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The audience clapped. I disengaged from the twat, pleased with my success. The girlie looked up and started to thank me. Then disaster happened.
"Mum," I said in amazement, "I didn't know ... these bitches egged me on ... I wouldn't ... you know ... if I'd known it was you."
I dashed out of the room with the laughter of the four women ringing in my ears -- they knew all along -- and the others downstairs, including Geeta. The faint timbre of my mother's voice was lost in the noise as an argument broke out behind me.
Within seconds, I put on my trench coat and shoes. As I turned to leave, the black girlie thrust a business card in my hand.
"Give me a ring ... please."
I nodded and dashed out of the house, dreading the consequences.
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