Jason Paxman clutched the copy of The Daily Mail in both hands, his fingers gradually tightening in anger until the pages began to crease.
“This is not a library,” the voice of the shop assistant said in a heavy Indian accent. “If you want to read it, you buy it.”
Jason ignored him. The image of the guy who’d broken his nose was staring back at him from the front page. Beneath the white strapping holding it back in place, the sight of him made his busted nose throb. Just to the side of him was Tara, the f*****g b***h, and another guy who over the last few days he’d seen on the show she’d been involved with. It had aired whilst he’d been locked up in The Verne, but catchup TV had allowed him to watch the entire run of shows in one long marathon. It was utter shite but he’d watched it none
