Freaky_girl: переводы

→“Of course,” Rose says. “You know, we’re all starting to wonder if this Luke guy even exists, or if he’s just some guy you’ve made up to make us think you finally got a boyfriend. As if.” Still laughing, Rose opens the sliding glass door and steps out into the cool evening air, not bothering to close it behind her, so all the mosquitoes come buzzing in.

→“He is,” I say. Why can’t I not speak to people I’ve resolved never to speak to again? “He’s helping his uncle set up a new investment office. Not that it’s any of your business. He wanted to come. He’s really sorry. But he can’t leave right now.” And besides. We’re on a break. I don’t mention this to Rose, who doesn’t deserve to know any of my personal business. But it’s true.

→“I don’t know,” Rose says crabbily as she digs through her purse, which she’s left on the kitchen counter next to the sliding glass door to the deck. “I found it on the front porch. Check the card, nimrod.”

→I never even got to say good-bye.

→“Well,” he says. “If you’re Gran, and you have to go, that’s the way to do it.”

→I almost completely believe this as I say it too. To the point that I even manage to convince myself that I have not spent the whole of the party trying not to look over to where Chaz is sitting and wondering how he’s managed to get such a dark tan so early in the summer, or why he insists on wearing khaki shorts. They’re so undignified for the urban male.

→“Because you aren’t helping me,” I say from between gritted teeth. I have to raise my voice a little, because the boom of the fireworks—and the swell of Z100, playing from so many rooftops—is so loud. I notice two leather-braceleted men looking over at us in amusement.

→Z100 is blasting “Born to Run.” Shari’s girlfriend, Pat, is saying, “No. Just…no. Are you kidding me with this?” While Shari says, “Honey, it’s the Boss. What are you gonna do?”

→“Yeah, right,” Tiffany says with a hoarse laugh and takes a swig of her champagne. “Whatever! If he were the marrying kind, you would so have screwed him already. Just admit it.”

→“Zee One Hundred,” Shari screams. “Switch it to Zee One Hundred! We’re missing the musical accompaniment!” She dives for the radio while two dozen people look at her as if she’s lost her mind.

→We hear a muffled boom, and the next thing I know, a huge carnation of light is exploding in the sky.

→“Ooooh!” shrieks Tiffany suddenly, jumping to her four-inch stilettos and pointing into the twilit sky. “They’re starting!”

→“Well,” I say, neurotically shoveling more ice cream into my face, “we’re still engaged. He’s acting like everything is fine.”

→“Admit it,” Shari says with a smile. “They’re the misfit toys, and you’re the island. How are things going with Luke, anyway?”

→“I’m not complaining,” Shari says. “It’s just that if you get any more popular, I may have to move to someplace bigger in order to accommodate all your fans every time I have you over.”

→I wince. The fallout from the Ava situation turned out to be worse than even I could have imagined. The Henris had not been too happy to see the front of their shop in photos plastered all over the press the morning after it was announced Ava Geck’s high-profile royal wedding had been canceled. I’d tried to convince them there was no such thing as bad press, but they hadn’t really gone for it. They couldn’t understand what Ava was doing spending the night in my apartment in the first place. Like Luke, they didn’t think an employee inviting a client to stay with her was particularly professional.

→I didn’t bother reminding her for the millionth time that it doesn’t matter to me who Chaz dates because I’m actually engaged to someone else, because she’d just have brought up, as she usually does, that I’m “on a break,” and people who are happily engaged don’t tend to ask for one of those.

→I don’t mention that Tiffany, in the car service her fiance, Raoul, insisted we share on the way over, had sworn to me that she was going to keep Chaz from making a love connection with “that ho from Shari’s office, because he’s totally right for you. And, furthermore, I am going to split him and that orange-name lady up too.”

→“The girl you’re trying to fix Chaz up with. Is that her?” I point to a pretty girl who has joined Chaz and Valencia over by the beer cooler they’re both sitting beside.

→“So, is that the girl?” I ask between gulps of rocky road.