Manhattan Dreaming Read Online Free PDF Page A

please.’
    Libby leaned in close and whispered in my ear, ‘There are so many lesbians because men are jerks.’ She raised one eyebrow, as if to say and by that I mean Adam.
    â€˜Please don’t start. I haven’t even had a coffee yet, and I’m freezing. What is it, six degrees?’ I scanned the stall for something else that looked delicious.
    â€˜And a banana caramel fudge muffin too, please.’
    The stallholder smiled and put it in a bag for me.
    â€˜Don’t change the subject,’ Libby said. ‘You’re behaving like a man.’
    â€˜And I’ll have two double chocolate muffins, thanks,’ I said to the stallholder.
    â€˜After coffee you’re going to talk, Loz. In the meantime, there’s a hottie. Ooooh, I bet he’s a firey.’
    â€˜I thought you weren’t interested in men any more.’
    â€˜I’m still interested in perving, I’m just not interested in letting any of them close enough to me that they can destroy my not-so-easily rebuilt heart and head. Now, hold my hand.’
    â€˜What the hell are you doing now?’ I said, playing along and taking her gloved hand in mine like we were schoolkids crossing the road. We walked towards the ‘hottie’ and stopped at a stall with coasters, placemats and jewellery boxes adorned with classic images.
    â€˜Straight men love the thought of women together. Trust me, he’ll be over here in a flash.’
    â€˜I thought you were just perving.’
    â€˜He’s not for me, this one’s for you . You did break up with Fullofhimself on Friday night, didn’t you?’
    I let go of her hand and picked up a wooden box covered with images of Audrey Hepburn. ‘I love this,’ I said, admiring her absolute beauty.
    â€˜Okay, if you didn’t break up then you must have sorted it all out. He’s going to be the proper boyfriend now, is he?’
    I put the box down and picked up coasters made in the same fashion, only with Klimt images on them.
    â€˜We’re still seeing each other. But he’s not moving in. He’s got the grand finals to focus on. It’s his career. His livelihood. It’s important. I need to support him.’
    â€˜Oh my god. He’s still pulling the strings. And you’re just doing the puppet dance. Why? He must be a good lay, because seriously, there is no other reason a woman as deadly as you would or should stay with a man like that. Where is the hero today anyway?’
    â€˜He had an away game on the Gold Coast yesterday. They won, thankfully. He scored three tries. I was so proud of him. I would’ve liked to have gone but I just couldn’t afford it.’ I loved working in the arts but the pay was poor.
    â€˜Don’t suppose he offered to pay, did he? I mean, big shot footy star that he is,’ Libby mumbled under her breath. She was shaking her head.
    â€˜It’s time for breakfast,’ I said. ‘I’m starving. The usual?’

    The winter chill had cut right through us as we walked to Manuka from the markets. We sat reading the weekend papers, drinking our coffee and feeling the warmth return to our bodies. Breakfast at Caph’s was a regular Sunday morning ritual for Libby and me. We’d been doing it for three years, since we first started working together at the gallery. I liked Libby the first time we met because she drank her coffee just like me – skim mocha in a mug. But more importantly, she was the strongest woman friend I’d ever had. When someone gave her a hard time she was always quick with comebacks, sharp but not sarcastic, and always sensible. Everyone went to her for advice – women and men, young and old alike. ‘Loveable Lib’ – that’s what everyone called her at work. She often gave advice you didn’t want to take, but she was the most honest and generous person anyone had ever met. Adam even liked her – she just