ripe for the picking. ’
She sat back and stared at me.
‘What?’
‘I can’t believe you’ve never noticed.’
Was she accusing me of something? I had a sore mouth; three days to complete a job I couldn’t, in all probability, do with any degree of competency; and now my best friend seemed about to dump me.
‘Look, Lolly, I know I haven’t been there for you–‘
‘What are you talking about,’ she exclaimed. ‘For once, Scar, this is about me , not you . You see, I am in love.’
Ignoring the dig at my selfish behavior, I clapped my hands together like a toddler. ‘Brilliant, that’s great news! Who is he?’
Misery c louded her gorgeous face again.
‘ That’s the problem. It’s not a he, it’s a she.
A she?
‘ A she who is not interested in other shes. ’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tuesday, November 28
‘Life is fun. Get naked.’
Jocelyn Priestly
‘HOW DID THAT WRETCHED Jocelyn Priestly even get her name on a calendar , with advice like that ? ’
I was reading that day’s insightful sentence aloud at breakfast , anger at the woman’s ignorance building.
‘Is she the one who shows her snatch?’ asked Cecily 2.
I sighed. I didn’t know how much more of Cecily 2’s foul language or casual attitude to nakedness and sex I could take.
Last night she’d come home at twelve in the S&M outfit she wore for work. Poor Mrs Carlisle had seen her battling with the recalcitrant front door of the building and thought sh e was some sort of criminal (the old lady had actually mentioned the joker in Batman, which was, admittedly, hilarious), and called the cops.
They ’d almost arrested Cecily 2 for being lewd on the street, until she threatened to snog one of them in return for her freedom.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Officer One.
‘Just d on’t do it again,’ the second had instructed hurriedly, as they backed away.
‘Rude,’ Cecily 2 had remarked.
‘She’d know,’ Carson had whispered in my ear.
Burning toast brought me back to the present.
‘Oh, sodding heck, the toast,’ I cried. They were the last two slices.
‘The se are growing on me,’ Cecily 2 remarked to J, who had stumbled into the room still in his pa jamas .
As s he was still wearing her ‘costume’ I figured she must have slept in it. I wondered how she could breath e in the thing , let alone sleep.
There was the faint w hiff of BO in the air as Cecily poured cereal into her bowl with wild abandon.
‘What, the con-flakes?’ my son asked.
‘No,’ she said, looking at her reflection in the microwave. ‘T hese cold sores.’
Honestly.
Why couldn’t Cecily 2 take herself off to Manhattan and get lost for a couple of nights?
Or take herself off somewhere permanently.
Rufus and Howie wouldn’t mind. All evidence pointed to the fact that they wouldn’t even notice. Neither had called to check on her while she’d been in Brooklyn.
Which reminded me.
‘Carson?’
‘Yes?’
‘Why were you in m idtown, near Bloomingdales, yesterday afternoon?’
He was facing away from me but I could have sworn I saw his back stiffen .
‘I wasn’t.’
So what was that stiff back all about, then ?
‘ Someone saw you there, ’ I persisted.
‘Who?’
‘Just a friend, f rom my college days.’
Next it was his turn to look suspicious. ‘The more important question is, what were you doing there? Didn’t you have a shift at work?’
Let’s not go there.
‘I was with Lolly.’
‘Instead of at work?’
Having deftly t urned the conversation from his own indiscretions, Carson waited for me to respond. W hen I didn’t , he shook his slowly balding head tiredly and walked out of the room .
‘That’s right, just walk away in the middle of a conversat ion, ’ I called, unable to contain myself, despite the audience sitting at the table.
But Carson kept moving down the hall .
‘ Not getting’ any?’ Cecily 2 remarked slyly.
‘Gross,’ J said, pushing his chair back with a thud
She sat back and stared at me.
‘What?’
‘I can’t believe you’ve never noticed.’
Was she accusing me of something? I had a sore mouth; three days to complete a job I couldn’t, in all probability, do with any degree of competency; and now my best friend seemed about to dump me.
‘Look, Lolly, I know I haven’t been there for you–‘
‘What are you talking about,’ she exclaimed. ‘For once, Scar, this is about me , not you . You see, I am in love.’
Ignoring the dig at my selfish behavior, I clapped my hands together like a toddler. ‘Brilliant, that’s great news! Who is he?’
Misery c louded her gorgeous face again.
‘ That’s the problem. It’s not a he, it’s a she.
A she?
‘ A she who is not interested in other shes. ’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tuesday, November 28
‘Life is fun. Get naked.’
Jocelyn Priestly
‘HOW DID THAT WRETCHED Jocelyn Priestly even get her name on a calendar , with advice like that ? ’
I was reading that day’s insightful sentence aloud at breakfast , anger at the woman’s ignorance building.
‘Is she the one who shows her snatch?’ asked Cecily 2.
I sighed. I didn’t know how much more of Cecily 2’s foul language or casual attitude to nakedness and sex I could take.
Last night she’d come home at twelve in the S&M outfit she wore for work. Poor Mrs Carlisle had seen her battling with the recalcitrant front door of the building and thought sh e was some sort of criminal (the old lady had actually mentioned the joker in Batman, which was, admittedly, hilarious), and called the cops.
They ’d almost arrested Cecily 2 for being lewd on the street, until she threatened to snog one of them in return for her freedom.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Officer One.
‘Just d on’t do it again,’ the second had instructed hurriedly, as they backed away.
‘Rude,’ Cecily 2 had remarked.
‘She’d know,’ Carson had whispered in my ear.
Burning toast brought me back to the present.
‘Oh, sodding heck, the toast,’ I cried. They were the last two slices.
‘The se are growing on me,’ Cecily 2 remarked to J, who had stumbled into the room still in his pa jamas .
As s he was still wearing her ‘costume’ I figured she must have slept in it. I wondered how she could breath e in the thing , let alone sleep.
There was the faint w hiff of BO in the air as Cecily poured cereal into her bowl with wild abandon.
‘What, the con-flakes?’ my son asked.
‘No,’ she said, looking at her reflection in the microwave. ‘T hese cold sores.’
Honestly.
Why couldn’t Cecily 2 take herself off to Manhattan and get lost for a couple of nights?
Or take herself off somewhere permanently.
Rufus and Howie wouldn’t mind. All evidence pointed to the fact that they wouldn’t even notice. Neither had called to check on her while she’d been in Brooklyn.
Which reminded me.
‘Carson?’
‘Yes?’
‘Why were you in m idtown, near Bloomingdales, yesterday afternoon?’
He was facing away from me but I could have sworn I saw his back stiffen .
‘I wasn’t.’
So what was that stiff back all about, then ?
‘ Someone saw you there, ’ I persisted.
‘Who?’
‘Just a friend, f rom my college days.’
Next it was his turn to look suspicious. ‘The more important question is, what were you doing there? Didn’t you have a shift at work?’
Let’s not go there.
‘I was with Lolly.’
‘Instead of at work?’
Having deftly t urned the conversation from his own indiscretions, Carson waited for me to respond. W hen I didn’t , he shook his slowly balding head tiredly and walked out of the room .
‘That’s right, just walk away in the middle of a conversat ion, ’ I called, unable to contain myself, despite the audience sitting at the table.
But Carson kept moving down the hall .
‘ Not getting’ any?’ Cecily 2 remarked slyly.
‘Gross,’ J said, pushing his chair back with a thud
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