Read Online It's Not You It's Me by Allison Rushby - Free Book Online Page B

every second person will have because they just bought it on sale at the same place I did.’
    ‘Should be easy to find.’
    I turn away from the carousel for a moment. ‘It shouldn’t come out for a while yet. It’s packed away in the seventh layer of hell. That’s just below the sixth layer of hell, where I was sitting before the divine videotape clunked me on the head and I landed in heaven.’
    Jas sighs. ‘Come on. Economy’s not that bad.’
    I give him a look. ‘Do you even remember it?’
    He shrugs.
    ‘Close your eyes for a moment,’ I say.
    He gives me the look back.
    ‘No, I mean it.’ I reach up and cover his eyes with one of my hands. ‘Now, try and remember what economy’s like.’
    ‘I’ve only been on domestic flights in economy.’
    ‘What a problem. OK, then. Imagine that. Imagine being on a flight between Sydney and Melbourne or something.’
    ‘Uh-huh. Got it.’
    ‘Great. Now, seat a big, fat, smelly man beside you on one side, who constantly hogs the armrest, and a reluctant female flyer with chronic airsickness on the other. Add a movie you’ve already seen and hated and a touch of cramp and sleeplessness and multiply it all by approximately twenty-two hours.’ Then I take my hand away.
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘Now tell me it’s not that bad, considering you’re supposed to be on holiday .’
    ‘Get your point.’
    ‘Thank you.’ I do a mock curtsey. ‘I do what I can for the rich and famous.’
    I turn my attention back to the carousel, which has started spewing out the economy bags, most of which are something like mine. I’m suddenly thankful for the fluorescent pink ribbon Mark, a seasoned traveller, tied to the handle late last night, as I can now see it attached to my bag, trundling down the carousel.
    ‘There it is,’ I say to Jas, and take a step forward to jostle my way to the front of the crowd in order to retrieve it. At least it’s here, I think to myself as I see it. I’ve heard stories about bags going on holiday to Bermuda without their owners.
    Jas stops me then. ‘It’s OK. I’ll get it.’
    ‘My hero,’ I say, pointing out the pink ribbon.
    I watch as he grabs the handle and goes to pull it off the carousel. But as he does there’s a confused look and a harder pull before he’s able to set it down on the ground and lug it towards me.
    ‘What’ve you got in there?’
    ‘Clothes. Half of which I won’t wear because I’m a terrible packer. It’s something I’ve come to live with. Doesn’t seem to matter where I go or for how long.’
    ‘Better you than me.’
    I smile, glancing at his jacket. Something tells me he’s not going to be doing much shopping in London. As for me…
    I can’t make any such promises, budget or no budget.
    Bags in hand, we stand around a bit now, knowing that this is the end of the road, but neither of us wanting to make the first move to go. I think about asking Jas if he wants to meet up again for dinner tonight, but then decide against it. He’ll have other things to do. Famous people things. He’s probably staying at the Savoy, or the Ritz or something, and the closest I’ll get to those hotels is if the kleptomaniac in me feels the urge to steal a pack of matches.
    ‘I guess…’
    ‘Well…’
    Jas puts his bag down and gives me a hug. ‘Have a great time,’ he says. ‘With your sausages and sauerkraut.’
    I make a face. ‘I’m planning on keeping my stomach a sausage and sauerkraut-free zone. You have a wonderful holiday. It sounds like you need it.’
    Jas makes a face as well. ‘Yeah. I’ll try.’ He hands me something then. A business card. ‘So you can call me. Mobile works here.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I say. But somehow I don’t think I will. I’d just look…desperate. As if I was only interested in him now that he’s famous. After all, I didn’t return his calls for the last two years, why else would I start now? ‘So, um—bye, then.’ I go to turn, but Jas lunges forward and bends down to my