She walked over and handed me a coffee before joining me on the sofa.“So, do you have a boyfriend?”Wow, she really had no filter. She went right ...o the gossip.“No.”“So who was the guy you had sex with Sunday?”“Umm, I didn’t have sex Sunday.” Technically it had been Monday morning so I wasn’t lying.“Honey, your tit was hanging out and I could smell the sex on you when you walked by me. I’m not June Cleaver. I’ve been around the block a few times myself.”“June who?”“Never mind. So what was. The tune she couldn’t have named, but she recognised it as the intro to one of the CSI shows. Its raucous energy, complete with Roger Daltry’s long opening scream, seemed in keeping with the evening. Then Jared was strolling past her into the kitchen, chatting amiably about the spartan condition of the place and its lack of suitability for guests, “ … least of all one as classy as you, Sylvia”. As though he gave a damn. She could scarcely focus on his words anyway, so level had her eye-line. More

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