CHAPTER SEVEN
Justin had always found politics a bit of a downer.
It just didn’t matter to him because, although he wouldn’t consider himself rich, he was certainly comfortable. His grandfather had invented a widget that was copyrighted and is used on every single diving mask in the world. Justin didn’t need to work. He was supposed to put in the hours at the office, but he rarely bothered.
The staff had it all under control. They didn’t need him hanging around.
If ever his bank balance needed extra topping up, he simply asked his parents. They knew he would never repay a penny, but he was their only son. All parties concerned went through a charade purely to avoid potential embarrassment.
“I need some money to take a girl out, Dad. I’ll pay you back next week.”
“Here, son, take her
