Well, I guess, by Fi's record, they do. Debs confessed that the only word she can use without cracking up during sex is hot. So all she ever says is “I'm hot.” “You're so hot.” “This is really hot.” Mind you, when you're as stunning as Debs, I wouldn't think you'd need much of a repertoire. Carolyn has been with Matt for a million years and declared she never talks in bed at all except to say “ow” or “higher,” or once, as he was about to come, “Oh crap, I left my hair straighteners on.“ I don't know if she really meant it; she's got a pretty quirky sense of humor, just like Matt. They're both superbrightalmost geekybut cool with it. When we're all out together the two of them throw so many insults at each other, it's hard to know if they're ever serious. I'm not sure even they know. Then it was my turn, and I told the truth, which is that I compliment the guy. Like, with Loser Dave, I always say ”You have beautiful shoulders“ and ”You have such beautiful eyes.“ I didn't admit that I say these things because I'm always secretly hoping to hear back from a guy that I'm beautiful too. Nor did I admit that it's never yet happened. Anyway. Whatever. ”Hey, Lexi.“ I look up to see that Fi has unsuckered herself from the cute guy. She ducks under my denim jacket and gets out a lipstick. ”Hi,“ I say, blinking rainwater off my lashes. ”Where's lover boy gone?“ ”To tell the girl he came with that he's leaving.”
“Fi!” “What?” Fi looks unrepentant. “They're not an item. Or much of one.” She carefully redoes her mouth in pillar-?box red. “I'm getting a whole new load of makeup,” she says, frowning at the blunt end of the lipstick. “Christian Dior, the whole lot. I can afford it now!” “You should!” I nod, trying to sound enthusiastic. A moment later Fi looks up with realization. “Oh, bollocks. Sorry, Lexi.” She puts an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “You should have got a bonus. It's not fair.” 6 “It's fine.” I try to smile. “Next year.” “You okay?” Fi narrows her eyes at me. “You want to go for a drink or anything?” “No, I need to get to bed. I've got an early start in the morning.” Fi's face clears suddenly and she bites her lip. “Jesus. I forgot all about that, too. What with the bonuses and everything... Lexi, I'm sorry. This is a really shit time for you.” “It's fine!” I say at once. “It's... I'm trying not to make it a huge deal.” No one likes a whinger. So somehow I make myself smile brightly, just to show I'm fine with being the snagglytoothed, stood-?up, no-?bonus girl whose dad just died. Fi is silent for a moment, her green eyes glittering in the passing headlights. “Things'U turn around for you,” she says. “You think?” “Uh-?huh.” She nods, with more energy. “You just have to believe it. Come on.” She squeezes me. “What are you, woman or walrus?” Fi's been using that expression since we were both fifteen, and it makes me smile every time. “And you know what?” she adds. “I think your dad would have wanted you to turn up to his funeral hungover.” She met my dad a couple of times. She's probably right. “Hey, Lexi.” Fi's voice is suddenly softer, and I brace myself. I'm in a pretty edgy mood as it is, and if she says something nice about my dad, I might cry. I mean, I didn't know him that well or anything, but you only get one dad “Do you have a spare condom?” Her voice pierces my thoughts. Right. So I probably didn't need to worry about the sympathy overload.
“Just in case,” she adds with a wicked grin. “I mean, we'll probably just chat about world politics or whatever.” “Yeah. I'm so sure.” I root around inside my green birthday-?present Accessorize bag for the matching coin purse and produce a Durex, which I discreetly hand to her. “Thanks, babe.” She kisses me on the cheek. “Listen, d'you want to come to mine tomorrow night? After it's all over? I'll make spaghetti carbonara.” “Yeah.” I smile gratefully. “That would be great. I'll call you.” I'm already looking forward to it. A plate of delicious pasta, a glass of wine, and telling her all about the funeral. Fi can make the grimmest things seem funny...I know we'll end up in stitches. “Hey, there's a taxi! Taxiii!” I hurry to the edge of the pavement as the cab pulls up and beckon to Debs and Carolyn, who are screeching out “Dancing Queen.” Carolyn's glasses are spattered with raindrops, and she's about five notes ahead of Debs. “Hi there!” I lean through the window to the taxi driver, my hair dripping down my face. “Could you possibly take us first to Balham, and then” “Sorry, love, no karaoke.” The taxi driver cuts me off with a baleful glance at Debs and Carolyn. I stare at him, confused. “What d'you mean, no karaoke?” “I'm not 'aving them girls in 'ere, doin' me 'ead in with their bloody singing.” He has to be joking. You can't ban people for singing. “But” “My cab, my rules. No drunks, no drugs, no karaoke.” Before I can reply, he puts the taxi into gear and roars away down the road. “You can't have a 'no karaoke' rule!” I shout after the 8 cab in outrage. "It's... discrimination! It's against the law!
