Beach Bodies: Part One

‘I love airports,’ Tommy muses.

‘Oh yeah. Totes love. It’s the independence. It’s totes adulting,’ she says.

Tommy says, ‘It’s the possibility of everything. Where’s he going? And him? And him?’ The last man Tommy points at has to take evasive action to avoid getting poked in the eye. Dyspraxia. ‘Who’s waiting for him wherever he’s going? And why does he look so good? Like a model.’

‘I’ve actually done a bit of modelling—’

‘Everyone’s classy in airports. Everything’s cleaner. People are formal, admirable, sexual. Everywhere should be an airport.’

Tabs leaves a silence to adjust her approach to this new contemplative side of him.

‘You’d have loved my grandad. He used to dress up for travel, wore a three-piece suit, every time. Always smelt of some dark scent. So handsome, even at 60.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me. Cos most people are only classy in airports, but you, you’re classy everywhere, Tabs,’ he twinkles.

She blushes.

Then he checks his Storm watch. ‘Least for the approximately… 131 minutes I’ve known you.’

Two hours on final audition day. Eleven minutes today.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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