His expression was like that of a confused little boy, but he didn’t pull it off. Buster was another friend who ran the café in Howling.
“You done?”
“I’m not coming with you on the Texan’s jet, Newman. If I want to come home, I’ll do it in my own time.”
“Actually, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
She followed him from the room, and down through reception. She handed the girl, who was still on her phone, the keys.
“You paid?”
“I have.”
The girl then waved Hope away, and started talking into her phone again.
“That’s called service with an FU,” Newman said, waving down another cab when they reached the street outside. He bundled Hope in, and followed.
I really need to stop this from happening, Hope thought, but wasn’t entirely sure how, or why she wasn’t fighting harder to do just that.
CHAPTER SIX
“Ican’t believe someone could justify owning something like this. I mean, it has enough food stocked in that fridge to last me over a month. Seriously, Newman, you have to see this.”
“I’ve been in one of these before with Tex.”
Newman was lounging in a seat that allowed him to be horizontal. He cracked open his good eye and watched Hope investigate the interior of Tex’s uncle’s jet. She was opening cupboards and poking about on shelves like a kid in a candy store.
“This extravagance should really shock and horrify me.”
“But it doesn’t because secretly you’re impressed.”
She bent and he studied the line of her legs, and her butt.
“I’m not impressed. What impresses me is people who have small carbon footprints, and know how to minimize their waste.”
“I’m sure there’s a recycling bin in here somewhere.”
She ignored him and continued to look around. Opening the fridge again, she pulled out a bottle of water and held it up for him to inspect.
“Got any soda in there?”
“Water is better for you.” She lobbed it at him.
“You must be hell to date.”
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
“Sure you have, they’re just too scared to voice them loud enough, in case you stomp all over them in your shitkickers.”
She uncapped her water and drank deep.
“How’s the hangover?”
“Better. How’s the eye?”
“Aches like a bitch.”
