Drop Dead Dirty

by West, Jade

  Drop Dead Dirty

  Jade West

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Drop Dead Dirty copyright © 2019 Jade West

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  Cover design by Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs http://designs.romanticbookaffairs.com/

  Cover photo by Wander Aguiar

  Edited by John Hudspith www.johnhudspith.co.uk

  All enquiries to jadewestauthor@gmail.com

  First published 2019

  To hopes, dreams and brand new starts.

  Thank you to everyone who has helped me reach for them.

  Chapter One

  Maisie

  “Have you heard, Maisie? Surely you’ve heard?! Oliver Kent is coming back! Here. HERE! Can you believe it?!”

  It came as a bolt from nowhere. A string of animated words flying over as I coasted through work on a regular Wednesday afternoon with my regular customer-friendly smile on my face.

  The surprise in Eleanor’s eyes as they locked on mine across the checkout counter was enough that my belly lurched and tumbled, spinning like a washing cycle as her words registered.

  No. Surely not.

  Surely Oliver Kent couldn’t be coming back here. Now. To quiet, quaint little Much Arlock with its small-town drama and little else. To our steady community of same old, with its whispers and gossip.

  To me.

  My hand dithered in mid-air, her pack of bananas paused before the bleep, rendered immobile by the hard slam of his potential reappearance in my world.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Surely Oliver Kent wasn’t coming back here. Not anytime this century.

  He was done with this place. With its whispers and gossip and small-time everything.

  With me.

  Oliver Kent. The boy who hadn’t been known to step foot in this vicinity for the entire past decade. The boy who’d shot for the stars and the big smoke of London as soon as high school kicked out and had never looked back. Who’d never needed to look back.

  Oliver Kent. The boy who’d turned into a man ripe to fuel constant rumours in this town. Who’d set up some swanky, highbrow electronic testing business and was now turning over some insane figure every year. A bank balance figure everyone in this town speculated over whenever tongues got wagging, usually on group chats on social media, or over a couple of beers in the local pub at night, or at supermarket checkouts whenever I was serving.

  Especially when I was serving.

  And so they would.

  Oliver Kent. The boy who still held my heart as tightly as he ever had, back when we were young kids with big dreams, professing undying love and an undying future together.

  Eleanor’s grin was bright, her eyes demanding a response as I forced myself back into some kind of order. She’d always been one of the bossy types, ever since we were pre-schoolers sharing out the ride-on toys. Always had that posh-girl confidence through the years.

  I bleeped her bananas through the barcode scanner and dropped them into her bag for forever.

  “Ollie’s coming back here?” I asked, hating how flimsy my voice sounded. “Why would he be coming back here? His parents moved away years ago…”

  She tossed her head to the side like I was some kind of idiot for asking the question. And I knew it. I knew it before she answered. I should have known it before she answered, too. My ex-school comrades had been talking of little else for months.

  “The reunion!” she told me. “He’s coming back for the high school reunion, of course! Even he clearly thinks it’s worthy of a cross-country commute.”

  “Ah, yes, the reunion…” I replied, hoping I sounded a little more joyous than I felt at the thought.

  But I didn’t.

  Clearly.

  Her eyes narrowed as she responded. “You are coming, right? We can’t get to ten whole years out of Much Arlock High School and not at least have a decent reunion gig. Not even you, goodie-two-shoes-Maisie-Moore who’s barely been on a night out in months. There’s no way you’re missing it! Especially not if Oliver Kent is coming back!”

  I hated how my cheeks were burning, suddenly wishing I’d at least pasted on a layer of foundation that morning.

  “I’m supposed to be coming,” I told her, and I wasn’t lying. I’d been strong armed into it for weeks. Kate and Amy would never let me live it down in a thousand years if I didn’t head out with them for the decade recap. I was blood-bound for at least a couple of proseccos.

  Still. I hadn’t expected Ollie would be showing up when I’d agreed to it, though. Hadn’t thought for a second he’d be back in this part of the world and hemmed into the community centre with the rest of us on our reunion night out.

  There was no doubt that everyone else in the whole school year would be attending now, if he was. It would be the event of the year – so many people nosing, asking questions, trying to work out what streak of crazy fortune or talent had made him such a winner amongst the rest of us.

  I could have told them plenty about Ollie’s talents for free, back then as much as now, only nobody would have listened back then. Nobody would have cared a crap for news about Oliver Kent back when he was a regular amongst the rest of us.

  I couldn’t stop looking at Eleanor as I bleeped through the rest of her lunchtime shop. Her expression was illuminated, brows high and cheeks bright. She was buzzing with life, unmistakably so, blatantly beyond excited by the thought of Ollie coming back to this tiny town with its tiny dreams for them to all gawp and stare at.

  For the millionth time in these past few years, I wondered how different her mental image of him was now that he was a millionaire award-winning someone. I wondered if she’d totally re-plastered over the nerdy teenager so many people had walked on by without a second glance in our school corridors way back when.

  “I can’t wait to see him again!” she gushed, confirming my thoughts. “Did you see the last pictur
e of him Ryan Neil posted? The one at some mega award ceremony last autumn? Hell, how amazing he looked. No wonder he landed the supermodel-gorgeous wife on his arm.”

  I dropped my eyes, feeling hers bold on mine.

  “Twenty-eight-thirty, please,” I said, and nudged her shopping bag a little closer.

  She handed over the cash and kept on talking. “He looked incredible. In-cred-ible! He’s so gorgeous these days, so much more than he ever used to be at school, of course. I guess he’s got a personal trainer now he’s one of the rich guys. His stubble was to die for. So hot. He’s always looked hot though, hasn’t he? You’d know better than anyone, of course…”

  I handed her change and her receipt over with a fresh version of my regular smile. “It’s been a long time since I’d know, Eleanor. I haven’t seen Ollie Kent since you have.”

  She picked up her shopping but lingered at the checkout as I welcomed the next customer.

  “But we will see him soon enough,” she said. “We’ll see him on Saturday. All of us. And you will be there, Maisie Moore! You have to be there to join in the fun, even if I have to drag you there myself!”

  Somehow I didn’t doubt I would be. I was absolutely sure she’d drag me out herself if she needed to, just for the spectacle.

  I didn’t argue, just held my smile bright as she turned and made her way to the exit doors and beyond. I held my smile bright and carried on with my regular day job in my regular daily life, even though my heart was pounding loud enough to thump in my ears and the thought of seeing Oliver Kent again was enough that my knees felt bandy under the counter.

  Because I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t see Oliver Kent again.

  Not see him in the flesh and make it out with my heart in any fewer than a thousand pieces of regret for losing him way back when.

  It was when I saw my friends Kate and Amy grinning bright in my checkout queue with gestures of incoming wild gossip that I figured I’d better be getting ready for the heartbreak all over again.

  If even half of the rumours were true, there’d be no way I’d be anything more to Oliver Kent than a faded, pointless memory.

  Chapter Two

  Oliver

  “Oh come on, Oliver, humour me.” Ryan’s grin was every bit as cocky as it had been back at school. He handed me a beer from his fridge and clinked the bottle with his. “The whole damn fucking place is gonna be desperate to see you. You’ll be like a zoo exhibit. They’ll be clapping me on the back for months to come.”

  I tipped back a swig and grimaced. This crappy beer was every bit as grim tasting as it was when we used to guzzle it down on the cricket pitch as teens.

  I took a breath, tugging my tie loose at the collar before speaking.

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to attend the high school reunion, with you, this weekend, so that I can be your back-visiting-town zoo monkey? No wonder you’re struggling on the sales targets at the office. Hardly a winning pitch.”

  I leaned back against his kitchen wall, surveying the place afresh. He’d done alright here, so his sales targets couldn’t be half as unobtainable as he’d made them out to be in our brief phone catch up. A decent apartment, with a decent kitchen and decent spice rack. Decent TV set up through the hall.

  A decent enough sofa to sleep on for a few nights. Just like old time sleepovers. Two guys holed up together with TV, games, beers and camaraderie.

  At least that’s what I was hoping for.

  He gestured to the rumpled old couch across the corridor as if reading my mind.

  “You’re sure you really wanna be surfing that thing? It’s not as if you can’t flash the cash and book out every hotel room in the county these days. I’m hardly the Hilton.”

  I took another swig of crappy beer. “And miss out on your late night laughs? No thanks. If you’re happy to have me, that is.”

  His slap on my arm was as familiar as his cocky grin, even after so many years. “I’m happy to have you alright. Still can’t believe you’re here. No one else is gonna believe it either, not until they see you in the damn flesh.”

  I caught sight of myself in the damn flesh in the kitchen window reflection, and Ryan’s damn flesh along with me.

  We looked different. Both of us. Recognisably us, but still so obviously different. More different than the social media posts gave credit to online.

  The decade had been kinder to me than to him, but we were both impressively bulked for our late twenties. My suit was more flattering than his, but that was the cash value. My stubble more defined and my teeth a whole load neater for the dental treatment. Still, his hair was neater as mine had its usual messy flick by the end of the day. His grin was brighter. His pad more obviously a home to him than mine had ever been to me down in London these past few years.

  “You’ve done so bloody well for yourself, mate,” he said, and the genuine friendship in his voice made me feel strangely exposed. Strangely vulnerable.

  Strangely me.

  I kept my eyes on the window reflection, even though I managed a smile. The mahogany of my hair was ripe with a chestnut tone under the yellow of his florescent kitchen light, and I felt like my old self standing there. The old self with the thick-rimmed glasses and the gangly limbs and caffeine addiction. The old self with a cocksure attitude and big dreams to go along with it. The old self who’d been desperate to get away from loserville as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

  I’d never have anticipated that my new self would have been as desperate to get back to loserville as I’d been when I reached out and buzzed Ryan the day previous.

  Yet again, my old friend read my thoughts.

  “You gonna tell me what’s been going on down in the big smoke that’s mega enough to make Much Arlock look like a winning holiday destination?”

  The beer tasted a load more palatable by the third swig. “You gonna show me what old games you’ve still got kicking around on that old console of yours?”

  And he knew. He knew I was a whole world away from spilling my guts up fresh to him on evening number one.

  Too much. It was just too much.

  “Alright,” he said. “First thing’s first. We hang out like two mates who haven’t seen each other in fucking forever and down the beers while playing on the shoot ‘em ups.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, and my smile felt refreshingly bright. Genuine.

  Real.

  “One condition,” he said as he led the way through to the lounge. “I won’t pry like a nosey dickhead just yet on one condition.”

  “Name your price,” I said and dropped my suitcase down at the side of the sofa. “I hope it’s a good one.”

  And it was.

  It was a damned good one.

  “You’ll be a goddamn zoo monkey at the school reunion,” he smirked. “You’ll come along with me and give them all something to gossip over.”

  And I held out my hand. I laughed along with him as he slapped his handshake in mine and pulled me in for a brotherly hug.

  Attending the reunion on Saturday night would be a more than respectable return favour for his hospitality at virtually zero notice. The very least I could do.

  Hell, on some crazy level it may even be fun.

  “I do love a good deal,” he said. “And I do love the fact you’re fucking back here. Still can’t believe you’re in my pissing living room after all this time.”

  I hoped my hand slap on his back said that I was pleased I was standing there in his living room. I hoped it said that his was the kind of friendship that mattered when the rocks of life got slippery.

  “Tell you one more thing,” he continued as he pulled away. “Maisie Moore isn’t gonna believe it, either. Not seeing you, larger than life.”

  My guts did a fresh load more twisting and turning.

  I tried to keep my voice steady as he fired up the game. “Maisie’s still around, is she? Locally? Just like old times?”

  “Oh, you’ll see her,”
he said. “I’m sure she’ll be at the monkey enclosure on Saturday night. That’s if you don’t see her on the local store checkout in the meantime.”

  “She works at the store?” I quizzed, and felt his eyes searing as I sat myself down on the couch.

  “She sure does. Has done for a fair few years now.” He paused. “You haven’t been missing her, by any chance? She’s not your real reason for the cross-country visit, is she?”

  “No,” I said. “She’s not the reason.”

  I wasn’t lying. Couldn’t be lying.

  There’s no way Maisie Moore could be the real reason for my drive to get back here, of all places in the world to get my head back together. There’s no way she could still be the girl who held my heart in her clutches after all these years.

  Not after all this time in city life without so much as a whisper from her corner.

  Not after all this time with a wedding ring on my finger, even if it was long since snaking its way into oblivion.

  “Good,” Ryan said, and sat himself down next to me with the old controllers at the ready. “Because your zoo exhibit would be a whole load more volatile with Robbie Sawyer after your blood.”

  My sigh was loud. “Robbie Sawyer. Jesus. He’s still around as well? Has he managed to keep hold of her all this time?”