Original Cyn by Sue Margolis Read Free Book Online

right. Oliver Reed.”
    Hugh looked thoughtful. “Look, I know I’ve been taking the piss, but seriously, Justin will come round, you know.” Harmony shook her head. “We were up all last night, talking. The bank has offered him a job in Dubai. He said we could carry on as we are—you know, seeing each other two or three times a week—or he could take the job. I told him to take it.”
    “Do you really mean it?” Hugh asked. She said she did. “Deep down I knew it was never going to work. I mean he’s an earth sign. I’m a water sign. Together we just made mud.” She gave a soft laugh.
    “What about his investment in the business?” Hugh said.
    “My accountant says I can afford to buy him out.”
    Cyn and Hugh came and sat next to her on the sofa. Hugh put his head on her shoulder. Cyn squeezed her hand. “It’ll be all right,” Cyn said. “You’ve got us.” “Thanks, guys,” she said. Then she perked up and said she wanted to talk about something less depressing. Hugh changed the subject back to Chelsea.
    “Whadda cow,” Harmony said after she’d heard the story. “You know, where I come from, if a woman does the dirty on you, you make blinkin’ sure she gets what’s coming to her.”
    “Hmm, that would be one approach,” Hugh came back, “though not one I would necessarily endorse. Holloway Prison isn’t really at its best this time of year.”
    “Er, hello,” Cyn butted in, “can I say something here? Look, I don’t know yet if she even did it on purpose. I can’t go blasting in, accusing her. I will talk to her, though.”
    “You just make sure you get to the
bottom
of it,” Harmony giggled.
    “Oh, God, no more arse jokes, please,” Cyn groaned.
    “Well, you have to admit,” Harmony said, “it is quite funny.”
    As Cyn cleared away the plates and pizza remains, Harmony noticed Hugh’s screenplay lying on the coffee table.
    “
My Brother, My Blood, My Life
by Hugh Thorpe Duff,” she read aloud. “Wow, hev-ee.” Hugh gave her an outline of the plot.
    “You’re kidding me,” Harmony said with a confused, slightly nervous laugh. She was looking at Cyn, who was standing by the door violently shaking her head and motioning her to shut up. “This is a windup, right?”
    “I’m absolutely serious,” he said, looking exceedingly put-out. “
My Brother, My Blood, My Life
is a classic example of film noir.” He looked over at Cyn. “And Cyn loves it—don’t you, Cyn?”
    “I think it’s very powerful,” Cyn said diplomatically.
    “I’m sorry,” Harmony said, putting an affectionate hand on Hugh’s knee. “Look, maybe it was daft trying it out on me. What do I know? We didn’t have too many art house cinemas where I grew up. We didn’t even have TV until I was ten. If we wanted to watch something we went to visit our washing at the Laundromat.”
    Cyn took the plates out to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. When she came back Hugh was trying to educate Harmony in the loftier aspects of film noir.
    “But I just find it so depressing and boring. No offense, ’Ewge, but it isn’t me. I’m more of a chick-flick girl.” She jumped up, went over to Cyn’s video shelf and ran her finger along the line of boxes. “Wow, I didn’t know you had this,” she said pulling out a copy of
Working Girl
. “It’s my all-time favorite film. Why don’t we put it on? I love the way Melanie Griffith kicks that Sigourney Weaver’s tight little arse after she steals her idea.”
    Hugh let out a sigh. “Christ, I’ve seen it a thousand times.”
    Cyn looked at her watch and realized she was due at her group in twenty minutes. “OK, guys, I’ve got to go. Stay and watch a vid if you want to.”
    “You sure?” Harmony said.
    “No problem. There’s more beer in the fridge. See ya.” As she stood in the hall putting on her coat, she could hear them still discussing the film.
    “Oh, come on, ’Ewge,” Harmony was pleading, “I know it’s a bit plebeian and