by LP Lovell
I pick my phone up off my desk, and press the camera button. I stretch my arm out and take a selfie, before sending it to Lilly.
“This is so bad, it has to be shared.” I mutter.
She laughs. “That’s so bad, I wouldn’t go sharing it.”
Getting out of the dress is a little bit like trying to squeeze out a splinter. Painful, and hard work. The next dress is better, although the back drops so low, my underwear is showing.
“You need to take off your panties.”
“What? Like, totally?” She nods. I sigh and go for full on crack exposure.
She shrugs one shoulder apologetically. “Designers.” She offers as way of explanation.
Whole. New. Lows.
I get home at six. I said I’d meet Alex for dinner at eight. I don’t normally book dates on a Monday, because no-one ever feels like going out on a Monday night. With his work schedule though, and my cancelling on him last night, I want to see him. I’m just not really feeling venturing out in public. Maybe we could just get take away here? No. That might look like I can’t be bothered, which I can’t, but I don’t want him to feel like I don’t care. God, I can totally see why Lilly and George are so into casual sex, or was in Lilly’s case.
My phone rings just as I’m walking through the front door. As if my day wasn’t bad enough already, it’s my father. I take a deep breath. I never speak to my dad unless I have to. He only ever calls me if it’s necessary.
I swipe my finger over the green button. “Hello.”
“Molly.” Just the sound of his voice makes me shrink slightly. I despise my father, and everything he stands for, yet I’m terrified of disappointing him. Even though everything I do disappoints him. Figures I would be one of those girls with classic daddy issues.
“Dad. How are you?” I ask politely.
He doesn’t answer my question. “I’m in London next week for a business trip. I want us to meet for dinner.” I haven’t spoken to my father for five months, and when I do, he treats me like an appointment to be fitted in amongst his business dealings.
“Okay.”
“Good. I’ll email you the details.” He says quickly before he hangs up. I stare at the phone for a minute, fighting the usual feelings of inadequacy that always arise whenever I speak to him.
My father has always been a selfish man, totally driven by money and success. People’s measure of success varies dramatically, and my father’s idea of success is not the same as mine. He and my mother could not be any more different if they tried. He met her twenty five years ago, in New York. He was an investment broker. She was a model. It’s the usual story; rich man meets a foreign beauty. My mother is half Swedish, half Russian, and stunningly beautiful. She’s also kind, and selfless. She’s the best person I know. For a long time, my father adored her, worshipped her beauty, gravitated towards her inner grace, as everyone else did. Until one day he didn’t any more.
Ten years ago, he started having an affair. He found a new, younger version of my mother. She kicked him out. I was thirteen at the time. Old enough to understand everything. Old enough to resent my father for discarding the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. He left her with nothing. Even after everything he did to her, my mother insisted I have a relationship with him, insisted that I not resent him for his actions. She told me that the heart wants what the heart wants, and I had no right to judge him for that.
I do judge him, because he’s a selfish bastard.
He still supported me, financially at least. He paid for my education, funded my Cambridge degree. He even insists on paying for my flat, and my mum insists I let him, because she hates the idea of me living in a rough area.
He doesn’t care about me though. I’m a continual disappointment to him. I studied journalism, when he wanted me to study business. I moved in with George and Lilly, both of whom he disapproves of. He says I’m too much like my mother, too free. I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but I do, and a visit from him only ever ends one way. Me feeling like shit.
Poor Alex is going to get the crap end of the deal tonight.
I meet him at a little Italian restaurant around the corner from my flat at eight. He’s looking sharp. Really sharp. A pale blue shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and is tailored perfectly to his narrow hips. He’s wearing jeans that are doing him a world of favours. I manage to arrange my face into some semblance of a smile. It’s not without effort. Anything involving my father seems to have the ability to send me running for the vodka, or at least it would if I didn’t still feel so bloody rough from Saturday night.
“Hey.” He flashes me a perfect smile.
“Hey.”
He reaches for me, pulling me in and brushing his lips across my cheek. He’s clean shaven, but a day’s worth of growth scratches lightly across my skin.
“You look lovely as always.” He comments. I glance down at myself. I’m wearing a loose off the shoulder grey jumper, black skinny jeans and flat over the knee boots. Compared to him I look positively drab.
He hands me a glass of red wine and I smile. What more could a girl want than a hot man who brings her wine? I don’t have the heart to tell him that the thought of alcohol still makes me want to hurl.
He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to a small table near the back of the restaurant. He pulls my chair out for me. I’m seated next to the radiator, so I’m happy.
He settles in opposite me. “So, I take it the party got a little wild on Saturday.”
“Yeah. I blame Lilly entirely. That girl is a bloody liability.”
He laughs. “You say these things, but she’s never been anything but perfectly poised whenever I’ve seen her.”
“Uh, were you not there for the piss bag tantrums?” I laugh just at the memory. Most people wake up from a coma and have questions, concerns, whatever. Pretty much one of the first things Lilly did was freak out when she discovered she had a catheter in. She said she felt violated and demanded they take it out. Of course, with most of the bones in her body broken, she couldn’t really get to the toilet. Do you think she let it drop? Hell no. She kicked up hell until they took it out. Then of course, poor Theo had to carry her to the loo every time she needed to go. That guy is such a sucker for her shit. Needless to say, there were tantrums about the ‘piss bag’, as she referred to it.
He shrugs. “I’d probably be pissed off if I woke up to find someone had shoved tubes in certain places.” He laughs. “Although it might be over shadowed by the ‘technically died’ thing.”
I roll my eyes. “You’d think. But yeah, she is a liability. She decided the engagement party was boring…her own party, and got rip roaring drunk.”
“And you got drunk with her?” His lips kick up at one side in a way that makes me want to kiss him.
“Be rude not to. What kind of maid of honour lets the bride drink alone? It’s not good form. I have duties.” None of which I have actually performed. I think I’m supposed to organise and shit, but well, not even Lilly is doing any organising. Cat has taken over. “Although, yesterday I was really wishing I hadn’t.”
“That bad?”
I shake my head. “So bad. I thought I might actually die.”
He laughs. “Wow, I can’t even remember the last time I was like that. It must have been when I was at university.” He ponders.
I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just making conversation, but it suddenly makes me feel very juvenile. Alex has his shit together. He’s a doctor for god’s sake. He owns a flat in London. Okay, it’s not a massive flat, but it’s in a reasonable area. And he owns it. Like, made an investment, and pays a mortgage. Serious shit.
I love my wild and crazy friends, and I’m used to being the sensible mothering one of the group. With Alex though, suddenly I feel like the wild one. I’m not used to it.
“Well, I don’t recommend it. Although, you really should let your hair down every now and then Dr. Ryker.” I tease.
&
nbsp; His gold eyes sparkle under the dim lights of the restaurant. “Deal. The next time I have a couple of days off, we’re going out, and we’re getting drunk.”
I grin. “Oh, this should be good. Am I going to unleash a beast?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He winks and flashes me a cheeky smile that has me in dire need of an underwear change. Please let him be a sex crazed pervert when he’s drunk. Please, please, please.
CHAPTER FIVE
HUGO
Okay, so I may have pulled a total dick move.
I was horny as fuck last night. I’d spent the previous night in Molly’s bed, and I think my cock may have disowned me for not having a crack. It’s not like she wasn’t keen. She was practically dry humping my leg at one point. I’ll admit the throwing up did slightly dampen the mood, but if I’m honest, I’ve fucked worse. Getting her naked and showering her should not have been hot in any way. It should have had all the sexual appeal of showering an elderly person who can’t shower themselves. A normal person would have seen it that way. Hell, my mind might have seen it that way, but my other head…well…boobs. That’s pretty much it.
Needless to say I was wound up to fuck after that, and my hand just wasn’t doing the trick. So I went out to a bar I sometimes visit, and I picked up this girl. She seemed perfectly normal at the time. Now, I don’t take chicks back to my place. It’s always a nightmare in the morning, because no matter how many times you tell them it’s just sex, they’re always, always shocked to realise they’ve been used like a cheap hooker. Seriously, was me telling her to suck me like a dirty whore not clue enough? Then you have to try and get the crazy bitch out of your house. Not to mention the fact that she then knows where I live. No, no, no. Not good.
Last night’s conquest is from out of town, so I got a hotel room. Now this bitch is freaky, and when I say it’s freaky, it’s fucking freaky! It’s been a long time since a girl has wanted to stick her finger up my arse, but well…the pipes needed a good clean, and fucking hell, nothing makes me come harder than a little hole action. She just slipped it on up there while she sucked me off. Like a fucking pro. I half wondered whether she might ask me for money this morning, she was that good. No such luck though. This morning, she asked me to go to breakfast with her. Breakfast! What is this, a fucking date? Jesus, I fucked her, I’m not marrying her.
I declined of course, and she got real fucking twitchy. Like, whole can of crazy twitchy. I know that look, and it means shit is about to go down, and balls are going to get busted. So, because I hate crazy women, and have no desire to deal with that shit, I went to breakfast with her.
I managed to fire a sneaky text to Theo on the way down. It simply read: SOS. I then sent him the hotel address.
This a perfected system we have going on.
She starts talking, and it turns out I said I would take her back to her friend’s house on the other bloody side of London. I’m not sitting in a car with this bitch for an hour. No way no how. When will women realise that a guy will say anything to get laid?
Fuck, I can’t even remember her name. She’s kind of pretty, which is a miracle considering how much I drank last night. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve never had a type before, I mean pussy is pussy, but blondes do seem to be my thing lately. She actually doesn’t look that young, and judging from her moves last night, she’s not. No eighteen year old can pull that shit. She’s wearing a pair of skin tight jeans and some weird see through top. I’ve definitely done worse.
She chats to me endlessly about her life, none of which I remotely give a fuck about. I remember now why I don’t like talking to women after sex. You meet a woman, you think she’s hot, you take her to a room, and you fuck her brains out. There’s an element of mystery in this. I don’t then want to know that she’s a fucking hair dresser, or that she has a kid. Illusion ruined. Harsh, I know, but true.
My phone beeps with a text from Theo: Here.
“Is that your girlfriend?” She suddenly asks. O-kay. There’s that crazy again.
“My friend.” I say with a small smile. “Uh, listen, I think I left my wallet upstairs in the room, I’m just going to get it so I can pay for breakfast.”
She smiles and shrugs one shoulder. “Okay.”
I plaster a fake grin on my face and haul arse. I don’t even stop at the reception desk, just pull a wad of cash from my wallet…which is in my pocket, and throw it on the desk. “Room 104.” I tell the startled looking woman behind the desk.
I glance back over my shoulder to check that crazy isn’t following, and jog through the main door of the hotel. Rescue is awaiting me on the curb in the form of Theo, waiting in his bright red McLaren.
I pull the handle and the door pops upward. I might have to get one of these, it’s a serious boys toy. He used to have an Aston, and it was his pride and joy, until some crazy chick hijacked it whilst high off her face, and crashed it, with Lilly inside. Yeah, it’s a long story.
I slide into the leather seat, and turn to face him, with a smug grin plastered all over his face.
“What was it this time? You get roped into a threesome again?” He asks as he pulls away from the curb.
“That was one time!” I fell foul to the old threesome trick. Meet a hot woman, have some drinks, get drunk. She manages to get me so horny I can’t see straight, and then she mentions that she’s married, and that he likes to watch. I’m cool with that. I’ve fucked in front of people many times. Of course though, he never just watches, and before you know it, your wang slapping some dude you’ve never met, and forming a whole new bro code whilst you both violate the shit out of his wife. What can I say? Shit happens. “This was just a standard crazy.”
My phone beeps with a text from an unknown number: ‘Where are you? I miss you already. Xx’
“Fucking sneaky bitch.”
Theo laughs, slapping his hand against the steering wheel. “She got your number? Amateur move dude. Never let the crazies get your number.”
“I’m sorry. Clearly I’m not versed in the art of the true crazy.”
“Seriously? I swear every other girl I went near turned out to be psycho.” He mumbles.
I tilt my head toward him. “Uh, yeah, because you look like that, fucker. Woman don’t even care if you use them. It’s disgusting.”
He laughs and wiggles his eyebrows. “Jealous?”
“No, because now, you are officially a pussy whipped little bitch, and I get all the pussy to myself. No more taking the ones that you didn’t pick, you prick.” Given a choice, women will always fuck Theo, he’s just…Theo. I can’t really explain it. He has that whole ‘I’m super fucking awesome and you can’t touch me’ thing going on, so of course, they then all want to touch him. Whereas I’m game for any touching, any time. If you’re going to have a wingman though, Theo is your guy. Women flock to him like flies on shit, and his newly loved up status means they all get deferred to me. Awesome.
“You got much on today?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Just packing some shit up really.”
“I totally forgot you were leaving.” Theo and Lilly are going to Rome for a month or so. Theo has offices in London, Rome, Paris and Berlin. His brother runs the Paris one, he sort of runs the London one and the others have management in place, but there’s been a problem with money laundering or some shit in Rome, so Theo’s going to bust some balls. I’ll miss him, in a totally manly way. He’s my best friend, but he’s more like a brother. We kind of grew up together, neither of us having much to do with our families.
“You know how much I hate actually working.” He whines. “And Lilly is already bitching. She wants Molly to come.”
I laugh. “Oh, imagine the fun you’d have Lilly, Molly and you.”
He throws me a blank look. “No. Not happening.” Whenever Lilly and Molly are together, they gang up. Even if there are two of us, they still manage to gang up. Those two are scary feisty.
He pulls up to the metal gate of his
house, and presses a button on a fob. The gates slide open easily, and the tyres roll across the gravel driveway.
“You coming in?” He asks.
I shrug. “Sure.”
A couple of days later, and Theo and Lilly are gone. I’m bored already. I mean seriously, when you don’t have to work, what do you do all day, except hang out with your friend who also doesn’t have to work? Don’t get me wrong, I only see Theo a couple of days a week really, but still.
I tried to take Gaz for a walk earlier, but he wasn’t having it.
I text the only other person besides Gary and Theo who I actually like hanging out with. Molly.
Me: What you doing?
Molly: Working. You should try it some time.
Me: What you doing after that?
Molly: Nothing. Why? I’m not fucking you.
I laugh at that. She knows me too well.
At six o clock, I’m sat in my car just outside Molly’s office building. Horns are blaring as people try and squeeze past in rush hour traffic.
I spot Molly exit the building through the revolving doors. Her blonde hair is loose, with a small braid pinned back from her head. It’s weird seeing her in her work clothes. She looks hot. That pencil skirt is so dirty secretary.
She narrows her eyes when she spots the car, and takes purposeful strides towards it. She pulls open the passenger door and drops into the seat with a huff.
“Could you be any more ostentatious if you tried?” She sighs.
I smile. “Hey, don’t dis the Lambo.”
“Hugo, you do realise that by driving this car, you might as well put a sign on it that says; I have a tiny penis.”
I snort. “Well, we both know that’s not true, sweetness.” I put the car in gear, ready to pull away.
“Seen bigger.” She says casually.
I slam my foot back down on the clutch and turn to glare at her. “Take it back.”
