Page 37 of Marley
On meth!
“Y-you, Marley Layton, are my favouritist big brother called Marley. The best, my very bestest one.” George points her finger up at me as she speaks.
“I’m your only big brother called Marley.”
“This true, this is vrery, vrery true,” she slurs.
I continue to watch the pair of them lying there. Ash is now curled on her side and crying with laughter. I still have no clue what she’s finding so funny though.
“Be smiley, Marls,” George says. “Don’t be a Lennon face, be a smiley Marley face.”
I hear a crash from up the hallway, just before Jimmie appears in the doorway.
“Oh great, here’s another one,” I say to anyone interested.
Jimmie is staring at me, well, at least trying to. She squints her eyes and sways as she holds something up to me. “My Louboutines, I brokeded them.”
What is it with women talking like three year olds when they get pissed up?
“Noooooooo,” Ashley screeches from the floor, attempting at the same time to sit up.
“Not the Boutines, that’s just so sad.” I give her a hand and move her to sit on the sofa I’d been sleeping on before the drunk circus arrived in town.
“Love you, Rock Star,” she whispers, making my heart do its usual little happy dance when I hear her say those words. That shit never gets old and my smile is instantaneous.
“Love you, baby.” As always, that’s my reply.
“Who said Len?” Jimmie asks. “Someone said Len, Lenny, Lennon. Where’s my baby? Is he here?”
She looks around with a smile on her face, as if Len’s hiding from her and about to jump out from behind the sofa and shout ‘ta da ... sur-fuckin-prise.’
They’ve only been invading my space for five minutes but they’re already giving me a headache. I know these three women better than I know my own dick, and I know full well that this is highly unlikely to end well.
“How the fuck do you go clothes shopping and come back in this state?” I ask again. They went to buy dresses and shoes, I’m pretty sure at no time was alcohol mentioned.
“S’er fault.” Ash and George say together, both pointing at Jimmie who I’m guessing is the least likely to blame for this.
Jimmie opens her eyes and mouth wide and looks around the room. Whether she’s still expecting Len to appear, I’ve no clue, but I wish he would. I’d welcome any kind of backup right now.
“Was Paige,” Jimmie states, vigorously nodding her head.
“Yeah,” says George, still speaking from her prone position on my office floor.
“It was her what done it. Lunch, she said, didn’t she girls?” They all nod.
“Where’s Paige now?” I ask in the hopes that one of them is capable of giving me an answer, and praying that they didn’t leave my niece drunk and wandering around Bluewater Shopping Centre.
“S’gone,” Ash sings and they all nod in unison, then she suddenly starts to laugh. “She’s not famous...” She gasps for breath between laughing and talking. “She’s not as famous as us.” All three of them are now laughing hysterically.
Jimmie slides to the floor and takes off her other shoe and crawls over to lay beside George, whose wiping tears from under her eyes.
“My daughter’s a bigger diva than your sister,” Jimmie informs me.
“Fuck you.”
Here we go.
“No one’s a digger biva than me.” Georgia declares, much to the delight of the other two drunkards.
