No matter where he was in the world, it arrived without fail and every time he would experience a sharp stab of homesickness.
He didn’t miss his parents or his brother, although he loved them, or his childhood
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