The Great Christmas Breakup Part 16

I should have taken my hands back immediately, but I discovered it actually felt good to have someone touching me; to have someone caring about me.

*Tall skinny cap, tall gingerbread latte with cream,' the barista called.

Coming to my senses, I leaped up to get the drinks, and when I returned, Robert had the same bemused smile on his face.

*I would have gotten the drinks.'

*It warmed me up, moving about.'

I placed his creamy beverage in front of him.

Again, the blue eyes bore into my own. Some women might find it alluring, but I felt too exposed by his obvious interest and turned away.

*Do I repulse you that much, or are you no longer used to intimacy?'

I looked back at him. The pale eyes were still locked onto my own brown ones so I quickly cast a glance elsewhere in the room.

It seemed that if I lied, he would know.

*Well?' he pressed.

A moment later I answered.

*The latter.' It was a whisper.

What the h.e.l.l I was saying?

And why was I saying it?

*That's what I hoped,' Robert replied, sitting back with satisfaction.

*Now, tell me more about the chocolate.'

Hammertro was waiting for me as I entered the building. Looking like he was being auditioned for some magazine spread, he was leaning against the stack of unclaimed mail (Yes, it was that tall a pile!) in his loose western s.h.i.+rt, vest and black trousers.

*What's wrong?' I asked, panicked. Hammertro didn't usually waste time hanging about foyers. Not unless he was on a *job'.

*Are the kids okay?'

*Nothin' happin', seeeexy momma, chillax.'

*What?'

The fine features contorted as he sighed deeply and dramatically. *Imma just waitin' for your hot sista-in-law.'

*You shouldn't go there,' I said.

The white teeth glistened. *Too late.'

I winced. Too much information.

*Look, Hammertro, I should warn you, Cecily 2 is more than slightly insane . . .'

*Yeah, that's what I love about her.' He ran a tongue around his lips, as if showing me what else he liked about her.

I didn't reply. What else was there to say?

Except, Cecily 2 is mad, so R.U.N.!

Then I remembered the Chocolato business.

*Look, is your uncle up for some work?'

My neighbor's ears p.r.i.c.ked up. *What kinda work? It involve guns? *Cause that's A.O.K.'

*No guns. It's a legitimate business arrangement. I am working on these shop windowsa*

*You want someone to help you knock off some merchandise, eh?' Hammertro came closer and nudged me, nodding knowingly.

*No, of course not! Honestly, Hammertro, don't you know me at all?'

*What's to know? You're broke, I'm broke, Uncle Rabbit, he's broke too. Why not get us some Christmas cheer, hah?'

*Forget crime for a moment, will you? I want Uncle Rabbit to do some work on some old-fas.h.i.+oned fruit boxes. They need to look like Noah's Arks. I'll pay him. I need some windows built into them, and some hidden insulation.'

*Why?' Hammertro was marginally intrigued; he was still maintaining occasional eye contact with the front door.

*To put chocolates in. So that they don't melt. The insulation should protect them from the heat from the lighting.'

Now that there wasn't any *action' involved, he wasn't interested.

*Right, whatever, here comes seeeexy Ce-ce. I'll speak to my uncle later, but I'm sure he won't say no to cash. It is cash, right?'

*Yes. In that case, I'll bring the boxes around to yours tomorrow, okay?' I had no idea where I would get retro fruit boxes from, but there had to be somewhere to find them, didn't there?

*Yeah, whatevs, heeeelllo seeeexy,' he whistled, as my revolting sister-in-law sashayed through the broken security door in her leatherette mistress uniform.

*Nice day at work?' I asked.

*What's that supposed to mean?' Cecily 2 yelled.

There was not the slightest inflection of sarcasm in the question a Cecily 2 was truly a mad b.i.t.c.h. You couldn't even ask her how her day was without getting pounded.

*Forget it,' I said, moving up the stairs in front of them, the sound of loud, smacking kisses making it difficult to resist the urge to throw myself down the centre of the stairwell.

Carson made an appearance just as I was dis.h.i.+ng up a tomato and basil pasta an hour later. He was carrying yet another load of books, which he quickly shoved into his filing cabinet and locked up. Perhaps he was worried one of us would set them alight to save on fuel?

*You're late,' I said yet again.

*And you could have given me a lift home from Manhattan,' Cecily 2 commented, sliding into the room in shorts and a vinyl looking vest top. *I know you saw me.'

Running his hand through his thinning hair a his newly developed nervous tick a Carson said he didn't know what Cecily 2 was on about. *What were you doing in Manhattan?' he shot back. *Your work's in Brooklyn, isn't it?'

*Yes, isn't it?' I added. Wasn't that job the reason she was staying with us, torturing me daily?

*I was shopping. It is coming up to Christmas.' Cecily 2 looked about the room, her red-rimmed eyes s.h.i.+fty.

*But you don't work in Manhattan either, Carson, do you? Aren't you supposed to be in school?' What was going on? Everyone related to me seemed to be becoming a compulsive liar. Or perhaps I was simply going mad?

*I told you, I wasn't in Manhattan,' Carson told us, not very believably. Then he tried to deftly change the subject: *Now, what's for dinner?'

I filed his pathetic excuse away in the back of my mind, alongside all the others.

*Something that looks like it was sc.r.a.pped off the street,' Cecily 2 winked at the kids, who had come into the kitchen at the sound of the raised voice of their dad.

Cecily 2's eye twitched radically, and Jessie backed away again, saying she wasn't hungry.

Clearly the poor child preferred starvation to eating with her dysfunctional aunt.

J took one look at the supper on offer a pasta with dried basil, some beans of dubious origin in a sauce of ketchup, and followed his sister back down the hall.

*Right, that's me done.' I dropped the pot on the table. *You two enjoy.'

Heading down the corridor, I found the kids in J's room.

*Anyone fancy some McDonald's?' The $1000 deposit from Robert was supposed to be for fittings, but I figured I could afford to spend a little on subsistence, couldn't I?

*Yes!' J punched the air, and we quickly bundled up and raced out the door before Cecily 2 and Carson got wind of what we were up to.

Sod them both.

Just before bedtime, with Carson teed off at having to spend two long hours listening to his sister discuss the s.e.x life of her cat again, the phone rang.

I let the machine pickup. The answer machine contained four new messages, all from Mum.

I couldn't bear to call her back right then.

I knew I couldn't tell Mum the truth about why I wasn't already on a plane. She'd no doubt have already guessed Jessie wasn't as ill as I'd made out, mostly because I kept refusing to elaborate on the exact cause of my daughter's illness.

The whole thing was so unbelievably sad a it was too late to tell Dad I knew about his indiscretions; to tell him to make things good with Mum before . . . well, before it was all over.

My phone binged.

Robert.

Great.

Another problem.

Was it a problem? Or a delicious secret?

I was so tired that I didn't really care, I told the evil voice in my head. I read the message: Lunch tomorrow? Or the day after? Can't wait to see you again. R. x.

Had he really signed that text with a kiss?

Wasn't it too soon for that?

Wasn't it a tad inappropriate?

*Who was that?' Carson asked, turning over in bed, absorbed in trying to mark some poor kid's English a.s.signment. There were lots of red crosses scattered over the page.

I didn't answer. Why should I? How dare he question me? If he thought I'd bought his lie about being in Manhattan he was sorely mistaken. Cecily 2 might be insane but the insanity didn't usually manifest in seeing things, or people, that weren't there.

Why was Carson in Manhattan in the middle of the afternoon?

For the second time in a week.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Sod him.

I returned a text.

Sounds good.

As an afterthought, I added the *x'.

And then, looking at Carson, brow furrowed as his hand flew across the page, crossing and ticking, I deleted the *x'.

*Did you listen to the messages from your Mom?' Carson voice was snappy.

*'Yes.'

*What's up?'

*What do you care?'

He looked over, pretending to be bewildered.

I longed to tell him to drop the act, that I knew he was up to something, but I didn't.

When he didn't answer I gave up. I was far too exhausted to have to argue.