Apocalipstick (28 page)

“You know something?” he said. “I do too.”

Max and Rebecca dropped Rose at Semi Colon’s.

“You know,” Max said later, as they lay beside each other on Rebecca’s pink sofa, “that could be us one of these days.”

“What, with colostomy bags?”

“No, you dope. Pregnant. After we get married, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” She was giggling quietly to herself.

He turned toward her. “You do want to get married, don’t you?”

“I can think of nothing I’d like more,” she said, snuggling up to him and kissing him on the cheek.

“Good. That’s settled, then. And babies? You want them, too, don’t you? I mean ideally I’d like three.”

“O-kaaay,” she said. “Would that be all at once or one at a time?”

“All at once would be more convenient. I mean, then you get all the grotty baby stuff out of the way in one go, but if you can’t manage it, one at a time would be fine.”

“Right, just so long as I know.”

He was sitting up. “Oh, God, I’m not assuming too much, am I? I wouldn’t dream of forcing the baby issue. After all, I have got Amy.”

She looked at him. The truth was she’d never given babies more than the occasional thought until this moment. “Well, it won’t be easy with my job and everything, but, yes, a couple of years from now, I can definitely see us with a baby. Mind you, I think Amy will have a few words to say about it.”

“Nah. Even though she plays up whenever I get a girlfriend, she’s been desperate for a baby brother or sister for ages. Her mother doesn’t want any more, so it’s down to me.”

He began stroking her hair and planting tiny kisses on her face.

“I am so in love with you,” she said, bringing her lips toward his.

Just then the door buzzer went.

“God, what now?” Rebecca groaned, pulling herself up. She left Max on the sofa and went to the door.

It was Jess, bubbling over with excitement. “Look, I just had to come round. I’m desperate to hear all about you and Max. Lipstick told me how she got the two of you back together. God, was the makeup sex brilliant? I want all the details.”

She hadn’t seen Max standing in the hall.

“Hi, Jess.”

She jumped. Then she turned bright red. “Max. Hi. I don’t know why, but I didn’t think you’d be here. Look, if you guys want some privacy, perhaps I’d better . . .”

“Don’t be daft. Come on in,” Rebecca said, leading her into the living room.

“Oh, and guess what?” Jess said, “We’ve sorted out Ed’s willy-nilly once and for all. We know what really caused it.”

“But you already know,” Rebecca said. “Ed was JFK and got rejected by Marilyn Monroe.”

“Come again?” Max piped up.

The two women ignored him.

“No, Ed was never JFK. We both think you’re right about that Gwen woman. She’s just a charlatan who messes with people’s heads. The thing is, Ed went back to the doctor this morning and got the result of his blood test. And it turns out he’s got an underactive thyroid. Isn’t that just
the
best news?”

“Terrific,” Rebecca said. “Assuming something can be done about it.”

“He’s got some pills to take. It’s only ever-so-slightly underactive, but it explains the willy-nilly. And the doctor says he should be back to normal in a few weeks.”

“Wow,” Rebecca said, “you’ll have to take a second honeymoon.”

“Yes,” Max said, “you could come with us.”

“What? You two? You’re . . . ?”

“Yep,” Rebecca said. “We’re getting married.”

“Oh, guys.” Jess’s eyes were full of tears. “Come here and give me a hug.”

“You know,” Rebecca said after Jess had gone, “I think my ribs are actually bruised from all the hugging that’s gone on today.”

Max was barely listening. “You don’t think Jess thought I was serious about her and Ed coming on honeymoon with us, do you? I mean, I love Jess and I’m sure I’d like Ed, but it will be our honeymoon.”

“Too late,” Rebecca said. “As she was leaving she said she’d send off for some brochures. She fancies the Maldives.”

“Shit.”

“Joking,” Rebecca said, bashing him with a cushion.

“Thank God for that.”

“No, she really fancies the Caribbean.”

They were in the middle of the most fantastic snog when the phone rang.

“Leave it,” Max commanded.

“I can’t. Something could have happened to Dad.”

She picked the phone up off the coffee table.

“Sorry? Who?” she said, sitting up and frowning. “Omigod, Prime Minister. Yes, Charlie mentioned you might phone. . . .Yes, it did work out well . . . yes, I’m delighted too . . . what, this evening? Yes, I think I can make it. No, it’s not a problem. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Jeez,” Max said. “That was the PM?”

She nodded.

“He was phoning to thank me for saving the African peace deal and now I’ve got to go and pack an overnight bag.”

“Why, where are you going? I had plans for tonight. I thought we’d go to bed with a curry and a bottle of wine and watch
Millionaire.
”

She burst out laughing. “Max Stoddart watches game shows? I don’t believe it.”

“Yeah, but only in an ironic way,” he said, clearly embarrassed. “Plus, if we’re getting married there are things to talk about. Honeymoon destinations to decide on.”

“Sorry,” she said, getting up off the sofa. “It’ll have to wait. Don’t worry, though—I’ll call you when I get back from Chequers.”

Nine months later, at the British Press Awards lunch in London, Rebecca and Max won the Journalist of the Year and Investigative Story of the Year awards, respectively; at the Golden Rain Porn Film Awards in Las Vegas,
Coming Down the Catwalk
walked off with Willies for best screenplay and best costumes; and at Muswell Hill General Hospital, Lipstick gave birth to Madonna Erin Rose O’Brien-Fine.

Also by Sue Margolis

N
EUROTICA

S
PIN
C
YCLE

RAVES FOR SUE MARGOLIS’S NOVELS

SPIN CYCLE

“Rachel [Katz] is a first-rate comic, and this delightful novel is filled with more than a few big laughs.”
—Booklist

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—Library Journal

“Warmhearted relationship farce . . . a nourishing delight.”
—Publishers Weekly

NEUROTICA

“Screamingly funny sex comedy . . . the perfect novel to take on holiday.”
—USA Today

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Bridget Jones’s Diary
for the matrimonial set . . . Wickedly funny.”
—People
(Beach Book of the Week)

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—The Plain Dealer
(Cleveland)

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Bridget Jones’s Diary
took off, this saucy British adventure redefines the lusty woman’s search for erotic satisfaction. . . . Witty and sure . . . A taut and rambunctious tale exploring the perils and raptures of the pursuit of passion.”
—Publishers Weekly

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—Daily News
(New York)

A Delta Book

Published by

Dell Publishing

a division of

Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ©2003 by Sue Margolis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Margolis, Sue.

Apocalipstick / Sue Margolis.

p. cm.

1. Women journalists—Fiction.  I. Title.

PR6063.A635 A6 2003

823'.914—dc21

2002071586

eISBN: 978-0-440-33502-3

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