The Lawyer promises to make up for missing last weekend with a whirlwind evening before he flies out to Estonia for the weekend.
Wisely, he does not offer to take me to Estonia. As soon as I arrived in a country of dead-eyed killers, I'd be off.
Instead he promises a great evening. Which he doesn't turn up for. Curiously, I am rather relieved about this. I am, at the time, trying to finish the book. As far as anything else is concerned, if it ain't booze, fags or Battlestar, I'm not interested. And, weirdly, this goes for emotionally complicated stuff which requires sorting out with time-consuming conversations. So I don't bother phoning him. Instead I get very drunk and imagine that the President goes to a hairdresser's called Barbershop Galactifringe.
At midnight, he texts: "Long day, sorry. Make it up to you."
I do not reply.
At 12:03 am, he texts: "Hello?"
The next day, I kill him off in my book.