Page 63 of Toy Boy
“Why did you have lunch with him?”
“What’s with the sudden interrogation? I had lunch with the man, what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem…? Why did you agree to meet him?”
“Because I wanted to hear what he had to say. The air needs to be cleared.”
“That’s whathesaid.”
“Well, maybe he’s right.”
She lets out a rather loud snort of contempt – derision would be far too nice a word for it – and shifts about in her seat, clasping her hands together in her lap. “So, what did he have to say, then?”
I shrug and take a sip of beer. “Nothing that you need to know about.”
“Oh, great! That really puts my mind at rest.”
“He thinks we’re unfinished business.”
Her head shoots up so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash. “And what didyousay?”
“Nothing.” I drop my gaze, and I hate that all I want to do is look up, at Scott. It’s actually taking every ounce of willpower I have not to do that. “After he said that – assoonas he said that, I left.”
“Good. Anyway, let’s not talk about him anymore.” She sits up straight and waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Let’s talk about your new man.”
Hearing her describe Xander as my “new man” makes me feel a little uncomfortable, and as I finally look up and scan the packed terrace, I catch sight of Hanna and a group of her friends hanging out down on the beach, and I can’t help thinking how much more suited to Xander she is than I am. He’s still young enough to enjoy beach barbecues and parties and early morning surf sessions.
And you’re not? You’re forty-three, you’re not dead yet!
In reality, though, they’d be perfect together.
You’reperfect together! What’s wrong with you…?
“Megan? Are you listening to me?”
“Of course I am.”
I’m not, not really. My mind is elsewhere, and I don’t even know why Laney’s here, it certainly isn’t to see me.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, trying to stop my eyes from flitting back to Scott’s table. “I’ve seen you twice in less than a fortnight. Anyone would think you’re checking up on me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m meeting a new client for dinner at half-eight.”
“Here?”
“No, not here. I think the firm’s expense account can run to something more than pie and chips. We’re meeting at Mika’s. I’m craving a beef stifado, and any excuse to go there when I’m back in town, I’m using it. I miss that place.”
She’s not wrong about Mika’s beef stifado. It’s pretty fantastic, and I make a mental note to have dinner there again myself someday soon. It used to be one of mine and Scott’s regular haunts, we’d have dinner there at least once a week, we even had our own table in the end, by the window, so we could look out over the harbour.
I drag myself back from memories that are suddenly resurfacing at breakneck speed, and turn my attention back to my sister. “I thought clients usually came to you?”
“That’s a very suspicious tone you’ve got there, do you know that?”
I just throw her a look, and she raises an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth edging up into a knowing smile.
“Alright, you got me. I’m a nosy cow, so, yes, this is a deliberate detour. I thought I might finally meet this Xander properly, before I go and meet my client. Is he coming here tonight?”
“Maybe.”