Hudson’s head jerks toward us. “Did you just ask my sister to have sex with you?”
I clear my throat. “No. Not that I wouldn’t have sex with her—I’ve rather enjoyed the time I’ve spent with her so far—but I’d keep that proposition more private. I know how prudish you Americans can be.”
The two siblings share a look.
Bea’s is exasperated. Hudson’s holds a scowl.
She turns back to me. “That’s very kind of you to let me use you.”
My smile broadens. “Fantastic. So glad we aired that out. I’ll prepare to be as charming as ever, and I’ll leave the gossips and busybodies so convinced that you’re the catch of the century that your burger bus won’t be without customers for the rest of the summer.”
She gapes at me.
“Thatwouldachieve your goals, would it not?” I ask.
“Yes, but—you’re happy about being used. Who’s happy about being used?”
“The gods have blessed me with success, Ms. Best. It gives me pleasure to use it for good.”
“Are you for real?”
“I assume so. I’ve never contemplated the philosophy of realness, so I suppose it’s possible I’m not.”
“Why do you smile so much?”
“I quite enjoy it. Don’t you?”
“Notthatmuch. And Peter Jones?—”
“Such a cunt, isn’t he? And not the good kind of cunt. Not like a mate-cunt. Like a twat-cunt.” Americans always need that explanation too.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“Do you have the budget for a new dress? If you’re going to make a splash, let’s make a splash.”
“Am I being punked?”
“I only punk my children, but more often myself.”
It’s the entire truth.
But thankfully, in this case, I’m going in with my eyes wide open.
No punking here.
All will be well, and Bea and I will be cosmically even.
Her publicity, my inspiration, and my conscience will be at peace.
5
DO GO ON WITH THE GOSSIP
Simon
When Lana arrivesto visit with the boys early Wednesday evening, I’m battling a case of an overactive conscience.
Not because I’ve allowed the boys to climb the trees in the sprawling back garden of this estate, but because of the notes I’ve been scribbling all afternoon.
