Page 64 of Corkscrew You
So what I say instead is, “Shel, we shouldn’t have done that.”
“Nate,” she sighs. “It’s done. Don’t stress about it.”
“This ismeyou’re talking to,” I reply.
“I know,” she says, gently. “Do your best. And sleep tight. I’ll see you Monday.”
“OK,” is my inadequate goodbye.
The phone bleeps its “call over” signal. I place it to one side and, reluctantly, lift the top sheet to assess the damage. Ugh. Funky.
I hop out of bed, carefully, open my sports bag. There’s a sweat towel. It’s small but it will have to do. One bodily fluid’s much like another, right?
Afterwards, I lie back in bed again, in a different spot, and get ready to stare at the ceiling for another few hours, as per pretty much every night up till now, bar the one I got hammered, and the one where Shelby and I…
Amazingly, I fall asleep straight away, and dream of being stroked with feathers. Which feels nowhere near as strange or perverted as I might have expected. Learn something new every day.
* * *
I wake up to find I’ve sleptwaypast my usual rising time. I’ve been trying to get out each day for a run, more for stress relief than fitness, and it helps if the sun’s not baking down on me. Plus, early morning’s so peaceful around here.
Today, I’ve missed the dawn slot by a good four hours. I throw my running gear on, anyway. If I go a shorter distance, I should be able to avoid heat stroke.
Halfway down the stairs, I hear voices by the front door. Mom. Shit, JP too.AndPetra.
I hesitate. My running shorts aren’tthatshort, but still, I feel a little underdressed. And no doubt Danny will be looking his sharp preppy best.
Cursing a testosterone-fuelled competitive nature, and Dan for looking like a Ralph Lauren model, I hightail it back upstairs and change.
Mom has taken her guests through to the formal living room. Which means she’s still anxious. If she were feeling relaxed, she’d have steered the pair to her happy place, our kitchen. I get the feeling she’s working up to petitioning JP, asking him to add his voice to the chorus that Dad has so far tuned out.
Danny’s beaten me here. And he’s signalled his intent by wearing the pink polo shirt. We all gave him shit for becoming Mr LA but there’s no doubt it suits him. The shirt emphasizes his masculine physique while at the same time showing his vulnerable side. And that will beexactlyDanny’s plan, the shameless jerk.
“Oh, Nate, here you are.”
Mom puts her hand on my arm, steers me forward to greet the guests. JP and I shake hands. I meet his eye, and he knows I’m grateful that he’s here.
“Nathan.”
Petra has this husky voice that, I swear, has some quality that bypasses your ears and goes straight to your groin. She’s smiling at me, arms outstretched, and she is, without doubt, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
I mean, Shelby’s gorgeous, and without being weird, my sisters and Mom are all seriously attractive. But when you see Petra, you knowexactlywhy the Trojan War started. Even though she’s nearly sixty years old, her beauty is mesmerizing.
Petra kisses me on both cheeks. I breathe in her signature perfume and feel my brain turn to mush on the spot. Then she steps back, and eyes me up and down.
“I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last saw you,” she says. “Howhandsomeyou’ve become. You and Danny both. Thoughyou, Nate, you’re aproperman now.”
It takes all my willpower not to direct a shit-eating smirk at Dan. Takethat, Danny boy. With the emphasis on “boy.”
But then in rocks Max, and Petra begins to gush.
“Oh, my God, Ginny. Your children are sobeautiful.”
She kisses Max, who is completely unfazed by her attentions, the little bastard.
“Max, youmustcome round and play for us,” Petra insists. “We’ve heardamazingreports of your talent.”
“Jealous much?” Dan whispers in my ear.
