Chapter Eighteen
Fin
‘I’ve got a job!’
Both Ivy and Natasha’s heads snap up from the page of a beauty trade magazine they’re examining.
‘What? When?’
‘Just now. I had a phone interview!’ I’d applied for the job in the local paper, and to my utter surprise, I’d been offered the job by the end of the call. ‘It’s only a temporary thing—sounds like I’ll mostly be hanging out, waiting for builders and such to call. It’ll probably only last a couple months.’
‘I thought Raya had something in line?’ Ivy’s tone is a sheepish admission that she and Raya are in contact still.
‘I called them, too. Seems they’re undergoing some kind of restructure this month, so they’re going to get back to me, but if an interview comes up in the meantime, of course I’m going to go.’ What I don’t say is I’m pleased this current job is one I’ve gotten on my own. I’m proud of that, though I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. It’s almost pathetic that I haven’t gotten a job since college by myself. ‘At least now I’ll have a bit of cash flow.’
‘So where is it?’ asks Nat.
‘Over at the big house. Seems it’s being turned into a hotel and there’s been some legal trouble over contracts. They’ve gotten rid of their current building firm, I think, and I’ll be there mainly to sort of facilitate a handover of sorts.’
‘Sounds... odd.’
‘It does, doesn’t it? But I’ve checked out the company and it’s totally legitimate. They’ve got other hotels all over the country.’
‘Well, I think this calls for a celebratory night out,’ says Natasha.
‘On a school night?’ Ivy’s brow creases as she pushes away the magazine.
‘Don’t tell me you were the stay in and study type? Surely we can go out for pizza on a weeknight? Maybe a few cocktails?’
Though I’m, again, surprised by the quality of the pizza joint; think minimalist decor and sympathetically lit rather than darkened booths and plastic table cloths. Oh, and the best prosecco I’ve tasted since... the last time I tasted prosecco.
We’re on dessert—espresso gelato all-round—when Natasha becomes super focused on her phone.
‘What you looking at?’ I ask.
‘A photo of my last boyfriend,’ she says with a wistful sigh. ‘In fact, the only photo I have of him.
‘I didn’t know you were recently in a relationship. How long were you together?’
‘Two weeks.’ She shrugs, her gaze falling to her phone again. ‘It’s not the length of a relationship that counts, though is it?’
‘Aw, honey. You miss him.’ I lean my slightly bubbles-buzzed body into hers, threading my arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. I also get an inadvertent look at her phone. ‘Why are you looking at a photo of a dick?’
‘They’re all dicks,’ chimes in Ivy. ‘Oh. What, you mean she’s looking at a dick pic? Natasha, that’s disgusting!’
‘What? I said I only had one photo of him—this is it,’ Natasha answers defensively.
‘You kept dick pics of your ex? An ex you went out with for only two weeks?’
‘And?’ she answers, like we’re the weird ones. ‘Like I said, it’s not the length of the relationship that counts. It’s the length in the relationship.’ She looks down again at the phone. ‘And you can’t argue thatthatisn’t some length.’
‘You’re such a weirdo,’ I say, but I think I must be, too, because my gaze falls to her phone again.Like a car crash. And regarding length, she’s not wrong.
‘I’m no’ unhappy with that description and I’m no’ unhappy with this shot.’ She holds the phone out, touching the screen so the image lights up again. And yep, I’m on my third look. ‘I think this caught his best side.
I can’t help but snigger as Nat begins humming a song I recognise as one of my mom’s favourites.If you leave me now,by Chicago. Moments later, Nat bursts into an adlibbing song,
‘If you leave me now... you’ll take away your biggest part from me...’
