Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Robert looks to Gary. “Have fun with the fake tits. I was the one who paid for them, by the way. She’d be as flat as a ten-year-old boy if I hadn’t.”
At this Kara finally gets annoyed, a harsh scowl slanting across her mouth. She doesn’t mind Robert telling everyone she likes to have sex in public, but reveal her secret boob job to the world and the claws come out.
She grabs the glass of wine from Sandra’s hand and flings it at Robert. He sidesteps out of the way, but some of the liquid still gets on him just before the glass smashes to the floor. He stares at Kara with venom.
Sasha puts her hand on my shoulder. “I guess that’s my cue to intervene,” she says, before going to stand between Kara and her brother.
“Okay, you two need to stop this now. Jesus, the fighting got old, like, six months ago. You don’t work together, so just cut your losses and move on. For fuck’s sake, it’s a Saturday night and we’re all just trying to have a relaxing drink. Kara, you’re welcome to stay so long as you can keep things respectful. And Rob, if you think you want to say something to Kara, maybe just hold your tongue, because the chances are it’s only going to start another argument.”
Kara gives her a reluctant nod and Robert shakes his head, exasperated.
“This is bollocks,” he says, before bending over to collect the bits of broken glass from the floor. Once he has all of it gathered, he storms out of the room, leaving everyone feeling a little awkward.
“Let’s say we open up another bottle of wine, eh, Sash?” Alistair suggests cheerfully, before going to grab said bottle. When he returns the conversation picks up again, and the previous argument is forgotten – just about.
Sasha and I are sitting on the couch, and I’m still slowly working my way through the one glass of alcohol I’ve allowed myself tonight, when Kara comes to join us. She sits down on the other side of Sasha, smoothing her short black dress out over her slim thighs.
“I’m so sorry about all that before,” says Kara, placing a hand on Sasha’s forearm. “I hope that you and I can continue to be friends, even if Rob and I have parted ways.”
Sasha gives her an uncertain look. From what I’ve gathered, these two have never really been what you’d call proper “friends”; they more tolerate each other for the sake of the group.
“Of course we can,” Sasha replies finally, casting me a what the fuck? glance. I stifle my giggle and take a sip of wine.
Kara lets out a relieved breath and gives Sasha a little hug around the shoulders. “Thank you. That means a lot to me,” she says sincerely in her distinctive upper-class London accent.
Then, unexpectedly, she turns to me. She studies me a moment, taking me in. I can’t tell whether or not she approves of what she sees, but I guess you can never tell with women like this. They’re too well-trained to appear polite and urbane. Although saying that, she wasn’t so urbane when she was throwing a glass aimed at Robert’s head.
“So you’re Lana,” she says with a calculating smile. “Rob has talked about you quite a bit.”
I force a laugh. “Well, don’t believe everything he tells you.”
Her brow furrows, her attention zoning in on me. “Why not?”
Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable under her stare. “He’s just never been my biggest fan, that’s all,” I mutter.
She smirks. “That’s not the impression I got. Rob’s always had a weakness for pretty girls. Why should you be an exception?”
Despite the compliment, her words come out cutting. “The last time he saw me properly I was sixteen, and I looked a lot different back then.”
“Oh, you didn’t look that different,” Sasha chides me.
I laugh. “You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep up the modesty. You know you’re a stunner,” she says.
Kara sips on her drink and crosses one tanned leg over the other.
We’re interrupted when Gary appears in front of us. “Babe, have you got the car keys? I want to go grab that six-pack of beer out of the boot.”
Kara gets up and gives him a peck on the lips. “Of course, hon. Here you go.” She rummages the keys out of her handbag and hands them to him.
I take the break in conversation to pop to the toilet upstairs. I’ve barely gotten through half the glass of wine, and already I’m feeling a little tipsy.
When I push open the bathroom door I immediately draw back, because Robert’s standing by the mirror, topless, and trying to get to grips with a packet of bandages.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here,” I apologise, and turn to leave, trying not to stare at his tanned muscles.
He doesn’t seem at all embarrassed, but simply glances up at me briefly, asking, “Can you get this packet open? I can’t…” He trails off, gesturing in frustration at the blood in the sink.
That’s when I notice he’s got a cut on his hand from picking up the broken glass in the living room.
“Ouch,” I breathe, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. I take the packet from him and open it. “Here, sit down on the edge of the tub and I’ll fix you up. You’re bleeding badly.”
The sight of blood doesn’t bother me. I’m used to seeing my own on a daily basis when I have to check my sugar levels. I wet some cotton wool to clean the cut and then sit down beside him. It feels strange taking Robert’s hand into my own, feeling our skin touch, caring for him. There’s never really been any kind of warmth between us. He sucks in a breath when I begin dabbing at the cut. It’s long but it isn’t deep, so there’s no need for him to go to the hospital.
“I spoke a little to Kara downstairs,” I say as I continue to clean his hand, dipping the cotton wool into some antiseptic now.