Page 128 of The Bonus

“Pilates instructor from hell.” She laughs and sits down opposite me. “My ass is grass. I’m on a health kick that’s about to kill me.”

“It’s working. You are glowing.” I smile.

“Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you.” She jabbers on as she takes her jacket off. “Why didn’t you call me back last week, by the way?”

Before I can answer, she talks over me again.

“You won’t believe what Patrick has gone and done.”

I smile as I listen, something about Claire Anderson brings me a sense of calm. We met not long after her first husband died and for some reason we just clicked. She rants and raves while I listen and she’s probably the most normal person I know…apart from Gracie.

“What did he do?” I sip my scotch.

“He thought he would start Tristan’s Aston up in the garage…” She looks down at my drink. “Why are you drinking scotch at lunchtime?”

I roll my eyes. “Sorry, Mom.”

“Anyway, why he did it, I do not know, and the car jumped out of gear, lurched forward and hit the brick wall.”

I chuckle as I imagine the scenario.

“And Tristan is away in Paris and I’m trying to get it fixed before he gets back because he’s going to go absolutely postal.”

“When does he get back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“No chance.”

“Why, why not?” She puts her hand up to catch the waiter’s attention, “All I want is a glass of wine, this healthy crap sucks. Anyway, everyone is saying that they can’t fix it at short notice, I mean, it’s one little ding and a bumper, how hard can that be to do?”

I lean my face on my hand as I listen to her chaos, and I smile.

“Anyway, I told Patrick he has to pay for it, and then…”

“Does he have a spare thirty thousand dollars?”

“What?”

“It’s an Aston Martin, it isn’t going to be three hundred bucks, Claire.”

“Ugh…” She rolls her eyes. “Why does he have to have such a wanky car, anyway?”

“Because he’s a wanker.” I sip my drink.

“So…” She finally falls calm as her eyes find mine. “How are you?”

My face falls before I can catch it.

“What’s wrong?” She frowns.

“Nothing.”

“Gabriel,” she warns. “Don’t lie to me, your face just told me that something is wrong.”

I stare at her for a moment.

“Gabe.” She takes my hand over the table. “Is it Ariana?”

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