Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I listen to that first.
“Hey, sorry if I’m flat-out harassing you at this point, I’m just having trouble sleeping and wondering if you’re okay. Hope Naomi is okay too. Okay, sweet girl, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Oh yeah, call me when you get this.”
I don’t think Laz has ever left me a voice mail before. I’m beyond touched.
He called you sweet girl again, I think to myself, grabbing onto that phrase like it’s something I can touch, holding it close to my heart.
I’m in over my head here.
I should probably head home and have a good think about this before I call him back, get my priorities straight, figure out what’s going on between us. Are we still friends? Are we dating now? Are we still learning from each other or has this whole experiment morphed into something else entirely?
I don’t have any of the answers. Funnily enough, I don’t think Laz has the answers either. We’re both in this together, completely clueless.
As soon as I’m parked in the driveway and wave hello to Barbara peering through the blinds, I walk to the backyard to check on the girls and call Laz.
My heart is beating hard and fast, the blood whooshing loudly in my head.
I’m actually giddy just placing a simple phone call to one of my friends.
What is happening?
“Allo?” Laz says, his rich accent coming through and immediately putting me at ease. “You called.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever spoken on the phone before,” I say and my voice sounds foreign, high-pitched, like it belongs to someone else.
“No, we haven’t. First time for everything. How are you? I was worried.”
“I know, I’m sorry. The phone died and then Naomi started hitting the wine.”
“How is she?”
“Horrible. Just horrible. I want to kill Robert for doing that to her. Not that I’m surprised at all because I knew he was a fuck-face like that, but I mean, they just started going to couple’s therapy for this exact thing.”
“What a twat.”
I laugh softly. “Yes. He is a twat. I always forget you have the best insults.”
“Pithy insults are one of England’s greatest exports. That and the Spice Girls.”
I smile into the phone at that, then start laughing again once I remember all the things he was saying in the car last night on the way to dinner, the bee puns.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “About last night.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Marina, please stop apologizing. I forbid it. It happened, it’s fine. It’s more than fine, you did a good thing. But you’re also going to make up for it.”
I swallow hard. “Really?”
“Yes,” he says. “Tonight I’m coming over to your place and we’re going to drink beer, make popcorn and we’re going to sit on that sagging couch of yours and watch something. There may or may not be groping and/or kissing involved.”
Well, I’m speechless. I didn’t think he’d come out and say it but then again he surprised me last night when he said he was interested purely in me. Especially after he was hit on by Colleen Croix. I mean, I know I’m not ugly by any means but next to her, I look like a pig with a blonde wig. I’m basically Miss Piggy. She would wear a velvet dress too.
“I scared you didn’t I,” he says quietly after a moment.
“I’m not scared. I’m caught off-guard. There’s a difference.”
But yeah. A bit scared.
“It’s better I tell you now so that you have time to prepare. Although I suppose that might mean you have time to prepare some kind of defensive system. I’m picturing a wall of bees around you, ready to do your bidding.”
“Not if you behave,” I warn him playfully.
“Me, behave? If I do recall correctly, it was you who kissed me last night. There was a lot of tongue involved too.”
“Perhaps we’ll consult your Magic 8 Ball.”
“I already did. It says I can do no wrong.”
“It does not say that,” I say just as a beep of call waiting comes through my phone. “Hold on, Laz, got another call.”
I peer at the screen expecting to see Naomi’s picture on the screen. Instead it’s my aunt.
Oh fuck.
“Marina,” she says as soon as I answer. “It’s your father, he’s…in a bad way. I just came by to drop off groceries and he’s lost his mind. I might have to call the police, I can’t handle him like this.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I try to think. “Uh, no, don’t do that. Don’t do that, he can’t afford to get in trouble with them again. Where are you? What’s he doing?”
“I’m outside the house. I’m leaving, I don’t know what to do. I think he might get violent.”
“You know he’s not like that.”
“Well he’s your father Marina, come deal with him. Lord knows I’ve had to deal with everything ever since your mother died.” She hangs up.