19
‘Coming Through s*******r is my favourite!’ Aurelle was gushing to a girl with long black hair. Her name was Leanne. They sat cross-legged together by a woodstove in the Art Den and held old-fashioned champagne cups with etched snowflakes on them, filled with red wine. Aurelle’s red lips were stained dark; she looked like a child who’d had a popsicle.
‘It’s so poetic, it doesn’t even seem like prose,’ Leanne said back.
Aurelle nodded fervently, taking a quick gulp.
‘Exactly! Exactly!’ Her wine sloshed out of her glass. She reached out and ran her hand down Leanne’s arm. ‘You are so pretty.’ Leanne c****d her head and smiled sweetly, holding Aurelle’s other hand up to her cheek.
Diana was across the room, watching. She knew that Aurelle had been badly shaken by that moron at Tax
