Page 7 of Love and Loathing

“Because he’s too old? Too evil?”

Roscoe rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a brotherly shove. “No. Because he’s too…Aubrey.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Roscoe shook his head, looking as though he wished he hadn’t said anything. “He’s…complicated. Doesn’t do relationships. And he’s definitely not right for you, Eve. Any idiot can see that. You’d terrify the poor man.”

“Me?” she protested.

But then there was a shadow at the end of the hallway. Aubrey approaching, making the generous hallway seem much smaller than it was. Evie finished putting on her shoes and picked up her bag, ignoring the two men’s conversation.

“I’m calling it a night, Roscoe. Early start. You know.”

“I do. Thanks for making it, though. It was good to see you.”

“You’re missed. At BG. It’s not the same. I’ll say hello to your father, shall I?”

Evie glanced up in time to see the mixture of expressions that crossed Roscoe’s face. He settled on a lopsided smile, a little strained. “I suppose so.”

Aubrey just nodded, understanding, and squeezed his shoulder. Then he looked at Evie.

“How are you getting home?”

“Tube,” she said, at the same time as Roscoe said, “Taxi.”

She exchanged a look with her brother. “The tube is fine.”

“A taxi is safer.”

“It’s central London.”

“I’ve ordered a taxi,” said Aubrey. “Share mine.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. He met it with a bland expression.

Dementedly, disloyally, her brother chimed in with, “That’s a good idea.”

“Don’t worry,” said Aubrey, reaching past Evie to open the front door and somehow managing to shepherd her out before she could think of a semi-polite way to protest this absurd plan. “I’ll see she gets home safe.”

“Thanks, man,” said Roscoe. “Appreciate it.” He winked at Evie. “Night, sis. Have a good trip.”

She stared at the closed door, jaw clenched, then shot a look at Aubrey who was standing complacently at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister rail, the other gesturing down. “Shall we?”

“I’m getting the tube,” she said, following him sullenly down the stairs.

“The taxi is already here.”

She stared at the dark back of his head, hating it.

He said nothing more until they were out in the street, the night sky stretching to infinity, offering no comfort, just an implacable, careless sort of judgement.Silly humans,it seemed to say.Silly problems.

Street lamps glinted on dew-wet cobbles. The black cab sat idling by the kerb, the sound of the electric engine still strange to Evie’s ears. It had turned cold. She had no coat, the day havingbeen so hot. But Aubrey was already shrugging out of his jacket, eyeing the betraying goosebumps on her bare arms.

“No,” she said, appalled and embarrassed at being offered the jacket.

He just sighed and put it around her shoulders, then opened the taxi door.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to talk to me. I’ll entertain myself.” He pulled his phone from his pocket with a jaunty wave. “Spend the journey buying oil shares. Investing in weapons manufacturers.”

---