Coming Home for Christmas
“‘It’s not that bad,’ Alison exclaimed defensively.
‘I’ve been in bigger hotel rooms!’ he scoffed, peering into the tiny kitchen. ‘God, look at the size of your fridge, you wouldn’t fit half a dozen bottles of champers in there.’ ‘Oh, give it a rest, Jon,’ Alison said wearily. ‘I know it’s small, but it’s all I can afford – I’m jobless, remember. No nice fat salary coming in.’ It was the day before she was due to fly home, and her boyfriend had arrived back from LA looking tanned and rested.... He was going to bring her to dinner in Tsar Ivan’s, one of her favourite Russian restaurants, and then they were going clubbing in Recession, a new hip club on the Upper East Side. He had a Town Car waiting outside. He was dressed in a grey Armani suit with a ruby-red shirt open at the neck. A real LA playboy outfit, she reflected as she slipped on a black cashmere coat that had cost an arm and a leg and picked up a cream-silk hand-painted scarf to wrap around her neck.MoreLess
‘I’ve been in bigger hotel rooms!’ he scoffed, peering into the tiny kitchen. ‘God, look at the size of your fridge, you wouldn’t fit half a dozen bottles of champers in there.’ ‘Oh, give it a rest, Jon,’ Alison said wearily. ‘I know it’s small, but it’s all I can afford – I’m jobless, remember. No nice fat salary coming in.’ It was the day before she was due to fly home, and her boyfriend had arrived back from LA looking tanned and rested.... He was going to bring her to dinner in Tsar Ivan’s, one of her favourite Russian restaurants, and then they were going clubbing in Recession, a new hip club on the Upper East Side. He had a Town Car waiting outside. He was dressed in a grey Armani suit with a ruby-red shirt open at the neck. A real LA playboy outfit, she reflected as she slipped on a black cashmere coat that had cost an arm and a leg and picked up a cream-silk hand-painted scarf to wrap around her neck.MoreLess
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