Quiet in Her Bones by Singh, Nalini (good e books to read txt) 📗

impression of it. Even when I’d had a problem, I’d only ever gotten blind drunk in the privacy of my home.

“You think this means you’re in control?” Paige’s green eyes looking down at me where I sat in the spa, a vodka on the rocks in hand. “Open your eyes, Aarav, or you’ll pickle your liver by the time you’re thirty.”

I should message her, tell her my liver was now safe, ask ­her … What? What was it that I desperately needed to ask Paige?

The thought slipped away, just like the woman who’d inspired it.

Once inside the bar, I got Ginger a cocktail and myself a soda water that’d pass for vodka because that’s what she’d expect it to be. Then I set to charming her. I was very good at ­it—­some would say psychopathically good. Before long, she’d imbibed two strong cocktails and was giggling. I maneuvered the conversation to her work.

Another giggle. “I’m in hospitality.”

“Oh yeah? At a hotel?”

“No, private.” Teeth sinking into her lower lip, she ran her fingers down my lapel. “I’ll be hospitable to you for free though.”

I closed my hand gently over hers. “You have any friends who can join us?”

Another pout. “You like that?”

“Why not? We’re young, sexy, free.”

She leaned in close, the sweet scent of peach schnapps on her breath. “I could make it so good for you that you wouldn’t notice that I was the only one.”

I tucked her hair behind her ear. “I believe that. You’re not even my type.” Gentle words. “I usually go for Asian women. Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese.”

She twisted her lips. “Ugh, seriously? Why are guys like that? It’s creepy, you know. The Asian girls who work with me are totally squicked by it.”

I told the truth for the first time in this entire conversation. “My first lover was half Thai. Maybe that’s why.” Then I ordered her another cocktail.

Well lubricated in the aftermath, she spoke about other things before anger made her return to our earlier discussion. “You’d probably like Lily. She puts out she’s all sexy, but she’s one frigid bitch.”

I stroked her hair. “Who’s Lily?”

Her eyes closed. “Hmm? Lily runs the booking system.” Another giggle.

I continued to stroke her hair as I thought that through. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Instead of driving her myself, I called a cab. I might need help getting her into her apartment. I rode with her all the ­way—­address courtesy of a little tag she had on her keys, and yeah, that was surprising in a woman I’d assumed would be ­street-­smart.

“Wait,” I told the taxi driver when we got to her ­ground-­floor apartment. “Keep the meter running. Here’s my credit card so you know I won’t run off.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Recognize your face. I’ll wait.”

Being recognized could be problematic, but in this case, it was a plus. Should Ginger decide to sell a story to the tabloids about our “wild night” together, I had a witness who’d know it for a lie. Then again, I might let it ­go—­it’d all add to my reputation and fuck with my father’s head.

Ginger wasn’t drunk enough not to be able to walk, though she did lean on me a little too much for my foot. She slid into bed with a seductive smile, but she was snoring by the time I locked up her apartment from the outside, then slipped the key back under the door.

The cabdriver nodded when I got back ­in—­this time in the front passenger seat. “Respect, man. I see too many young fellas go home with trashed ­girls—­and they got that hungry look in their eyes.”

Oh, I’d taken advantage of Ginger. It just hadn’t been sexual. “Comatose women don’t do it for me.”

“Not like the psycho ­house-­husband in your book, right?” the driver said as he pulled away. “I listened to the audio version while waiting for jobs. Chilling shit. How do you even come up with that stuff?”

We spoke about the book and the movie until he dropped me back at the bar. From there, I drove first to Ginger’s Mini, to return the part I’d stolen; she’d helpfully mentioned that the tow truck wouldn’t get there till morning.

My next stop was the Corner ­Café—­which had transformed into Lily’s Bites for the night. It was quietly busy inside, the lighting muted and candles on the limited number of tables. The murmurs went silent when I entered, but then Lily came over to me and her guests seemed to take that as a sign to keep eating and drinking.

Two svelte waitresses moved around, keeping an eye on things and chatting to guests. With Lily, that made three waitstaff for a café with only five tables. And that didn’t include the kitchen staff.

“Aarav.” Lily’s eyes held a question but no irritation. “We’re fully booked, but I can do you a takeaway ­box—­or you can come grab a seat in the kitchen.”

“Actually, I could use a friend. You got a few minutes to talk?”

Lily’s eyes tightened at the corners a little, but she looked around the restaurant before nodding. “Come out back. We can talk in the garden for a couple of minutes.”

She should’ve listened when I’d told her I was a professional liar.

In front of the native plantings was a small patio staff used to sneak cigarettes. The ashtray was a ­terra-­cotta pot concealed behind a camellia blooming a blush pink. Grass grew between the stones that made up the patio.

“I really am sorry about your mum,” she said, her breath a white puff in the cold dark. “She wasn’t my favorite person, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

I angled my body to look her full in the face. The wash of light from the café’s back window was enough for me to see her expression. It appeared sincere. “Why did you fuck my father, Lily?”

26

Lily flinched. “I didn’t.”

“Liar.” It was a soft murmur. “I don’t care by the ­way—­you didn’t belong to me, could be with anyone you wanted, but why the son and