CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Justin looked over the street from the rooftop terrace with a fat joint in his mouth.
He could see Trudy below wheeling the suitcase. Megan was a couple of steps behind dragging her bunny by the ears, and Philip was bringing up the rear, absorbed by his phone. None of them looked up.
He watched them get in a taxi and drive away.
‘Not sure where I went wrong,’ he mused. ‘But at least I can look myself in the mirror and say I tried, I really tried.’
He flicked his roach across the rooftops and sat down to make another joint.
His flight wasn’t until midnight. He’d bought another big lump of hash and was determined to smoke it, therefore ensuring he got on the plane stoned.
‘Girls are weird,’ he thought to himself. ‘There’s nothing I can do about that; there’s nothin’
