With or Without You Read Online Free PDF Page A

lunch everyday has one. The last valet attendant who parked my caractually left a business card tucked into my never-used ashtray that featured information about his blog. But friends’ blogs are the worst, because friends can find out if you don’t keep up with the drama of their daily lives.
    Maybe I don’t want to know when Nora’s jonesing for a hot session with her Adonis-like bouncer, he of the chiselled jaw and iron pecs. Maybe I was never overly impressed by Byron’s play by play of every case he ever won. Or his bitch fests in regards to the few cases he lost. Or his weekend discussions about his tennis matches in which he analysed every single shot.
    ‘Seriously,’ Nora said. ‘He would just wax poetic about her. Her eyes. Her clothes. Her style.’
    ‘You’re kidding me.’
    This actually was news. How had I missed it? I didn’t read all of his entries, but shouldn’t I have at least picked up a clue or two about this sort of thing? Did I live in a fantasy world, surrounded by antiques all day, able to understand items from thousands of years ago but not to see the plain truth when it was right in front of my eyes?
    Nora seemed to think so.
    She shot me a look and then reached for her laptop. When she opened the computer up on the coffee table, I saw that she was already online. I gave her a quizzical stare, and she shook her head at me. ‘Airport, of course,’ she explained with a sigh.
    I nodded. That’s right. Nora’s online anywhere in the house. She also has a version of airport at the club, so that people can check their email or surf the internet wherever they are. With a few simple keystrokes, she’d pulled up Byron’s blog, ingeniously titled ‘Byronsblog’, and then she scrolled down the entries until she found the following:
    With a fierce look in her bright blue eyes, Gwen Roberts paced before the stand. Her body language let the jurors know that she meant business. And believe me she did.
    ‘He fancies himself to be another John Grisham or Scott Turow,’ Nora said with a cynical smile. ‘But he’s just one more in a long line of legal hacks, huh?’
    I didn’t respond. I couldn’t believe I’d missed this.
    Gwen, outstanding in a form-fitting suit of pale cream, refused to back down from her fierce line of questioning.
    ‘See? He’s got a rep on the word “fierce.” ’ Nora knows how I feel about word repetitions. ‘Don’t look so down, Eli. You have to really read it to get that he was fantasising about her, because those sorts of descriptions are all embedded in information about court trials.’ She glanced at the screen with a scowl before flicking her computer shut with a resounding click. Then she looked at me, her gaze fully sympathetic. I could tell that she was ready to listen, but I didn’t know where to start.
    Finally, I found my voice. ‘What on earth were you doing reading Byron’s blog?’ There had to be a million other blogs in Southern California alone that were more interesting than the one penned by my recent ex. Even the one by the valet attendant – which I had skimmed, myself, and which was like a verbal orgasm about the makes of the different cars he parked – would have been time better spent in my opinion.
    Nora shrugged. ‘You know me. Insomnia. I read everything in the wee hours of the morning, when the club’s closed and there aren’t any cute boys to play with.’ She was being self-deprecating. As the owner of the Pink Fedora, on the outskirts of the Hollywood Hills, Nora has access to many cute boys. Her club is an ultra-hip A-list-only nightspot where people like me would have no hope of getting in if we weren’t put on the guest list. ‘Plus, I’m nosy,’ she continued. ‘I like to know what’s going on with my friends. And since you don’t have your own blog …’ She gave me a look of total incredulity, but I just shrugged. What on earth would I write about? Immersing myself in yet another phone-book-sized tome on