Chapters (115)
- COLD AS HELL
- PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
- CONTENTS
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
- COPYRIGHT
‘These are the documents I emailed to you,’ he said. ‘This is where you sign to give me authority to negotiate on your behalf. And this is where you agree to the payment schedule. And this is where you sign to agree my fee. As you can see, it’s a big one, but 204you screwed up my weekend, and this is all happening so fast that my head’s in a whirl.’
Áróra signed where he directed, and Michael returned the paperwork to his briefcase. They got out of the car, and she led the way back inside the terminal. As Michael stepped onto the escalator that would whisk him back upstairs, she quickly planted a kiss on his cheek.
‘Michael,’ she called after him. ‘I’ll be in touch soon. I’ll take you out to dinner.’
He turned around and looked at her.
‘I know you won’t,’ he called down to her, so loudly that his voice echoed against the glass. ‘I know you’re only using me,’ he added, sounding sorrowful.
Áróra laughed, but felt a touch of embarrassment as the curious eyes of travellers turned towards her.
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86
Grímur checked that Björn and the girlfriend, Kristín, were at the table with menus in their hands before he walked away and headed for the hot-dog stand. He asked for two with all the trimmings, and sat on one of the two wooden benches next to a couple of Japanese tourists, washing the hot dogs down with a carton of chocolate milk. The milk cut the bitterness of the onions that he felt were an essential element of a proper hot dog, regardless of any subsequent bad breath.
His usual Friday-night hot dogs, eaten this time on a Sunday, triggered childhood memories, and his mother’s voice and her hoarse laughter as she tickled him echoed in his mind. They had always been so happy to treat themselves to a hot dog, at this very same hot-dog stand, before going to see a film on their monthly day out. Normally the cinema of choice was Gamla Bío, or Nýja Bío, as they didn’t need to catch a bus and could walk there from the hot-dog stand, and Grímur was in no doubt that these days out had been the best days of each month for them both.
The sudden thought of what his mother would say about his plans cast a shadow over his happy memories, and he quickly stood up; too quickly, as the Japanese couple with their half-eaten hot dogs were startled. He apologised for alarming them and hurried away.