Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Meanie.” She pouts and puts down her bubble tea, which probably means she’s been wandering around China Town with her mates all day. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Brin says, pulling open the fridge.
“I’m a growing girl,” she protests.
“Yeah, growing dafter.” When the fridge door closes, Brin is holding a beer.
“Make yourself at home,” I mutter.
“Do you want one?”
“Do I want one of my own beers? Chance would be a fine thing.” Despite the building having a shopping service, which operates a bit like the minibar in a hotel with a member of staff checking stock levels daily somehow, I rarely get more than a couple of beers down my throat each week. “To what do I owe this pleasure, anyway?”
“I was shopping and too tired to go home,” Prim says.
“Same,” Brin says, pulling out a bottle opener. “But I’m tired because I haven’t been home since last night.”
“Ew,” Prim exclaims, scrunching her nose. “You dirty fuck boy! I bet you’re wearing the same clothes.”
“Yeah, but to be fair, they’re pretty clean. I was out of them most of the time.”
“Double ew! I can’t believe you got in the elevator with me. I’ve been breathing in your sex particles!”
“Not sure it works like that.”
She swings around and ducks under the kitchen sink. When she stands again, she’s holding a bottle of some kind of organic Febreze alternative. “That’s what they said before Louis Pasteur discovered germ theory.” She begins to spray Brin with the bottle. “Be gone, vile sex particles! Out, damn spot, out!”
“I never let a lady sleep in the damp spot,” he says with a laugh, dodging around the kitchen island.
“You’re such a dirty ho bag!”
“A dirty ho bag the ladies love.” He makes a dash for her, snatching the spray bottle out of her hand. “This suit cost me five grand!” A tussle ensues. Squealing. Tickling. Profanity.
I sigh. There goes my evening.
“Am I ordering Thai for three, or what?” I yell over the din.
“Oh yes, please. I want dumplings,” Prim says, abandoning the sanitation of her brother. “And some of those yummy noodles you got last time.”
“Not for me.” Brin pours half the contents of his beer down his throat. “I’m going out.”
“Burning the candle at both ends.” Prim tsks. “You’ll never make as much money as our illustrious leader.”
“Who’d want to,” he says. “Look at him. At thirty-six, he’s going gray and eating takeout with his little sister on a Saturday night.”
“Someone has to be with him,” Primrose says, not exactly rising to my defense.
“No one has to be with me,” I protest. “I’m not ancient!”
“Besides, I’m his favorite sibling,” Prim continues as though I haven’t spoken.
“Suck-up.” Brin snickers.
“It’s all part of my life plan. I’m going to look after him in his dotage, and then when he dies, he’ll leave all his money to me.”
“Charming.” Neither of them looks my way. “Go ahead,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “Discuss me as though I’m not here.”
“There, there, Leif.” Primrose pats my arm. “Try not to get too wound up. The stress you’re under is already immense.” She grins.
“The stress I’m under is suddenly increasing.”
“It’s all part of the plan,” she says, laughing. “We’ll knock a few more years off your life yet.”
“I’ll cancel your food.”
“No, you won’t,” she says with the kind of smile you see nurses wear in care in retirement homes. “Look, we all know you’re at home on Saturday night because you’re just far too busy mastering the universe to be interested in love.”
“I have a date,” Brin pipes up. “That’s nothing to do with love.”
Primrose spins around. “Don’t make me get the spray bottle again.”
“You might need to take it home with you. Mum’s doing a roast for lunch tomorrow, and I’m not the only one out tonight. El’s bound to turn up reeking of sex particles.” He wiggles his finger in the air as though sex particles were an actual thing.
“Urgh, why are my brothers so gross?”
“Looks like I’ll be leaving my money to the cat and dog’s home.”
“Not you, Leif, obviously. You’re my favorite.” Prim flounces away, snatching up the TV remote as she throws herself into the middle of one of the sofas. “I’m going to catch up on Love Island. Is that all right?”
“Go ahead. They’re your brain cells to lose.”
“I’d rather eat my own feet,” Brin says, lifting his beer bottle to his mouth as the panel concealing the TV begins to slide automatically apart. The monied classes don’t like to admit to owning idiot boxes, it seems, despite there being one in almost every room of this house. Even in the bathrooms.
“Where’s El off to tonight?” I pull out a stool at the kitchen island.
“You mean you don’t know?” He puts the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Would I be asking if I did, arsewipe?”