Read The Sex Was Great But... for Free Online Page B

course.
    â€œThis is so random,” I said for, like, the tenth time, wrapping my arms around my torso.
    â€œTell me about it,” said Leo, nodding.
    â€œYour face is a mess man,” his colleague pointed out pointlessly. “Whadja let that guy smack you like that for, you big girl’s blouse?”
    I looked at the guy like he was filth. Leo was the hero here. And yet all his horrible colleague could do was berate him. So how come it’s me that the national press thinks is lacking in depth?
    â€œI don’t think anything’s broken, at least,” I offered. “I mean, I think it will most likely heal in time.” I think I’d heard someone on ER say something like this.
    Rather sweetly, Leo assured me that his act of bravery was “nothing” and told me that I didn’t have to wait around. “I’ll be all right in a bit,” he promised stoically, taking my cardigan away from his nose. It was still bleeding.
    Any way you looked at this situation, this guy had acted as my White Knight. I really did want to repay him. Even if his nose wasn’t broken, it was badly bruised, and his right eye was all puffed up as well. He looked like a character off a made-for-TV thriller.
    â€œIt would make me feel a lot better if we went to the E.R…. I mean I’d pay, obviously,” I said, trying not to think what the press would make of me turning up with a beggar with a broken nose at Cedars-Sinai hospital.
    â€œErh! Gross!” I heard a trendy teenage girl in a Hello Kitty T-shirt mutter as she stepped over our little group to cross the road. “I hate these street scum. They get drunk and beat each other up. It’s really bad news.”
    I looked up, horrified that I had just been classified as street scum by a member of my target audience. The guy I wasn’t warming to called out to them, asking if they had any spare change to get his mate to the E.R. He was so appalling.
    Sensing my disgust, he grinned at me wickedly. “Yeah, sorry about your diaphragm and all, but this is office hours for us, if you get my drift. So, much as we’d love to chat, we’d better get back to fucking work if we’re going to have anything to drink tonight.” Then he slapped my White Knight on the back. “Come on, Leo man, look lively!”
    â€œWork?” I spluttered, shocked that I’d got my stereotypes so wrong. Maybe I was the shallowest, most judgmental girl in the world. “You actually work? ”
    â€œFuck off. Course we work. What, you think it’s a fucking leisure activity, standing around this shite corner in the fucking heat in these get-ups? Breathing in the carbon dioxide and groveling for bollocky bits of spare change from stuck-up wanker yuppies like you?” the offensive beggar spat.
    I was really offended that he thought I was a stuck-up wanker yuppie—whatever they were. Trying to be agreeable, I acknowledged that it probably wasn’t that nice, and hugged my knees even tighter.
    â€œYou know something?” he said, crouching low so he could stare into my face. “I was thinking this before, but you fucking look really familiar—don’t she, Leo?”
    Hugging my knees into my rib cage so hard it hurt, I suddenly remembered that we were right by the bus stop with the ad for my show on it. I so didn’t want to get into a discussion about myself with this guy.
    â€œFuck, I’ve got it now,” he declared, and my face froze over at the imminent exposure of what he was about to say. This whole sorry episode was about to be the National Enquirer ’s lead-in. “Holly Klein—Street Scum.” I know it’s shallow to think of things that happen in terms of headlines, but it’s part of being a celebrity. PR is part of the high school curriculum in this town.
    â€œYeah…I got it. You was in Seattle last year on the Kill the Rich riot werncha?”
    I shook my