down for me? My mother probably had someone stash it there.”
“Have I mentioned that your mother’s an ice-cold bitch?”
“I believe you may have mentioned that in passing, yes.” I hold up my cell phone. “At least she finally let me have my phone back. Charged and everything.”
Aislin stands on tiptoe and retrieves the sketchbook. She browses through the pages, holds one up for me to see.
“I love this guy. You’ve been working on him forever.”
“He’s a cartoon. He has no depth. No soul.”
“Screw depth.”
“I can’t get the eyes right.”
“Hmm. Maybe. But he’s got great lips.” She taps her chin with her index finger. “You know, he reminds me a little of what’s-his-name. So-hot.”
“Solo.”
“Needs a body, though. Your drawing, I mean. So-hot’s doing just fine in that department.” She smirks. “If you need suggestions, I can help you finish him. If you know what I mean.”
I ignore her. “Must be genetic. My dad never could do faces, either.”
“But he was a sculptor.”
“Sculpting, drawing. Same problems.” I stare out the window at the undulating hills wreathed in fog. “I remember once he tried to draw my mother. He was using oil pastels, I think. He gave up after a couple tries.”
“Must’ve been tough, capturing Satan on canvas.” Aislin places the sketchbook on my bedside table. “Hey, can you draw, anyway? With your arm all mummied up like that?”
“Nah.” I consider my crushed hand. “Although the way things are going, who knows?”
“So where’s the mini-bar?”
“There’s a fridge in that cabinet with sodas in it.”
Aislin pulls a flask from the back waistband of her shorts. Naturally, security only found the one in her purse: who carries more than one?
She takes a swig and holds the flask out to me. “Cough syrup?”
“You mean vodka?” I ask. I don’t want to show disapproval, I really don’t, because it bothers her when I do and it creates a barrier between us.
“Lemon vodka, cough syrup, who can tell the difference, really?” Aislin asks.
“Tempting,” I say. “But, no.”
“You’re on meds.”
“Plus I don’t really drink.”
“You’ve had beer.”
“Don’t get caught or my mother will ban you. And listen to me, Aislin: I’m all alone in here. I need you.”
She acts tough. But she gets tears in her eyes and gives me a hug. “Don’t worry, no one will keep me away from you,” she says. “Now, let’s go find Mr Bashful. I’ll tell him you like him.”
“I will kill you if you say any such thing!”
“Yeah, right: you’re in a wheelchair. You’re not that scary.”
“There’s something else I want to show you first.”
Aislin steers me toward the door. “What is it?”
“I’m making my own male.”
She frowns. “Mail, like e-mail?”
“Male, like m-a-l-e.”
“You have my full attention, girl.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
