“I’m sorry, Ms. Craig, Mr. McGrath isn’t here.”
Silence.
“Oh right, have you got his number then? I’ll call him directly.” Lana persisted.
“No, Ms. Craig, I can’t give out Mr. McGrath’s personal information. Good night.”
Lana dropped the phone like it was on fire. “The witch hung up on me. How rude.”
Amanda removed her knuckles from her teeth, giggling until her face turned red. “Oh, Lana, you sounded like a Muppet.”
Both girls laughed in harmony. Lana spilt drink over her bare thighs, squealing as it trickled down to her fluffy slipper socks.
A shrill ring from her mobile phone made her leap forward. She swayed and padded the floor until she set her hand on the phone. A withheld number flashed on the screen.
She scowled. “Who the hell is this?”
Amanda threw her arms up over her head and stretched. “It might be lover boy,” she teased. “Or Rory, maybe you should let him know you’re safe.”
“Hello.”
“Lana, are you okay?” Marcus’s deep gravelly voice made every single hair on her body stand to attention. “Donna Marie said you were looking for me.”
“Marcus, hi, ah, yes, I, um, just called to say hi.” She almost lifted off the chair in shock. “How did you get this number?”
“Are you drunk?” he growled.
“Just tipsy.” Oh God, she had made a big mistake calling him after two bottles. “Just a little.”
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“I’m staying with my girlfriend, Amanda. Well, she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my best friend. I don’t have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, not even a fiancé for that matter.”
For a split second it felt like he was going to say something about her relationship status, but he just sighed instead. “Get some sleep, Lana. Don’t leave Amanda’s house in that state.”
The the line went dead.
Lana swallowed hard and pulled the blanket over her sticky legs, hiding her face in her hands.
“Holy shit. He hung up, too. I’m mortified,” she muttered in disbelief of the humiliating conversation that just played out in real time.
Amanda tried so hard to control her fit of giggles, but she wheezed and sucked in a grunt through her nose. “Lan, you’re so funny. That was one hundred percent awkward,” she cackled, reaching over to her iPod to hit reshuffle.
The girls called it a night at 3 a.m. Lana fell asleep, thinking about Marcus, which was a regular occurrence these days.
She dreamt about his stubbly angular jaw, gorgeous green eyes and his sinfully soft lips trailing kisses along the inside of her thigh.
A loud knock jerked her awake, tearing her away from the best sex dream ever. She rolled over and fell off the sofa.
Clambering up from the floor, she glanced at the kitchen clock – it was just after seven thirty in the morning.
“Amanda? Some crazy person is at your door,” she yelled, wincing as her head thumped with the loudness of her own voice.
Amanda didn’t stir, the banging continued. For goodness sake. She didn’t have any cash for the window cleaner or any other bloody debt collector.
She caught a glimpse of her pale face, with dark shadows under her eyes and bright red dehydrated lips. At this minute, there was nothing she could do to make herself presentable for whoever was on the other side of the door.
Gingerly opening the door, she stumbled backward as Marcus stormed in, carrying a brown paper bag, wearing a black sports cap.