Just My Luck Adele Parks (if you liked this book txt) 📖

and glasses. She carefully pours a glass and then hands it to my dad.

Adults are un-fucking-believable.

Mum stands up and steps away from Dad. I suppose she thinks it’s over and he’s safe now, but Patrick grabs my dad by the collar of his suit and hauls him to his feet. Dad is struggling to breathe properly, winded by the punch, but he tries to appear ballsy. “Easy, easy friend,” he says, putting up his hands in appeasement, showing the room he is surrendering. That he is reasonable and wronged. I look around in desperation. Why isn’t anyone helping? Patrick tightens his grip, shakes Dad viciously, a bit the way a terrier shakes a rat.

“We are not friends,” he insists. He draws his fist back and I think he’s going to hit Dad, too. Fred’s punch was shocking, it took Dad down because he was not expecting it. I fear Patrick will land something far more malicious and damaging. He’s a stocky man. Right now, he looks like a brutal little barrel that could roll over anything in his path and destroy it. His face is contorted with a filthy anger. I scream, everyone turns to look at me. They seem surprised that Logan and I are here. I think they’d forgotten about us. As though I’ve pulled them to their senses, the hotel manager dashes out of the room. I hope he’s gone for help.

“Stop it, please. Let go of him,” begs Logan, who’s crying now.

“This is what you get if you mess around with the big boys,” snarls Patrick. “You should know that.” I think Patrick is talking to Logan, but his eyes are on Dad.

At that moment, Gillian enters the room. The hotel manager is hovering at her side, unsure what to do with himself. I want to be sick.

“Let go of him at once or I shall call the police,” Gillian instructs.

“Why don’t you do that?” bluffs Patrick, but he does immediately step away from Dad. Logan and I run to him, wrap ourselves around him.

“Lexi, Jake. I’ve called you a lawyer, she’ll be here in twenty minutes,” says Gillian.

“Oh, I don’t think we need lawyers, do we?” chips in Jennifer. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” snaps Mum. “How was your trip to Fred’s sister’s last weekend?” Jennifer holds Mum’s gaze, but doesn’t answer her. Mum turns to Fred. “Your wife told me you were going away but that’s not true, is it? You didn’t go away.” Fred looks confused, unsure how to answer.

“Is that why you are lying about the syndicate?” Carla asks. She doesn’t seem fazed by the fact her husband has just acted like a basic thug. I mean, it was so outrageous, so disgusting! Why isn’t she more riled? She just continues interrogating Mum.

“Your feelings are hurt because they didn’t invite you to dinner one particular night and so now you are trying to cut us out of the syndicate. Lie about us. Steal millions from us.”

“No!” says Mum hotly. “Well, yes.”

“Yes, you are lying!” Patrick throws a triumphant look Gillian’s way. “Well done for admitting it, Lexi, now let’s get this sorted out fairly.”

“No, no, I am not lying. I’m just saying yes, my feelings are hurt. You left the syndicate. You are not our friends. I know you for what you are.” Mum isn’t shouting, but she looks wrecked, I’m pretty sure she might cry any minute.

Gillian puts her hand on Mum’s arm. “Okay, Lexi, Jake, I am advising you to stop talking until your lawyer gets here and we can get to the bottom of this.”

“You think you can get away with this?” demands Dad, ignoring Gillian to the max.

“We’re just claiming what’s rightfully ours. We’re not trying to get away with anything,” says Carla primly.

“But you pulled out of the lottery. You said it was common,” stutters Mum. I can hear the righteous indignation in her voice, but I wonder if other people will recognize it as that or just think she sounds a bit squawky.

“That’s not how we remember it,” says Patrick with a sneer. “I’m surprised at you, Lexi. Him—” he points at my dad “—him I expect this sort of low thing, but not you.”

“Lexi bought the ticket,” insists Dad.

“There was an implied contract,” argues Fred. He stares right at Dad. “I am owed a great deal.” He is the color of a tomato, most probably this is because he is lying. I don’t imagine that comes easily to Ridley’s dad, but somehow the color works in his favor. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was pretty sincere. “You may have actually purchased the ticket, Lexi, but there was a kitty. We all chipped in, as usual.”

It’s unbelievable. I watch as my parents’ former friends all manage to pull their faces into complicated expressions that somehow communicate their regret and disappointment in Mum! They look totally innocent and credible. Honestly, they must have been rehearsing this! Mum looks like she wants to pull her hair out in fists, she probably wants to bang their heads against the wall—I know I do. The lying, thieving con artists!

Mum turns to Dad, collapses against his chest, she’s becoming increasingly unstable, hysterical. She bursts into frustrated tears and yells, “Just because you say a thing often enough doesn’t make it true.”

And I think of Ridley. His hand on the inside of my thigh. His chest rising and falling, as he took in fast, excited breaths, pushed them out again, as we moved together. I know what I’m doing, we’re safe.

I’ve never felt more alone. My mum is right. Just because you say a thing often enough does not make it true.

CHAPTER 12

Lexi

Tuesday, April 30

The room is full of suited and booted men and women. It’s a small space, airless. Too many expensive perfumes and aftershaves clash up against each other. It’s cloying. They all flash me efficient, practiced smiles that are so brief they have gone before they’ve fully arrived. They hold out their hands