CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Amir Halabi combed his dark frizzy hair over a small bald spot that he’d noticed and finally smoothed it down with Vaseline. He always carried a tube when he was paying for it; sometimes they even thanked him. Then he bared his tobacco stained teeth into the cracked mirror. He grinned again and pushed his long nose up to reduce the slight bump and to make it look less prominent. Amir liked to think they thought of him as handsome, even though deep down he knew they probably didn’t give a flying f**k, as long as they got their twenty-quid at the end of the shag.
Standing in the Wimbledon Station phone booth, Amir read the card again he’d been discretely given. For lessons in French, contact Roxanne on 01-946 0147 between 10:0 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. He was feeling excited. His
