Page 32 of Tears of Glass

“Go away, Tabs.” It’s like tossing a kitten out with the trash, but I truthfully can’t be dealing with this right now. My head won’t allow me.

She gets up without a word and walks away and I fling my arm across my face and try very hard not to think about anything at all.

When I next come around, I wait a moment to check my head hasn’t been hacked off and maybe that’s why it doesn’t hurt so much. I sit up slowly. It’s better. Phew. Someone remind me to never drink wine again. Unfortunately, the sleep has brought back some startlingly clear memories that earlier were blissfully blurry. Elijah following me in his car... trying to give me his ring back...was he off his head on drugs? It’s the only conclusion I can come to.

I remember how I was with Tabitha earlier. I wince a bit as I recall how cruddy I acted towards her this morning—although admittedly I was puking at the time, so I think I can be excused.

I groan when my phone vibrates, the ringtone loud enough for a hard of hearing person to know I’m getting a call.

“Hi.” I try to sound upbeat but it’s not easy. I’m at the point of flatlining on a monitor.

“How was your meeting?” Abi is sprightly, if sounding puffed. I glance at the clock on the wall. Holy crap it’s two in the afternoon. I’ve wasted an entire day.

“Hard to say.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well it was all good for about three minutes until the financial backer turned up.”

“What’s wrong with that? I guess all TV shows need backing, don’t they? Or advertising? Something to make them viable.”

I grimace, not that she can see me. Who made her so bloody sensible. “Yeah.”

“What?” She’s almost panting.

“Seriously Abs, what are you doing?”

“I’m on the treadmill.”

“Okay. So when did this start; you’ve never exercised in your life.”

She tuts and huffs at the same time. “We can’t all be skinny like you. I’ve had two kids.”

“Yeah and you’re gorgeous for it. I can’t imagine ever having a child and being able to fit it inside me.”

“Believe me, they stretch their way in. Anyway, don’t change the subject. What was wrong with the backer, or the money—whatever it is that’s got your back up?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yes, and you know it.”

“It was Elijah.” Gah, even saying his name hurts.

There’s a long stretch of silence. “So the man who three weeks ago broke your heart because he was marrying someone else, is going to back your TV show?” I can almost hear the cogs turning her brain. “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

She’s puffing a bit, so I give her a chance to catch her breath while I go and seek out my cigarettes—I’ve no idea where they are and search and rummage until I finally locate them in the clutch I’d forgotten I had with me when I went for my meeting last night.

“Have you got yourself together yet?” I ask after I’ve sparked up.

“Yeah, so let me get this straight. You went to a meeting and he was there?”

“Yes...”

“Then what?”

I scrub at my face. My skin feels like it should belong to a ninety-year-old woman and I’ve no memory of taking my make up off. Although saying that, I don’t have much memory of putting any on.

“Then we had words, he stomped off, and then I got hideously drunk.”