Page 50 of Something Borrowed

“Fine. He split up with Flora.”

“What? When did you hear that?”

“He rang me this morning. I got chapter and verse on the split and a recommendation for a new type of weed.”

“I thought Flora was the love of his life.”

“You know Pat. She was the love of five minutes of his life.”

“So, what’s he up to now?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any guarantees.”

“He’s joined a commune in Ibiza.”

“Sorry?” I choke and break into laughter.

He shakes his head, a smile playing over his lips. “It’s a very nice one, apparently. They have cabins and a sea view.”

“They’ll be worshipping him within three months tops.”

“He is very irresistible.”

“I still can’t believe he sold the shop to you for a hundred quid. I’m not convinced he wasn’t drunk or high. Or both.”

“You know Pat. Family is everything, and he believes possessions and money bring out the evil in society.”

“He certainly could have taught my parents a thing or two. Although not in casual drug use and extremely casual shagging. They had him beat on all fronts.”

He squeezes my arm, and I savour his touch. He knows my entire history, and I know his, and our closeness is a precious thing.

The lights dim, and when the band plays those first exciting notes, Stan and I cheer. The air reverberates with a heavy dance track, and the next hour is spent dancing and singing along. I might watch Stan more than the band, but that’s my secret.

They stop playing for intermission—a tradition the owners keep mainly to sell vast quantities of booze—and I lead Stan down the corridor towards the bar. His body is damp with sweat, a scent that mingles pleasantly with his cologne. It makes my head spin.

“This is why I like being with you,” he says, probably louder than usual because our ears are ringing.

“I’m sure there are a multitude of reasons,” I say just to hear him laugh. “Name this one.”

“Because you let me be me.”

He pauses, enthusiastically waving his hands around, and I smile helplessly at him. “Bennett would never have allowed me stand at the railing and let me dance.”

“Letyou?” I say crossly. “Has he bought you, and I never realised? Well, I hope he kept the receipt. It’ll be buyer’s remorse; you mark my words.”

He laughs, but I grimace. I hate the way he introduces Bennett into our conversations, but I guess it’s a bright point that he doesn’t sound very fond of him tonight.

“He said you were a bad influence.”

“I heard. Has he actually met you? You are the source of at least fifty-two per cent of our bad ideas.”

“Maybe more,” he says with a pleased smile.

“Probably.” I snort. “And how the fuck was the skydivingmyfault? That was all you. ‘Oh Raff, I need to feel alive. I need my blood to pump in my veins. You’ll jump out of a plane with me, won’t you, Raff?’”

“Wanker,” he says, laughing at my impersonation of him.

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