Saturday 13 February 2016

Ice/cubed.

He's all pewter-tipped white roses and incredulity today. All bemused smiles and french cuffs shot until I'm bleeding on the floor of the car for their charm, his thumb just under his chin, index finger over his lips as if he wants to hide that smile as he drives.

I'm disappointed that you were worried I would leave you for your lies of omission. About money? I knew damn well you kept all of it. How else did you buy that white-marble mausoleum except with more money, Cale?

Somehow I imagine few women would write someone off because they had more money instead of less. 


Oh, now, wait a minute-

Bridget, I'm merely toying with you now. I know you're not like that. Sometimes I wish you were, seeing as how you live when left to his devices.

I can be like that. It depends.

Yes, I saw that note. You need to pick a better team. 

I'll pay you back. 

Just so happens, I'm free this evening. 

I turn up the radio and sit back, leaning back against the headrest, closing my eyes and not answering him. We always get into massive amounts of trouble when Ben goes away. Why would tonight be any different? It seems as if Lochlan and Ben somehow temper each other perfectly and when one of them is missing it all goes to shit. Three is either my lucky number or my unlucky one, I never know which.