LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

was a golf buddy of Scott’s; Nicola adored him. He and his wife, Sandy, who was an absolute hoot, ran their own business importing high-end Asian furniture and homewares. Nicola wasn’t keen on the style of furniture, but had bought a pair of lovely paintings for the lounge room wall.

      There were rarely any customers in the shop and Nicola didn’t see how they made enough money to sustain their lavish lifestyle.

      Yet somehow they managed to have Sundays and two days off a week; Bob so he could achieve a single-figure golf handicap and Sandy so she could shop with the girls.

      Nicola loved spending time with Sandy; she was real. Well, as real as a boob job, liposuction, collagen lips and an incredible fake tan.

      Shopping with Sandy meant you’d never end up with something the tabloids could poke fun at. ‘No, no, no sweetie,’ she’d say. ‘You look like an old Jersey cow in that.’ Or, ‘That colour makes you look seasick.’ And she was always right.

      Nicola once suggested she get into the fashion industry. Sandy’s reply: ‘And have to deal with morons who think they look two sizes smaller than they are? At least furniture can’t tell you it looks fine when it doesn’t.’

      No, there was no arguing with Sandy – she had the world and her place in it well and truly sussed. The bluntness could be upsetting, but you always knew where you stood.

      ‘Daaarling,’ Sandy cooed, standing and embracing Nicola and kissing the air somewhere near her ears. She gave Scott the same treatment before sitting down.

      ‘Great to see you guys,’ Bob oozed. He rose, kissed Nicola firmly and gave Scott’s hand a solid pump.

      ‘Took the liberty of ordering you coffees,’ Sandy said. ‘Thought you might be a little shabby after a night on nasty wine. Hope it wasn’t too ghastly,’ she whispered to Nicola, now seated beside her.

      ‘It was a great night, wasn’t it?’ Scott said. A bit too defensively, Nicola thought. ‘Very informative.’

      ‘I bet. Lots of gorgeous specimens to perve on, eh Nicola?’ Sandy said, nudging her.

      ‘Sandra,’ Bob warned.

      ‘Get with the program, Bob – everyone knows these things are a veritable smorgasbord. Just look at Scott here.’ Scott blushed right up to his ears.

      ‘Sorry Scott, hadn’t noticed,’ Bob said, grinning cheekily. ‘Thank Christ for that.’

      ‘You’re in fine form this morning, Sandy. What’s been happening?’ Nicola said, fighting the urge to snap that there was no point having gorgeous if it didn’t put out.

      If Sandy knew the truth she’d say that it wasn’t bad wine but not enough sex making her cranky. Nicola had been horrified a couple of years ago when Sandy had volunteered – totally unprompted – that if Bob didn’t make love to her at least three times a week she was like a bear with a sore head.

      ‘Hey, have you got the new iPhone yet?’ Scott suddenly cried.

      ‘Um, I’m actually thinking of sticking with the current model,’ Bob said.

      ‘You’ll change your mind when you see it; here, check it out,’ he said, sliding his phone across to him. Within seconds they were both engrossed.

      Nicola and Sandy exchanged withering expressions.

      ‘Well, let me show you my new best friend.’ Sandy reached into her Louis Vuitton handbag.

      Please no, Nicola thought. Not in public. But she edged closer just the same.

      To Nicola’s relief (and just a tinge of disappointment), Sandy pulled out a small embossed silver pump pack a little larger than a lipstick.

      ‘Essential oil,’ she said proudly, taking the small lid off. ‘This one’s orange – take a whiff.’ She squirted a dose into the air. ‘Makes you feel all bright and chirpy. Give it a whirl on your temples – you look like you need something.’

       ‘Thanks,’ Nicola said sulkily.

      ‘You’ll have to excuse Sandra. She’s gone all hippy on us,’ Bob said.

      ‘Where’s that waiter? I’m starving,’ Sandy suddenly announced.

      ‘So, where did you get it?’ Nicola asked, turning the object over in her hand and sniffing the nozzle.

      ‘China – came as a sample with a heap of incense sticks and burners. Different fragrances for whatever mood you’re after.’

      ‘Hmm,’ Nicola mumbled, idly wondering if there was something she could give Scott.

      ‘So, Scotty,’ Bob finally said, putting his knife and fork down on a yolk-smeared plate. ‘Ready for a thrashing tomorrow?’ ‘Are you? That is the question.’

      ‘Come on you two. I thought golf was a battle between mind and little white ball,’ Sandy said.

      ‘Well, you thought wrong,’ Bob said.

      ‘Got a new driver this week – two-seventy-five right down the middle,’ Scott said, throwing an arm across the table.

      ‘You haven’t seen me around the green with my new lob wedge. Anything from fifty out and it’s all over red rover,’ Bob countered.

      ‘You have to get that close first – bit of a struggle with that slice you’re nurturing.’

      ‘I seem to remember a little trouble with a certain creek the other week – was it three or four balls?’

      ‘All right, you two. That’s enough,’ Nicola scolded.

      ‘Yeah, would you put your dicks away?’ Sandy added.

      ‘Well, may the best man win,’ Bob said defiantly, offering his hand across the table.

      ‘Indeed he will,’ Scott said, giving the hand a robust shake.

      ‘All too much for me,’ Sandy said, rolling her eyes. She reached for the essence spray still on the table.

      ‘So, what are you guys up to for the rest of today?’ Nicola asked, of no one in particular.

      ‘Driving range,’ Bob said quietly into his raised coffee cup. ‘Driving range,’ Scott said through clenched teeth, glaring at Bob.

      ‘Sandy?’ Nicola asked. ‘Shopping – you?’ ‘Same.’

      ‘Where are you heading – want to go together?’ ‘Well, I’m supposed to be going down Melbourne Street with Joanna – you remember her from that New Year’s Eve toga party at the Wharf.’

      ‘The one with the stunning race car boyfriend, right?’ ‘They split up.’

      ‘Oh, poor thing; he was yummy.’

      ‘Maybe, but the bastard ran off with one of the grid girls from the Melbourne Grand Prix – had been seeing her all year apparently.’

      ‘Dirty rotten scoundrel. She’ll need your undivided attention – I won’t intrude.’

      ‘Actually, she might like the diversion – not to mention someone else to tell her he’s a piece of shit not worth wasting tears over.’

      ‘Hope she got a chance to knee him in the balls,’ Sandy said quietly.

      ‘She needs to start being sociable again,’ Nicola continued, ignoring Sandy. ‘I’ll give her a quick call, but I’m sure she won’t mind.’ She picked up her iPhone and dialled.

      ‘Listen Bob, since we’re both going, want to go to the range together?’

      ‘What? And get a look at your secret weapon ahead of the comp?’

      ‘Watch and weep,’ Scott said.

      ‘You ain’t seen nothing

Скачать книгу