Page 10 of Resist
“Everyone, lower your voices,” Matt hissed. “People can hear us.”
For a moment, I felt like standing up, peering over the screen, and agreeing with him. But I didn’t; I forked my omelette instead and kept eavesdropping.
“Do you really think she’s hot?” Corinne asked.
They all answered yes, and I smirked. For forty-two years of age, I wasn’t ashamed to admit that, yeah, I looked great. After leaving my husband of nineteen years, meditation, clean eating, and exercise were my saving grace. They’d offered a new lease on life, a new focus and the building of strength, both internally and externally, which was exactly what I’d needed to move on and survive.
“I wonder how old she is?” Corinne mumbled.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask women that?”
“You’re not, Dimps.”
“I’m guessing thirty-three.”
“Nah, she’s older than that, Brad.”
“Bullshit!”
“Her tits have dropped—” Cutlery clanged yet again. “WAIT! I’m sorry, Cori. Put the roll down. I take it back.”
“You better, Joshua Adams.”
“Fuck me, how many rolls are there in this joint? It’s like a never-ending basket of bread.”
“We should put a wager on it,” Brad said.
Corinne choked. “What … on Helena’s age?”
“Yeah, why not? Twenty dollars each.”
“And everyone thinks I’m the arsehole.”
“You are, Bugs.”
“Fine. I’m in then. Twenty bucks says she’s thirty-eight.”
Someone drummed the table.
“How ‘bout you, Chief?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Slick?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Cori?”
“I’m not playing this game.”
“But you were the one who brought it up.”
“Yeah, brought it up, not ‘gather round, gather round, place your bets’.”
“Your loss. How ‘bout you, Dimps?”
I found myself waiting eagerly to hear his answer, as if it meant more than the others, which was just ridiculous. The whole wager was ridiculous, and a waste of time because none of them would find out my age anyway.
