Page 23 of The Interview
“Don’t I get any of that?” I ask.
The poor girl’s eyes widen as she looks from the product held between her fingers, to me, to G, then around the room.
“He’s winding you up,” G says with an eye roll. “That’s not his colour.” She adds a wink.
The girl gives a small smile, nods, then scurries away.
My sister’s hand finds mine again.
“I love you,” I tell her. “I’ve never not loved you. Even when I was ruining your life, I still loved you.”
“I know,” she replies with a swift nod. “You were young and dumb?—”
“I was a fucking idiot,” I interject.
She purses her lips and blows out a long, slow breath. “We all were, Marls.” She turns and finally looks at me. “Every single one of us.”
Daniel takes his seat, and we both sit up straight and face him.
Georgia doesn’t let go of my hand.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
MARLEY
“Before we start, I’ve just spoken with our legal team. They’re good for you to name names.”
Georgia’s hand tenses in mine. I nod my understanding, but don’t make eye contact with her.
The set falls quiet.
“So, start at the beginning. Paris, where it all fell apart,” Daniel suggests.
I shake my head. “Paris isn’t the beginning. That’s not where it started.”
“Where, then? When?” Dan questions.
I scratch my fingernails over the stubble on my jaw, then wonder if the mics can pick up the sound of it and whether it’ll be annoying for anyone at home having to listen to that raspy…
Raspy.
The way Maca’s voice was so often described.
My gut churns, and my mouth goes dry.
Georgia reaches across and covers my hand with the one I’m not holding onto for dear fucking life.
“Way back,” I manage to say, “Haley White had followed us from the very beginning. She didn’t go to our school, wasn’t in our clique, but was just always there. At parties, at gigs we went to, then at gigs we started playing. Then she’d somehow find out where we were rehearsing and turn up there.”
“I didn’t know that. That she turned up at rehearsals, I mean,” says Georgia.
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “She’d turn up with McDonald’s, maybe a bargain bucket, or beers, so obviously we didn’t turn her away.”
“Obviously,” my sister adds sarcastically.
“She got more and more flirty.” I pause, knowing my sister will have something to say about that.
