79
Chris
Ipress play on the DVD, waiting for Evan to sit down next to me. I chose the film tonight:Collateral Beauty. I need to feast my eyes on Will Smith for an hour or so, just to get through another night without him.
“You’re missing it!”
“I’m coming, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Can you stop just standing there at the window? It’s making me nervous.”
Evan pulls the curtains closed and looks at his watch again.
“What is it? Are you waiting for someone?”
“Who, me?”
I look at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Are you hiding something from me?”
“I’m not…”
The doorbell saves him.
“Go on, then, open it, seeing as you’re already up.”
“Why don’t you open it?”
“Jesus, what’s wrong with you today?” I get up from the sofa and go to open the front door: when I do, I slam it shut again immediately in his stupid face.
“Christine!”
“Fuck off, O’Connor!”
“Afterwards, if you want, I’ll fuck off. But please, just open this door now and let me explain.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do I have to break the door down?”
“Everyone stop,” Evan says, approaching me. “We really don’t need a broken front door right now,” he concludes, opening it and letting him in.
“You little…”
“At least someone in this house has a brain,” Ryan says, stepping inside with his brothers in tow.
“What is this? Some kind of awful special delivery?”
“More or less,” Nick says, his arms laden with tins of paint.
Ian’s carrying two duffel bags, and they’re both wearing white jumpsuits.
Evan bursts out laughing, but Nick shuts him up straight away,
“There’s one for you, too, kid!”
“Fuck.”
