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I could honestly kill my sister.
I type back a quick reply, otherwise Mum will call me, and I really don’t need George — the tailor’s — hands anywhere close to my nether region.
Me
A little over the top, don’t you think?
Mum and Layne are both avid texters, though sometimes when my mother is on a roll, it never fucking ends.
I see the grey bubble appear and I sigh. George looks up at me and I roll my eyes. He’s used to me.
“My mother,” I explain.
He nods, a little sympathy in his look.
Mum
That’s not a very positive attitude, Alistair
Uh, oh, she’s using my first name. Excellent.
Mum
You know, your sister and I have put a lot of effort into this party and you could act a little more enthusiastic
Me
THANKS MUM. YOU’RE THE BEST! ?????? Is that better?
Mum
There’s no need for sarcasm. I should’ve known. Layne tried to warn me.
Me
That I hate parties? Not exactly hiding it
Mum
Darling, I know you don’t like the idea of getting older…
I laugh. Is that what it is?
Mum
But age is just a number… how is Jennifer?
I groan, earning me another look from George. “Stand up straight please, Mr. Devereaux.”
“Right, sorry,” I say, my patience growing thin.
Mother keeps trying to thrust Jennifer on me. She’s from an affluent family, and my mum and her mum are good friends. In her mind, it’d be a perfect match. The only thing is, I don’t want to fuck any of my mother’s friends’ daughters.
That can never be a good thing. Not with my track record.
The last thing I want is my sexual escapades — and my inability to remember to call the next day — publicised to my mother of all people.
Of course, she wants grandbabies. And at forty-five, she’s still hanging on for dear life. I think she knows deep down it’s not going to happen, but she still has hope.
