We sit in silence in the back of the cab, everybody too afraid to speak, determined not to say the wrong thing.
“Where to ladies?” the cabbie asks.
Before anyone can speak, “The nearest McDonalds,” I say flatly.
The cashier is cheerful and happy, “What will it be?”
“A super–sized Big Mac meal with Coke. An apple pie and a chocolate sundae, extra salt on the fries.” I look back at my friends who are both wisely staying silent, pretending to look at the menu board. Operation slim down is officially over.
Chapter 5
It’s been four days. Four days of nothing since I saw him go up the stairway to hell. My mind is torturing me with visions of him with those two girls and what went on upstairs. The way he touched the blonde one with the backs of his fingers. Every time I close my eyes, I see it and it kills me. The way he smiled at her with the cigarette between his teeth, the way he cracked his neck. That’s the worst one—it rolls my stomach. I feel sick at the thought. A broken heart is lonely business, and no one can take away the hurt. I feel so alone. I haven’t left the house other than to work, haven’t slept. I have however eaten everything on the southern side of the planet; there’s a lot to be said for comfort eating. I am full–stomached and empty–hearted. The emptiness is overwhelming. As I wait for the bartender to serve me my drink I notice Bridge and Abbs discussing a man standing next to me at the bar. I roll my eyes and shake my head at them. Determination doesn’t come close to the scheming these two are doing tonight. We are at the Ivy, our favourite nightclub, and I am pimped up to the nines. I’m in a tight charcoal strapless dress and black stiletto ankle boots, their choice of course. I feel like Prostitute Barbie with my hair all out and full, not to mention the hooker makeup they have applied. They both want me to pick up a random guy and have a one–night stand. I have been forced to listen to the benefits of this for two frigging days. They think I am only under the influence of Joshua because he has been my only one, which is probably true. I told them if they find a guy who can get me hot then I will do it. However, I know this is not an easy feat. If it was I would have done it years ago. Apparently it should be someone I don’t know, but the thought of that scares me a bit. What if I get back to his house and he’s a serial killer? There are a few guys who I do know and sort of like and I know like me, maybe I should do it with one of those. I can’t believe I am even considering this. I sound like Abbie. She knows she will have sex later that night—by lunchtime that day, it’s totally preconceived. The poor bastard she picks is in for it, whether he likes it or not. Though I’m sure he’s not complaining. Can I really do this? I shuffle forward in the line at the bar while I think. Let’s recap, I haven’t had sex in seven years. I think I’m in love with a total asshole who fucks multiple strippers at the same time. I close my eyes as I imagine the orgy. The human imagination can be so cruel. I shiver in contempt. I need to move on, and I think the girls might be right. I do need to take control of my life and I intend on doing it tonight. How in the hell am I going to get through it? I look around the room for divine intervention as I take a deep breath. Alcohol, that’s the ticket. If I get drunk enough maybe it will take the edge off, calm my nerves so to speak. My turn comes around and I shuffle up to place my order.
“What will it be?” asks a pretty girl with massive boobs. Um, am I really going to do this? Oh shit, fuck it.
“I’ll have six Tequilas please.”
I look around at the women seated around Ben and me at the Ivy on the deep leather lounges in a half circle. We have been here a few times—it seems Adrian’s club of choice. I’m not a fan really, the woman are all desperate and money–hungry. They can smell my wallet from a mile off, attractive enough though. I smile at Ben as I listen to the two girls either side of him compliment his accent.
“Ben, you sound so gorgeous when you say that, can you say it again?” My eyes roll. God, why does he tell them his real name? I rub the side of my pointer backwards and forwards over my lips, my elbow resting on the arm–rest as I listen to the small talk. I take a sip of my Cointreau and ice. I really would rather go, this redhead next to me is annoying as fuck.
“So do you have an accent?” she gushes.
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you live near here?”