It's Not Long Before I Just Have To Start...

It was Po who did most of the talking, pausing mostly just to light cigarettes and take swigs from the cans of lager, the fetching of which from the refrigerator in the kitchen were almost the only times she deserted the huge sofa that had somehow become hers. Karen's mother and father sat around politely, occasionally emptying the ashtray or flicking ash off the furniture where it settled, while Po talked and talked and talked.For Karen, it sounded very exciting indeed, though her parents were quite obviously appalled. Po had done everything, it seemed. She'd hung around with like real gangsters who'd fuck you up soon's they saw you. She'd done a stint of prostitution at King's Cross, till she figured that streetwalking was for mugs when all you needed to do was place a card in a phone booth. She'd done a bit of dealing, soft stuff mostly, but she'd graduated to H. Bit more lucrative, but not as much fun as selling E at night clubs. But lately, it had all got fucking out of hand.. She went with a former goalie for Tottenham; now he was in charge of scouting for new talent. He worked with all the coaches, and went to matches all over the continent.I went to a number of matches with them, sometimes with a date, sometimes without. He was a big bastard, with long arms and huge hands. Yeah, I flirted with Kayleigh — everyone called her Kay — but not too much. When I got to the London office for this trip Kay had parted ways with Owen (yeah, even Owen was caught in the arms of the mid-fielder from Ghana's wife), so we flirted with each other... all in good fun. I mentioned the St. Valentine's race 'cause I knew she was a serious runner too. She lived in High Wycombe and took the train in every day.It turned out, and I hadn't known this, that she had run in this race with Owen's younger brother, Ben, for the last four years. They had a special part of the race for couples. They would take the total time of the two runners in the pairing to determine the winner. Kay.
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