Free Good at Games by Jill Mansell Page B

falling for her nonsense hook, line, and sinker—oh well, he was a man ; what could you expect?—and topped off her wineglass from the bottle of Pouilly-Fumé Jaz had opened for her.
    Harry, needless to say, had taken the diplomatic route and settled for coffee.
    â€œDon’t worry about Suzy. She does it on purpose,” Celeste told Harry as the neck of the bottle clunked against Suzy’s glass. “She loves to goad us. I think it must give her a cheap thrill.”
    â€œPouilly-Fumé?” Suzy raised an eyebrow. “Hardly cheap.”
    In Celeste’s favor, at least there was no pretense, no shilly-shallying around. Since she made no secret of her disdain for Suzy, they were free to taunt each other with abandon. Suzy enjoyed these insult-flinging sessions immensely; she just wished Jaz wouldn’t roar with laughter at the pair of them and call them his double act.
    â€œAnyway,” she went on, “after being married to Jaz for two years, I deserve a few thrills. And why shouldn’t I have a drink? We don’t all have to suffer for the rest of our lives, do we, just because you two are on the wagon?”
    â€œIf someone were about to throw themselves off the Suspension Bridge,” Celeste said to Harry, “she’d help them over the barrier.”
    â€œThis is the real world,” said Suzy. “People do drink. You either lock yourselves away from temptation or get used to it.”
    â€œShe has no idea.” Celeste gave Harry’s arm a consoling pat. “Take no notice. It’s sheer ignorance.”
    â€œOh, this is good.” Suzy seized on this with glee. “You’re the one who thinks Tuesday is spelled with a ch and I’m the one who’s ignorant! Plus ,” she went on, “if Jaz doesn’t want his guests drinking in front of him, why does he keep alcohol in the house?”
    Harry’s head was swiveling between Suzy and Celeste like a one-man Wimbledon audience. Jaz, standing in front of the fireplace, grinned broadly and let them get on with it.
    â€œYou should try giving the drink a rest yourself,” Celeste told Suzy. “All that extra weight would just drop off you, I’m sure.”
    â€œWhat a coincidence, I was just thinking the same thing,” Suzy retaliated sweetly, “about you and mascara.”
    Because Celeste went through gallons of the stuff. Gallons .
    Harry, leaping gamely into the breach like the good police officer he was, said, “So, Celeste, do you work?”
    â€œMe? Heavens, no!” Celeste laughed prettily. “Being Jaz’s girlfriend is a full-time job.”
    â€œIn other words,” said Suzy, “she’s bone idle.”
    Even Jaz couldn’t let this pass.
    â€œYou mean unlike you,” he commented drily, “who worked like a Trojan throughout our marriage.”
    â€œThat was different,” Suzy shot back. “You were drunk all the time! You needed looking after.”
    â€œAnd you were Florence Nightingale?” Celeste turned to her in triumph. “From what I’ve heard, all you ever did was eat chocolate and go shopping. Although frankly, I’m amazed you could ever find clothes big enough to fit you.”
    Harry coughed loudly and began to look alarmed.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Jaz reassured him. “They’re always like this. So where did you two go tonight?”
    Clearly relieved to hear a sane voice, Harry said, “The Pineapple Bar.”
    â€œTo see Lucille,” Suzy chimed in. “She was working there.”
    â€œReally? Doing what?”
    â€œBartender,” Harry said swiftly.
    â€œI suppose she drinks as well.” Celeste sounded pitying. “I don’t know. I just wish people could realize there’s more to life.”
    â€œLike wrapping ribbons around their heads and trying to pass themselves off as boxes of chocolates?” said Suzy. “Actually, she