Читать книгу Quick Kills - Lynn Lurie - Страница 14

The Photographer and I shower in my parent’s bathroom just one time. Afterwards, I don’t know where to take him, so we go to dinner at the same restaurant we went to as a family on Sunday nights. Mother and Father would sit on the opposite side of the three of us. It always happened that Jake had to switch seats with Mother because he and Helen fought.

The Photographer is soon on his third bourbon.

I can’t eat what I always order, a small steak served on white bread where the blood from the meat turns the bread a brownish red. It had always been my favorite part of the meal, the doused bloody bread.

When we return as a family I tell the waiter steamed mussels. Mother notices but doesn’t ask why. I wish she had asked.