I Never Fancied Him Anyway Read Online Free Page B

1990s.’
    ‘I’m sorry, sweetie, but it’s hardly a tragedy.’
    ‘Cassie, I want you to ignore the Tipsy Queen over there,’ he says, ‘and just tell me if you see a knight in shining Armani in my future. I don’t ask for much out of this life, all I want is to be in a deep, committed, loving relationship, for . . . ooh, I dunno, about a week or so.’
    ‘I wish I could,’ I say, slurping away on a half-empty glass of champagne, all thoughts of my deadline gone right out of the window, ‘but I’m never able to see things when I’m a bit over my limit. You know, like the way you can’t drive or operate heavy machinery when you’re pissed, you can’t make psychic predictions either. Sorry, hon.’
    ‘Yeah, now drink your dinner and leave her alone,’ laughs Jo, my best friend and flatmate. ‘Cassie’s not a performing seal that turns tricks on demand. Besides, the week’s only just started; you know perfectly well you’ll be back in the saddle by the weekend, you big manaholic. Try walking in my shoes for a bit and you’ll appreciate how good you have it. Humpback whales do it more than me.’
    ‘Congratulations, Jo,’ says Charlene from where she’s now slumped into her armchair. ‘I think you just found the title for your autobiography.’
    Everyone cracks up laughing and we order another round. Tonight’s turned into one of those completely spontaneous evenings that are always far more fun than anything planned and I’m so glad Jo’s popped in for a few drinks on her way home from work.
    Let me tell you a bit about Jo. She’s probably as different from Charlene as you can get, both physically and personality-wise. Sharper than a chilli finger poked in your eye and smart as a whip, she’s dry-as-a-bone funny, the sort of woman who should be awarded a black belt in tongue-fu. Honestly, she can have you doubled over with some of her one-liners, although God help you if you find yourself on the receiving end of her merciless teasing, as Charlene frequently does. Looks-wise, she’s small and naturally pretty with croppy light brown hair which I cut for her (badly) as she point blank refuses to set foot inside a hairdresser’s until Tibet is free. To give you a quick mental picture, if ever they were casting for a Jodie-Foster’s-little-sister type, then Jo’s your woman. A fundraiser for Amnesty Ireland, she’s also hard-working, intense, disciplined, deeply passionate about human rights and with a social conscience that Nelson Mandela would be proud of.
    Put it this way: whereas Jo’s personal belief system is that the lack of political will to regulate the arms trade is a major contributory factor to the abuse of human rights in the world, Charlene’s is that if Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie can’t make peace, then what possible hope is there for the Middle East? Jo spends her Saturdays doing voluntary work in our local Oxfam; whereas Charlene believes that wearing second-hand clothes can give you hepatitis. Generous to a fault, Jo would give you her last red cent whereas Charlene practically makes you leave your driver’s licence if you dare to borrow anything belonging to her. Two full rooms in her house are devoted to her clothes, which are categorized according to season/day and season/night (not to even get started on her shoe collection, which is stored in a separate walk-in closet approximately the size of our living room), whereas poor old Jo still has the same battered pair of jeans she’s been wearing for about five years now.
    Don’t get me wrong, I love them both dearly, but you couldn’t find two women more diametrically opposed to each other, although Jo still has a sort of crusading zeal to reform Charlene. (Without much success; so far she hasn’t even managed to get her to switch to coffee with the Fairtrade logo.)
    Anyway, back to the Odessa bar.
    ‘Do you realize,’ says Marc with a C, sighing, ‘that for the first time since I can remember, all four of us are