by Lesley Jones
“See, they can look after themselves. They’re grown women, not thirteen-year-old girls anymore,” Len said from where he was standing on the other side of Maca.
“They’ll come up here when it gets too much down there. They just wanna have a dance. Come the fuck over here and stop torturing yourself,” he told him.
We moved back over and stood at the end of the bar, where we were promptly surrounded by a group of women who my dad would describe as being dressed like ‘Drury Lane Whores.’
They knew exactly who me and Maca were and couldn’t keep their hands off us.
That type of behaviour from women had always puzzled me. Some, not many, but some would argue that Bailey and Len were better looking than us, but despite the pair of them standing right next to us, it was me and Maca they wouldn’t leave alone. Why was that? Was it the money? The Fame? It was beyond me that people could be that shallow.
“So, I’ve heard you two like to share. How about the four of us get out of here and go have some fun?” One of the women suggested as she tried to unbutton Maca’s shirt. I looked across at him and rolled my eyes. Like we’ve never heard that chat up line before. They were seriously letting the side down for you, ladies—slutty and unoriginal.
“How about you get your fucking hands off me, right now,” Maca told her.
Before she could move or any of us could say anymore, George appeared, grabbed the woman’s hand and bent it at the wrist, so far back, I thought it was actually gonna snap.
“Get your fuckin’ hands off him,” she said through gritted teeth.
I gave a little grin as I caught Maca smiling at George, a look of complete adoration in his eyes.
“Whoa, whoa, Georgia.” Len jumped in and removed G’s hand from the woman’s.
“Georgia, baby. You are such a bad, bad girl,” Maca said through his grin, while looking at my sister like she was the only other living thing on the planet.
Milo stepped out of nowhere, the way he always seemed to, and escorted the women away from where we all stood.
I grabbed a couple of glasses of Champagne from a passing waitress and passed one each to Jimmie and George. “Little sister Georgia, what are we gonna do with you and that temper of yours?” I tried to say with authority and not smile as I spoke, but I’d had a few bourbons and a line of class A so yeah, I failed.
“We’re not gonna do anything with that temper of hers,” Maca said while sliding his arm around my sister’s waist, pulling her in so that he could kiss her neck, “because she makes me so fucking horny when she gets all green eyed. I love it.” Maca made a snarling noise into G’s ear and I think I threw up a little in my mouth.
“Fucking ‘ell. I’m sure I must have some important paperwork to file, or security screens to monitor,” Bailey said, giving a little shudder at Maca’s words before turning and heading away from the bar.
I looked at Len and shook my head. “You two are a fucking nightmare,” he told the lovebirds. “We had to practically sit on him just now when he saw some bloke trying to touch you up on the dance floor.”
George wrapped her arms around Maca’s neck and it felt so good to see the way that she smiled at him in that moment.
“Aw, did they, baby? Did you get all jealous?” she cooed at him.
He said something into her ear and she listened intently.
“Fifty quid says they have a barney and leave early,” Len said. I shook my head because knowing those two, he was probably bang on the money.
“Oi, George. You gonna do the honours or what, babe?” A strong Essex accent came from behind my sister.
I turned to look in the direction of where the voice just came from and my heart felt like it plunged down to my balls, back up through my chest, and lodged somewhere in my throat.
Fuck. Me.
She was gorgeous. Not very tall, but she had curves in the exact places a woman should have curves. She was wearing a silver dress and black patent heels. Her hair was blonde, and her eyes were sort of a brownish blue, or bluish brown. I didn’t know, that sounded stupid, but they were either brown with blue flecks or vice versa.
Yep. I got all that from just one look.
I caught George saying that her name was Ashley, and I just stared—not saying a fucking word—just stared.
Maca leaned across and lifted my chin, making me realise that my mouth must’ve been hanging open. What the fuck was wrong with me? I looked at my sister and then at Maca for some help, but they were looking at me like I wasn’t all the ticket.
Speak, that’s what I needed to do … say something.
“Happy Birthday, Ashley. You. Are. Beautiful,” I told her.
I don’t know where everyone disappeared to, but suddenly it was just me and her, standing and staring at each other.
“You’re Marley Layton,” she stated.
“I am.”
“You said I was beautiful.”
“I did.”
“I’m not stupid. That sort of talk won’t get you in my knickers.”
I had to laugh at her bluntness.
“Who said anything about you being stupid?” I questioned.
“Well, you obviously assume that I’m stupid enough to believe that you think that I’m beautiful.”
“I don’t assume any such thing, sweetheart. I told you you’re beautiful because you are. You’re fucking gorgeous.” Bloody woman. Most women lapped that shit up, not questioned it.
“Well, thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, but I’m still not shagging ya.” She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, moved her bag from one hand to the other, and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
I lost the smile that was on my face as I watched her watching me from over the top of her glass as she took a sip of her drink.
“Why not?” I asked her. “What’s wrong with me?”
She looked me up and down and shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But?”
“But you’re Marley Layton.”
“That’s usually a help, not a hindrance. Birds usually wanna shag because I’m Marley Layton.”
“Well, not this bird.”
A group of people were headed in our direction and wished her a Happy Birthday, so I turned and ordered myself another drink from the bar, hoping her mates fucked off and left us alone, sharpish. I needed to talk to this girl some more. I had no idea why, I just wanted to be near her ... I wanted to know her ... I wanted to know about her.
“So, how do you know my sister?” I asked when her mates had all gone off in search of drinks and their other friends. The party was now in full swing and the dance floor was packed. I steered her to the very end of the bar so that I could hear what she was saying.
“You’re kidding me, right?” She asked. I shook my head no in confusion. “I went to school with your sister. I went to the same school as you,” she said, obviously pissed off that I didn’t remember her, judging by her tone.
“George was two years below me. I don’t remember any of her mates,” I told her honestly.
“You and Jimmie were always pretty tight.” She reminded me.
“Yeah, well, Jim had been Georgia’s best mate since she was about four. She used to sleep over at our house, come on holiday with us,” I explained in a hurry.
“So you and Jim … there was never anything between the two of you?” I shook my head no. I’m not gonna go into details about how I felt when I found out about Jim and Lennon. The past was the past and I’d been over that for years.
“Jimmie’s been with my brother since she was fourteen. She’s like a sister to me.” She nodded her head in understanding. “Now will you shag me?” I asked jokingly, but actually, not joking at all.
“Nope,” she said with a smile “I’ll let you dance with me though, Rock Star.” She grabbed my hand and started to lead me over to the dance floor.
“Oh, you’ll let me dance with you, will ya?” I smiled as I asked, grippin
g hold of her small hand as I followed behind her, definitely not looking at her arse all the way. Not even once, or twice, or a few hundred times.
The Pointer Sisters ‘Automatic’ was playing. Not too fast and not too slow. I pulled her front to mine, turned her around and grinded into her arse. I loved the fact that she grinded right back. The song changed and Frankie Beverly’s voice rasped out the Maze hit, ‘Joy and Pain,’ and the whole dance floor suddenly moved as one as they started this side stepping, line dance type of thing.
Now don’t get me wrong, I can dance, but aside from on stage, I didn’t get much opportunity. When we usually went to clubs, it was pretty much impossible for us to get out on the dance floor without being pestered, even in the VIP areas, so I just didn’t bother too often.
So yeah, I was a little lost for a moment as everyone fell into step, seemingly knowing the moves by heart.
Ashley moved from beside me, and in front of me.
“Eyes on my feet, Rock Star. Just copy what I do.” She winked at me and I did as I was told. As soon as I picked it up, she stepped back in beside me and we danced along, side by side, for the rest of the song. It was the most fun I’d had outside the bedroom in a long, long time, and I couldn’t wipe the big fat cheesy grin off my face.
My cheeks ached because I was smiling so much. This girl was like a breath of fresh air.
The song finally ended and Ashley gave me a round of applause.
“Not bad, Rock Star. You’re a fast learner.”
“Oh, you have no idea, baby,” I said at the same time I pulled her into me and moved us both to the sound of Womack and Womack’s, ‘Teardrops.’
I kissed along the curve of her neck and whispered into her ear, “Come home with me?”
“No,” she replied.
I kept us moving while trying to think of what I could say or do to get her back to my place. It wasn’t just the fact that I really wanted to fuck her, even though she was the reason for the painful hard-on I’d had for most of the night. It was because I just didn’t want the night to end.
What the fuck was happening. I sounded like a big fucking girl. I looked over Ashley’s shoulder and around for my brothers, or Maca. I spotted them all together, but it looked like George and Maca were arguing. He stormed off, grabbed one of the women that was all over him earlier and started dancing with her.
“What’s the matter? You lost interest coz I’ve knocked you back?” Ashley asked.
“No, baby. I’m just watching my sister and best mate argue.” She turned her head in the direction I was looking.
“Shit, George will kill her,” she stated as we watched the woman put her hands all over Maca, before going in for a kiss.
“Looks like she’s about to,” I said.
We watched as Georgia grabbed the woman by the hair.
“Oi, you’re taking the piss now, love,” Georgia shouted at the woman. I was surprised when she gave up without a fight. She called something out over her shoulder, but my sister and Maca seemed to be oblivious to it as they stared at it each other like the pair of weirdo’s that they were.
Gloria Estefan’s, ‘I don’t wanna lose you’ started to play and Maca and G started to dance.
“Looks like they made up and no blood was spilt,” Ashley said.
I looked down into her blue-brown eyes. I slid my palms over her hips and up to her armpits, back down and over her arse.
“Come home with me, Ashley. Not to fuck … well, not unless you force me, but just to talk.” She gave me the sweetest smile, kissed my cheek and said into my ear, “Get me drunk, Rock Star, and I might think about it.”
Two hours later, I was holding her hair back as she threw up in my toilet. I’d got her drunk, all right. So drunk, in fact, that I had to carry her from the club, out the emergency exit, and into the car that Dave, one of our drivers, was waiting outside for us in. About halfway home, Ash threw up all over me, herself, and the car.
Dave helped me get her up to my place, but I made him leave before I stripped her out of the little silver dress she was wearing. I grabbed a T-shirt of mine and pulled it over her head as quickly as I’d pulled her dress off … almost.
What? She was braless and only wearing a black thong underneath. I’m a bloke, for fuck’s sake. Of course I had a little look … twice … or twelve times, but who’s counting?
Once the T-shirt was in place, I’d taken off her thong, purely because as good as it looked, that thing had to be fucking uncomfortable. I pulled a pair of my boxers up her legs and managed to get them in place without copping an eyeful once, despite how hard I’d tried.
I laid her on my bathroom floor with her head resting on a towel while I stripped out of my clothes and jumped into the shower. I dried myself quickly when I got out and pulled on a T and boxers myself.
I was just done with loading all our clothes into the washing machine and turning it on when I heard her heaving. By the time I got back to my bathroom, she’d thrown up all over herself and my bathroom floor.
I ran my hand over my head and then over the stubble that was forming on my chin.
“What the fuck am I gonna do now?” I said to myself out loud. I didn’t want to be in this position. I had an unconscious girl in my home and I’d already stripped her clothes off once, and now I was gonna have to do it again, but this time I was gonna have to shower her too, as it was in her hair and every fucking where.
I paced for a few seconds, then decided to call Jim. It might be four thirty in the morning, but I’d rather listen to Jimmie complain that I’d woken her than be accused of something I hadn’t done … again.
I got the phone off my bedside table and dialled their number while stepping back inside the bathroom. I folded a clean towel and put it under her head, wedging the phone between my ear and my shoulder as it rang.
I had this overwhelming feeling of panic creeping up my spine. I wasn’t sure if I was worried about being accused of something, or if it was the fact that I wanted to look after her. No, fuck that, I didn’t want to, I needed to; me, Marley Layton. I’d lived my life following the two F rule. I fucked ‘em and forgot ‘em, and as much as I wanted very much to fuck Ashley, the fact that I needed to make sure she was okay was overriding any horny thoughts I was having.
Len answered on the fifth ring with, “This better be a fucking emergency.”
“Len, its Marls.”
“Oh fuck, what’ve you done?”
“Fuck you, arsehole. I haven’t done anything.”
“What the fuck d’ya want then? The birds are fucking singing here and I’ve only just got to bed.”
“I’ve got Ashley here at my place.”
I heard him exhale, or inhale, I wasn’t sure which, but it went on for an exaggerated length of time.
“Marls, I swear to God, if you’ve upset that girl, George, Jim, and Mother will have your balls.”
“Mother? What the fuck has she got to do with anything?”
“Ash works for her and Georgia.”
Well fuck, she hadn’t mentioned that.
“I haven’t upset her. She’s out cold on my bathroom floor right now, covered in her own spew.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Len uttered his favourite response to most things I told him. I could hear Jimmie asking who it was in the background.
“Len, put Jim on. I need to talk to her.” The anxiety that was snaking its way up my spine was starting to bubble in my chest and I paced as I heard Len pass the phone over to Jim.
“Please don’t fuck my friend, Marls. She’s had a tough enough life as it is, she doesn’t need you doing your usual fuck and run and breaking her heart.”
“Jim, she’s been sick and it’s everywhere. I don’t know what to do. What if she wakes up and she thinks I touched her? They won’t believe me again, Jim. I’m not a rapist, but the papers won’t care, they’ll write shit about me again.”
I felt like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks. The panic, hurt, and anger I’d fel
t at the comments made in the press and by others in our industry when Haley White made her accusations came clawing their way to the surface. I’d shrugged it all off at the time, had another drink, snorted another line, but it hurt. It fucking hurt and I didn’t want to feel like that again, not ever.
“Marley, calm down, babe—”
“I’m not a fucking rapist, Jim. She spewed up over her party frock so I took it off her and put it in the machine. I put her in one of my T-shirts and a pair of boxers, but she’s done it again and it’s all in her hair this time. It’s fucking everywhere, but I never touched her, Jim. I swear I never touched her.”
I was crying like a fucking princess.
What the fuck was that all about?
“Marls, listen to me. You’re not a rapist, and no one thinks that. She doesn’t think that. Now calm the fuck down.”
I took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I could actually feel my balls and dick shrivelling and being replaced with a vagina over my breakdown.
“I love you, Marley Layton. You’re a good person, and don’t you ever forget that. Now, go run a shower, get Ash in it and wash the puke out of my friend’s hair. If you have to take her top off, try and do it in a non-pervi way.”
“Jim, she’s out fucking cold—dead to the world. I might like things a bit kinky, but I’m not into fucking girls who are passed out, I can assure you.”
“That’s good to hear, Marls. Now, go turn on the shower. I’ll stay on the line in case she wakes up and freaks out.”
After putting the phone down on the side of the sink, I turned on the shower and lifted Ashley up and sat her down again in the corner to let the water run over her. She tilted her face up into it and mumbled a few things that I couldn’t understand. Leaving the boxers on, I pulled the T-shirt over her head and washed her hair, her arms, and her legs. Her tits were staring me in the face. My arm and even my hand brushed against them a couple of times. I had a hard-on the whole time and felt like the worst person on earth. She was fucking gorgeous. Even in this sorry state of hers, she did things to me.
I wrapped her in the biggest towel I could find and carried her out to my bed and laid her down.
