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Run – Chapter 3
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”I hate rain. This rain.” Kenzi fiddled with the hardback book in her hand, mindlessly flipping through the pages of this edition, which, like the hundreds of other tomes in their living room, reeked of dust and to the touch evoked a dampness earned over time and general neglect. ”I miss the hotel. Room service, cable porn.” Indeed, the continual staccato of the rain as well as the charcoal of the sky, conspired against any thoughts of going outside without a heavy coat, wellingtons, and an umbrella—and Kenzi did not do rubber boots. She was as disconsolate as an empty bottle of gin and the ’closed’ sign of a pub.
”Cable porn?” Lauren didn’t bother to look up from the double wide secretary desk on the other side of the library. ”And I’m sorry about my condition. It’s not like I wanted this to happen to me.”
”When you’re right, you’re right.”
While Kenzi had only pretended to be interested in the book whose pages she’d been fanning for nearly a quarter hour, Lauren had been immersed in hers—a first edition of the collected short stories of Colette. It fascinated her that the author had written under a male pseudonym until she came out as a female, a revelation that not only increased her popularity but also spelled the demise of her marriage. A woman, after all, should never be more influential than her husband, or so society had dictated so long ago. Her mind shot to Rainer, smug, imagining him pressing against Bo and doing all sorts of things to her body, things that she should be doing, not him. Bo had never come across as submissive until he came along, Rainer, what an asshole. Shake it off, Lewis. Stop it now.
”You’ve heard nothing that I’ve said all day,” Kenzi put the book back on the shelf. Their flat, in a former life, had been the top floor of a library. The rooms which they occupied now—two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, the library, a kitchen, and a mahogany-colored room for dining—somehow escaped a 21st century renovation both to its detriment and charm. Flaking wallpaper, irregular heat, talkative pipes, and the faint smell of iron reminded them of the clubhouse. Lauren had found the place online. Strangely, too, that she’d even bothered to look since she the idea of their future barely extended beyond a few hours; leasing a flat intimated commitment, plans, roots—none of which interested her or Kenzi. However, the pictures of the flat lured her in. They never met the owner—the entire exchange, money, keys, short-term lease—happened in virtual territory. It was perfect. No face-to-face meeting. Fewer lies to tell.
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omg yes you can kenzi go home now before its to late this was great I love how evony was dark right to the end.