Page 12 of Mercury Rising

“I expect you to be here from nine until five as a minimum. Feel free to drift in and out in the same way.”

Mercury glanced at him. The glint in Nick’s eye seemed to be a permanent resident. Mercury liked it very much.

“Sadly, I’m on a curfew.”

He lifted his jeans to show the electronic tag that already annoyed the crap out of him. He wished he could trade another month at Bodhi House instead of having to have that monstrosity strapped to his ankle.

“Oh, they are a pain in the arse,” Nick said. “You have my sympathy.”

Mercury was taken aback for a second and it must have shown on his face.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“That’s the first time someone hasn’t judged me.”

Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “There are people far better educated than me to pass judgement. We don’t do that here. Well, not about your past anyway.”

“Oh, yes? What am I going to be judged on?”

“Your ability to make tea,” Nick said.

He handed Mercury a mug that had seen better days. It had a faded picture of the Spice Girls on it. Mercury took it and regarded it with amusement.

“You’re a Spice Girls fan?”

Nick shrugged. “So, sue me. Mine’s with milk and one sugar. The kettle’s over there. Meet me in the office next door when you’re done.”

“Roger that.”

Mercury watched him go. Nick’s jeans clung to his arse like a second skin. And what an arse it appeared to be.

Stop thinking like that. You’re here to do a job. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still. It didn’t hurt to look.

Mercury placed the mug down on Nick’s desk. He’d struggled to find a space amongst the papers, magazines, brochures and used cereal bowls, plates and glasses. It appeared Mr Nick Campbell spent a lot of time in this room.

Nick’s desk sat in the bay window and another smaller desk stood at a right angle to it. On that desk was a very old desktop computer and a worryingly large pile of A4 notebooks.

Peering into the mug, Nick looked up at Mercury.

“And this is tea?”

“Of course it’s tea,” Mercury replied.

Nick exhaled and took hold of the mug. “I suppose the proof is in the pudding.”

He blew on the steaming liquid and took a sip. “Oh, wow,” he said, putting the mug down and grimacing. “At least we’ll be sending you away with one skill.”

Mercury was a bit put out. “I did my best.”

“I’m only teasing. It’s fine. Honestly.”

“Fine is not a word to aim for.”

With his foot, Nick pulled out the chair at the spare desk. “Take a seat, Mercury, and we’ll have a chat about what I need from you. Other than a decent cup of tea. The Spice Girls deserve better.”

Mercury sat. Every fibre of his being wanted to defend himself. Nick might very well be testing him. He would pass that test.