‘No pro – WHAT THE HELL?!’

Marina had taken them to a black, sleek limousine. No one knew what to say. Their eyes widened in surprise, they kept gawking at the car. It took a while for their mouths to stop hanging open and shape beautiful smiles.

‘Marina Ferrer, how dare you…’ Dana said, hugging the taller woman before being pulled inside by a too-eager fiancée.

‘THIS IS AWESOME!!!’ Tonya screamed, startled half of the airport.

‘Really, you shouldn’t have bothered.’ Tina stepped in, sat beside a speechless Bette.

‘Yeah, we’re your friends, not England’s royalty.’ Shane commented, grinning and touching the black leather seat.

‘In the place where I came from, my friends are royalty.’ Marina answered, glad they had liked it. She held the door open for Jenny and Robin, nodded at their meek “Thank you”, made sure her driver had put their bags on empty seats and went in. She found a place between Shane and Alice, which faced everyone else, and closed the door.

There was plenty of space for them to lie down, which they did. Tonya and Dana nuzzled; Bette let Tina lie on her lap; Robin and Jenny leaned on each other and the older woman put a hand on the writer’s hair. Marina offered one shoulder to Al, the other to Shane.

‘You are really tired, I see.’ The car started, rolled softly through streets.

‘Yeah, I couldn’t sleep in the plane. There were two ladies with me who couldn’t stop discussing health issues.’ Alice confessed, got sympathetic glances from her friends. ‘”Sugar is awful for the body!”’ she mimicked in a shrilly voice.

‘We slept like angels, but this time zone thing is so damn confusing.’ Dana said.

‘Ditto’ Agreed Jenny, Robin, Bette and Tina.

‘It takes a while to get used to it. We’re talking about a nine-hour-difference, anyway.’ Mrs. Ferrer commented, had to restrain herself from glaring at the way Robin fondled Jenny.

She’d heard the writer’s whispered jesting, had felt a bit hurt by them. She wouldn’t show pain, at any cost. She’d not lose her patience. She was Marina Ferrer, the Countess’ daughter, and she had not been raised to throw fits and go around yelling her anger.

‘So, what do you want to do tomorrow morning?’ The Italian asked, tried to sweep away any Jenny-related thoughts from her mind.