AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I have my own style.”
“Well, I have my own style, too.”
“Geek style.” She studied the slogan on his green T-shirt. all your base are belong to us. “What’s that about anyway?”
He rolled his eyes, as if she should know. “Zero Wing. A 1989 Japanese video game. It’s historic. Look it up.”
“Whatever.” She grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer. “Let’s go in the bathroom. I don’t want your hair all over the place.”
“If you want to cut hair so bad, cut your own.” He snorted and gestured toward her choppy bob. “No, wait. You already did that.”
She liked her hair, and she slammed the scissors on the counter. “You might as well forget about Becky. Or any other woman…because they won’t look at you twice.”
“Why should I take advice from somebody who doesn’t have a life?”
“You think I don’t have a life?”
“I haven’t seen any guys hanging around.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.” She didn’t tell him she couldn’t stand the idea of being with a man. It hadn’t always been that way. In high school, she’d had two serious boyfriends, and she’d had sex with one of them. He’d turned out to be a jerk, but she’d liked the sex. Not now, though.
Aaron was looking at her like he thought he was her shrink, and that made her so mad, she charged toward him. “Take off those stupid headphones. You look stupid.
”
“I’ll wait in my car.” He headed out her apartment door, then clomped down the stairs to the back entrance.
She rushed over and called down after him. “Fine! But I have potato chips and Mountain Dew!”
“Good for you.” The door slammed, and everything was quiet.
She went back to the couch and picked up the cookbook she’d been studying. She was glad he’d left. She hadn’t wanted him to stay anyway.
She reached for the notebook she kept on the end table so she could make a list of everything she needed to do before the party tomorrow. Screw him. Now her apartment was just the way she liked it. All hers.
But the notebook slipped from her fingers, and the cookbook dropped to the carpet. She began to cry.
All morning Bram couldn’t seem to keep his clothes on, and by lunchtime, Georgie wanted to hit him in his delectable bare chest. He was either wandering around the backyard in nothing but his swim trunks sipping from one of his bottomless tumblers of scotch or—and this was the kicker—climbing an extension ladder half naked to clean out some gutters he said were clogged, as if anyone in Hollywood cleaned out their own gutters.
He was punishing her for slipping out of bed to spend the rest of the night in her own room. Tough. Their relationship was about debauchery, not the intimacy of nighttime cuddling.
She tried to escape to the kitchen, but Chaz was a total pain, refusing help and ignoring all of Georgie’s suggestions. And Meg was no better. When she saw Georgie carrying around her video camera, she draped a scarf over her head and pretended to be one of Michael Jackson’s kids, which was funny but not exactly what Georgie had in mind to record. She finally shut herself in her room to reread Tree House and think about Helene.
In the afternoon she set the table. Despite the possibility of rain, they were eating on the veranda, which managed to stay dry during all but the biggest storms. She arranged a centerpiece of artichokes, lemons, and eucalyptus leaves in a blue pottery bowl. It was a little lopsided, but she liked the way it accented the bright yellow place mats and cobalt plates. Once she added a couple of chunky candles, it would be perfect.
She sensed Bram coming up behind her just before his hand curled around her bottom. “Why’s the table set for seven?”
“Seven?” The time had come to deliver the news, but she acted as though she’d never heard the number before. “Let’s see. You, me, Dad, RoryandTrev, Laura, Meg…Yes, that’s right.”
His hand, which had been exploring her bottom, came to a dead stop. “Did you say…Rory?”
“Uhm…”
“Rory Keene is coming to dinner tonight?”
“You never listen when I tell you things. I swear, my voice is just white noise to you. It’s like we’ve been married forever.”
“Rory?” He abandoned her bottom.
