White Lady by Jessica Bell Read Free Book Online Page B

sweet lullaby. I stare at my reflection in the glass and tip my head to the side. My mascara has smudged.
    Pretty.
    “Mia?” Kimi asks, her voice rising in tone a little. “I need your help with something. I need to you to help me fuck someone up. Can I trust you?”

Chapter 18
    Sonia: Did I really say “lemme”?
    I have had three double bourbons on a school night. Nash has had five, and has almost finished his packet of Drum. He is rolling his last slither of tobacco now, grinning like an idiot. A handsome one, though. And an awkwardly charming one.
    I am a lucky woman.
    The street spins around me like a Google map virtual view, in a slow and beautiful cinematographic glide. No nausea, just a sluggish yet embraced lull in my tired and abused brain. It has been a long time since I felt the effects of alcohol, and it is absolutely splendid. I can still hold it down pretty well. Remarkable really. Even more remarkable that I think it is something to be proud of. But I am. Especially in front of Nash, who is still grinning like an idiot, lighting his cigarette, staring into the sky, exhaling his smoke as if a sacrifice to the moon. The man on the moon. I like to think of him as God——an optical illusion, something we wish to perceive.
    “What do you think of God?” I say with a few too many pauses between words. I mark the end of the question with a mouthful of bourbon. Or perhaps it is to prevent myself from vomiting more nonsense.
    “Not a bad guy.” Nash takes another drag. “Met him at the pub last weekend.” He exhales with a smirk. A short gust of wind shifts his cap, but he pulls it back down before it comes off.
    “Since when do you go and see live music?” I say.
    “I don’t.”
    I frown and draw my chin into my neck. A bubble of vomit rises up my throat, but I catch it just in time and swallow it back down with a wince.
    I squint at Nash, with my head tilted to the side. I feel sixteen again. The day I tried to act cool in front of him in Chemistry. I recited the periodic table from top to bottom, after looking at it for only two minutes. I saw Nash smile at me. I thought he was going to say something, but Ibrahim slapped him on the back and started whispering about getting high behind the shelter shed at lunch. I will never forget how much I wanted to be invited. I will also never forget how much I regret being invited the next day.
    My face is hot, the tips of my fingers cold, my palms and feet sweaty. I fling my head back and look into the sky—the stars are hidden behind a thick mass of grey cloud illuminated by the city’s glow.
    “I said God . Do you believe in him?” I look back down and clear my throat.
    Nash squashes his top lip to his nose in thought, takes another sip of his drink using the hand that is holding the cigarette.
    “Actually, do not answer that. Lemme ask you another question.” Wow. Was that a slur? Did I really just say lemme ?
    Nash taps his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. It’s the first time the wind hasn’t blown the ash away.
    Nash looks into my eyes; the streetlights reflect off them like travelling souls. I count the seconds of silence in my head and divide it by pi—just for fun.
    “What would you say if I said I was serious about the Gold Coast?” I soften and lower my voice, trying not to sound drunk. “It is their last year of school; they can look after themselves.”
    Nash smiles and gets the waiter’s attention. He asks for the bill.
    “What are you doing?” I say. Why does he keep ignoring me? Are we leaving? I was just beginning to relax. I need this. I have needed it for a long, long time. I am not done. Need another drink, but I do not have the energy to protest. I look at my hands, all four of them, blurring into each other.
    Nash smirks at me, lifts his pelvis, pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, slams it on the table like a deck of cards.
    I laugh and down the remainder of my drink. I close my eyes and sigh.
    School. Right.