We were walking down Chandos Place heading for the Maple Leaf, which is one of my favourite places in Covent Garden, hell even the West End, when Jake turned to me and dropped the bombshell.
“I mean, how fucking cold is this; she told me while we were fighting that the thing that finally made her want to divorce me was mi haircut!”
I nodded, and desperately sought within myself a way to agree with him while resisting the temptation to agree with her as well. No one has ever looked quite so ridiculous with a mohican as Jake. He was my best friend, but the man had ears that would not have looked out of place on Prince Charles. His tiny, pin head denuded of all but a floppy crest of his thin hair that had then been dyed a dodgy shade of red, he did look a mite ridiculous.
I was pretty sure that Katie really wanted to divorce him because he quit his lucrative sales job and become a bicycle courier, at twenty-nine, without talking to his wife about the decision. Well and then there was that she was shagging me.