The Last Word. A. Michael L.
Читать онлайн книгу.
call me a stuck-up prick or a self-invested arsehole, or whatever it was that you called your editor in that article.’
Tabby smiled innocently. ‘I have no idea what you mean, Harry. I’m a professional. It was just an article.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He rolled his eyes, and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Her chest tightened briefly, and then he was back in his space, far away from her. ‘Speaking of people who want to argue, I seem to have angered another violent woman.’
‘Your calling in life, it seems.’ Chandra smirked as Harry shrugged.
‘Wish me luck,’ he said, before walking over to a delicate doll of a girl: tall, thin, with long blonde hair pulled messily into a plait. She was wearing a strapless silver bodycon dress that clung to her non-existent curves, and just looking at her skyscraper heels made Tabby feel dizzy. She looked down at her own shoes: purple felt, stack heels, with bunny rabbit buttons. OK, well she wasn’t his type, clearly. Like that mattered anyway, she wasn’t going to do anything. Just because someone gives you a much deserved compliment, doesn’t mean you suddenly forget they’re an arrogant twat.
As much as Tabby wanted to hate the girl on the dance floor, for being able to wear those shoes and that dress, and pull of the chic party-girl look, she almost had to pity her. She was staring uncertainly into Harry’s eyes as he convinced her she was the most important person in the world. And he was damn good at it, Tabby had to admit. She watched the girl go from sullen, to unsure, to begrudgingly amused. By the end of whatever speech he’d given her, she was looking at him like he was the answer to her prayers. Which, Tabby was pretty sure, he certainly was not.
‘So – ’ Tabby turned to Chandra, who simply held up a finger.
‘You know the rule, Tabs.’
Chandra’s Thirty Second Rule: After an important encounter with a member of the opposite sex (or in Rhi’s case, a member of either sex) you had to wait thirty seconds before discussing it. Chandra said this was to allow information to properly sink in, so you could discuss things with a clear head. Tabby only adhered because it meant the person they were discussing was usually across the room by that point, and wouldn’t accidentally overhear.
‘It wasn’t an encounter!’ Tabby whined. ‘He’s my boss!’
‘Mmf!’ Chandra held her hand up yet again. ‘Twenty-seven, twenty-eight…’
Tabby huffed and crossed her arms, purposefully not looking at the dance floor, where she was sure Harry was using his other skills to convince the girl of how important she was.
‘Thirty!’ Chandra paused. ‘EEEEEEP! So cute! Why haven’t you bonked his brains out yet?’
‘Ew, Chands, don’t say bonked.’ Tabby felt her stomach twitch, and gestured towards the dance floor. ‘And because, clearly, she is.’
‘Yeah, for tonight. What about tomorrow?’
‘I cannot casually sleep with my editor!’
‘Because…?’
Because been there, done that, and it almost ruined my life? Tabby grasped around for an answer that wasn’t pathetic and grounded in self-doubt.
‘Because it’s unprofessional, I’m there to write.’
‘So write after a night of head-banging sex with a guy who looks like he knows what to do. Jeez. I’ve never met anyone so resistant to an orgasm.’
‘Mean!’ Tabby looked around at the surrounding tables, hoping no one had heard. Conversations with Chandra concerning sex always seemed to be louder than any other conversation she took part in.
‘Well, when was the last time you had sex?’ Chandra asked simply, eating the cherry from her cocktail.
‘You know when. You made me discuss it in painful detail the morning after.’
Chandra’s eyebrows disappeared under her fringe. ‘The clammy hands guy? That was ages ago! Like a year or more.’
‘Well, it put me off for life, OK?’ Tabby knew she was getting defensive, but all this talk was making her crabby. Even if she liked him, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t do anything about it. ‘Look, I’m not sleeping with him I’m not doing anything with him except writing a bunch of articles. And even that is under duress. I’m just not interested in him.’
Chandra’s eyes moved past her to the dance floor, and of course, she couldn’t help but look. Harry had his arms around the doll-like girl, but looked across at Tabby, stuck his tongue out and winked.
‘Fifty quid says you don’t last a month.’ Chandra grinned.
‘Bad odds.’ Tabby sighed, breaking eye contact, and finishing the rest of her drink in one gulp.
Tabby was going to kill Chandra. Because, of course, once she’d put the damn thought into her head, it was impossible to get it out: she could not stop thinking about Harry. She could also not stop thinking about how long it had been since she’d had sex, and how Chandra thought she was opposed to orgasms. She wasn’t. She just…wasn’t attracted easily. Or wasn’t hanging out in the right places. But then, obviously, when she did find someone attractive, they haunted her.
Which was why Tabby was running. Then baking, then shopping. When Rhi came home from a half day at the library, she found Tabby with her head in the oven.
‘Pulling a Sylvia Plath?’
‘You know we’ve never cleaned this properly? We’ve lived here for over two years! It’s ridiculous!’ Tabby’s manic voice was muffled from inside the oven, her yellow-gloved hands working desperately.
‘Tabs, you’re high off the fumes, get out of there.’ Rhi waited until she could see her housemate, covered in dirt, her dark hair covered with a bandana. ‘Don’t you have a meeting with your editor today?’
‘Yep.’ Tabby’s face fell. ‘I feel like I’m going to the dentist.’
‘I thought he liked your last article?’
‘That’s the problem. He’s being nice to me. And when he’s being nice to me, I forget he’s a dangerously charming arse who is there to make money, and I start to…like him.’
Rhi took a deep breath, and seemed to be accumulating the energy to deal with this. ‘Do you think you have a thing for men in positions of power over you? Because I’ve got this really good book on dominants and submissives – ’
‘No! I mean, not really. He just…I don’t know what he’s going to do. I keep thinking I have him figured out and then he surprises me. It’s Chandra’s fault. She put the sex thing in my head.’ Tabby pulled off the marigolds and surveyed her nails.
‘Which is where it’s going to stay. In your head,’ Rhi said firmly. ‘You’ve done the editor thing before, remember? Doesn’t end well.’ Rhi cast a disapproving eye over Tabby’s dishevelled appearance. ‘Now, seriously, will you go shower and get ready for this meeting? If you fancy him, you might as well look fabulous, right?’
Tabby grinned, and kissed Rhi’s cheek on the way out. ‘You said fabulous.’
‘What’s wrong with that? Gay men don’t own the word!’ Rhi shouted as Tabby raced up the stairs.
She was going to be fine. Really. So, OK, thinking about Harry that way was kind of awkward, but she’d convinced herself out of bigger things in the past. Convincing your drunk self that your future self would really regret ordering a cheese feast pizza at four in the morning had to be a meaner feat and she’d done that occasionally. Much more difficult than telling herself that Harry was not only not that interesting or even nice, but that even if he was interested in her, she wouldn’t want him. Easy. Done.
And