equivalent of fighting to the death. I’ll show him. Take that! Adrenaline pumping, I blast a line at him. I’ll show her. Take that! Gripping the microphone, he lunges at me with another line.
Back and forth, back and forth . . .
‘Excuse me.’
Until, in the middle of our song-fight, the music stops and I hear a voice. It’s the bartender’s. ‘Guys, your tow-truck is here.’
Chapter Thirty
‘Well, I guess this is goodbye.’
Walking through the gate at JFK Airport in New York and out into the busy arrivals hall, Nate turns to me.
Walkth,…eight=“0” width=“14” align=“justify”>‘You hope so,’ I caution.
‘Oh, don’t tell me, the legend is going to get me,’ he mocks, waggling his fingers spookily and humming the music from The Twilight Zone.
‘Ha, ha, very funny.’
‘Well, c’mon,’ he tuts. ‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that?’
‘Of course not.’ I shrug. ‘You never believe anything I say.’
He nods, as if to say, Yes, that’s true, then winces and clutches his forehead. Taking out a blister packet of ibuprofen, he pops out two pills and swigs from his Evian bottle. ‘Why the hell did you have to start me on those vodkas?’
‘Why did you have to crash the car?’ I retort, grabbing the water and tablets from him, and taking another two. That makes six already and my hangover is still throbbing.
‘By the way, I’d prefer it if you don’t mention to anyone about me, you know –’ he lowers his voice – ‘doing karaoke.’
‘Oh, you weren’t that bad,’ I tease.
He glowers and has opened his mouth to retaliate when his iPhone starts ringing. ‘That’s my driver,’ he says, glancing at the screen. ‘He’s outside.’
‘Bye.’ I raise my hand in farewell. ‘I hope I don’t see you later.’
‘You won’t,’ he says determinedly. ‘I’ll make sure to forget to send you a Christmas card.’ He throws his bag over his shoulder, then turns sharply and strides off, swallowed up in the bustle of people.
I watch for a moment, barely daring to believe that this is it, he’s really gone for good. Vanished, like a magic trick. I feel a beat of hopeful excitement. After so much false hope, so many false starts, it’s hard to believe he could have finally left me alone. He’s like the boy who cried break-up. But no, he really has disappeared, I reassure myself, looking into the crowd. He’s not coming back.
My body sags with relief. Maybe Nate is right – maybe I was getting carried away by the legend, by all this magic stuff, and spells, and hocus-pocus. Feeling optimistic, I grab my bag from the baggage carousel and with a spring in my step head outside to catch a cab back home. Maybe, finally, this really is the end.
Arriving back at the apartment, I open the door and bump straight into Robyn, who’s rushing manically around the kitchen.
‘Hey! You’re back.’ She grins, giving me a bear hug. ‘How was it?’
‘Interesting,’ I reply, flopping into a chair and kicking off my flip-flops. ‘You’ll never guess what—’
‘Shoot, have you seen my keys?’ she interrupts.
‘Um . . .’ I glance around the kitchen, my eyes flicking over the countertop. ‘No.’
‘Darn,’ she gasps, tapping her foot impatiently.
Her stiletto-clad foot.
I look at it in astonishment. I’ve never seen her wearing anything other than her Havaiana flip-flops, of which she has a dozen pairs in all the colours of the rainbow. She’s so tall and skinny she always says she doesn’t feel the need for heels, but tonight she’s wearing a fabulous pair of gold peeptoes that are to Havaiana flip-flops what a Matisse is to a paint-by-numbers.
‘Are you going out?’ I ask in surprise. Glancing up from her feet, I take her in for the first time and suddenly realise she’s all glammed up. Wearing a long tie-dye dress, which shows off her impressive cleavage, she’s piled her hair on top of her head to show off the most amazing choker. It’s obviously from one of her exotic far-flung travels and is made from hundreds of tiny stones, which glitter and twinkle under the kitchen spotlights.
And there’s me wearing a necklace from Accessorize.
‘Wow, you look amazing,’ I gasp.
She stops rushing around for a moment and stands still in front of me for my approval, so I can get a proper look. ‘Do you think so?’ Nervously she fiddles with her hair. ‘I was thinking maybe it’s a bit much.’
‘No, you look great,’ I say. I’ve never understood why Robyn covers up her figure in baggy clothes, but tonight there’s no mistaking she’s