‘Come on, you must remember. How many men have you had drink tequila out of your—’ Ivy opens her mouth to interrupt right as Nat finishes her sentence with one less than delightful word—‘Snatch.’
‘What?’ This comes out wobbly and I think my eyes are probably hanging out of my head. ‘Why have I, your oldest friend, never heard this tale? And more to the point, how is it even possible? Something tantric? A craftily inserted glass while standing on your head?’
‘Nah, I’m only kidding,’ replies a laughing Natasha. ‘It was a shot glass propped in your cleavage wasn’t it?’
‘A party game,’ mumbles Ivy.
‘I rule,’ says a gleeful Natasha. ‘My girlies had so much fun! I got one drunk and flirty and sorted the other a shag with a hot stud!’ She holds out her hand for a high-five and as I barely slide my own against hers, I voice a sudden, yet ridiculous thought.
‘You didn’t pay him, did you?’ Please God, don’t let him be an escort. Please, please don’t let Rory be my birthday or cheer-up gift. Please, please, please let the nice wet man and my virginity taker be anything other than a sex worker on a busman’s holiday.
‘Pay him? You mean, like a prostitute?’That sounds so much worse, I think, even as I nod my head. ‘What do you take me for? So I’m a pimp now? I thought I was just the lowly ho’.’
‘No one’s saying you’re a—you’re easy,’ I return quickly.
‘I’m easy under the right man, am I no?’ As far as questions go, this one is difficult to deconstruct on a night of little sleep and a morning of no caffeine. ‘If we’re truthful, we all are.’
‘You didn’t though, did you?’ I interrupt a little desperately. He was certainly hot enough to be on some high end escort’s books. And the more I think about the possibility, the more I feel ill.
‘Hang on a minute,’ she says, slipping her hand under her left butt cheek, sliding it out immediately, palm up. ‘Nope,’ she says, staring down at it. ‘I still can’t fart pound notes. Do I look made of money?’ she asks, her tone rising with incredulity. ‘How would I be able to affordhishourly rate? I took a pay cut to come here, you know.’
‘We know,’ says a placating Ivy as she struggles to sit while holding her hands to either side of her head. ‘And I appreciate it, but with the way things are going I’ll be able to pay you better really soon.’
‘And if I was buying anyone a shag with the brother of Adonis, it would’na be for either of you. I mean, we’re pals and all, but...’
‘Yeah, okay. Point taken.’ I’m not sure if I’m feeling embarrassed for being so ridiculous or for being chastised.
‘So...’ Nat says suddenly, gripping the arms of the chair as she stands. ‘I think I’ll pop the kettle on. Tea? Coffee? A dish of hot water to soak your poor vagina in?’
‘Coffee for me.’ I ignore the rest. ‘I’ll help,’ I begin to say when she holds out her hand.
‘Nope.’ Her tone is heavy with meaning. ‘Stay where you are.’
The air feels awkward with just Ivy and me, and I know I’m in for more of herreckless Finlectures when she surprises me.
‘Sorry about yesterday.’
I shrug, not able to find a response. I’m stunned, quite frankly.
‘I don’t mean I’m sorry about what happened—to you, I mean, ‘cos I am. I could kill him myself.’
‘If he weren’t already dead?’
‘Yeah, that,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry about my behaviour last night.’
Still speechless, not to mention suspicious, I decide not to say anything at all.No comment is neither confirmation nor denial of any wrongdoing at all.
‘I realise this is your life and you know best what you need.’
W-O-W. Maybe I need my ears tested.
‘Aren’t you going to say something?’
‘Are you still drunk?’ This has to be why she’s saying these things.
‘She isn’t!’ Calls a voice from the kitchen. ‘She puked most of the booze back up.’
‘I don’t know what I was thinking,’ Ivy mumbles. I’m not sure if she means drinking to excess or her reaction as she begins pulling on the tassels of the crocheted throw covering her legs. ‘We... we’ve spent most of the night talking, Nat and me. She’s a good listener. That’s not to say, you aren’t, too,’ she adds quickly. ‘But you’ve been neck deep in your own troubles.’
