My reading

Chapter One The big man at the end of the bar is sweating, He holds his head low over his double Scotch, but every few minutes he glances up and out, behind him, towards the door. A fine sheen of perspiration glistens under the strip-lights. He lets out a long, shaky breath, disguised as a sigh, and turns back to his drink. ‘Hey. Excuse me?’ I look up from polishing glasses. ‘Can I get another one here?’  I want to tell him it's really not a good idea, that it won't help. That it might even put him over the limit. But he's a big guy and it's fifteen minutes till closing time and, according to company guidelines, I have no reason to tell him no, so I walk over, take his glass and hold it up to the optic. He nods at the bottle. Double, he says, and slides a fat hand down his damp face. ‘That'll be seven pounds twenty, please.’ It's a quarter to eleven on a Tuesday night and the Shamrock and Clover, East City Airport's Irish-themed pub, which