Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
I stopped wiping down the side and stood for a minute, and it hit me. It really hit me. Single, jobless, and pregnant.
Oh my fucking God.
“I can’t believe this is happening…” I said, and felt the tears springing up. “I’m such an idiot for thinking we could make this work… for hoping we could start over…”
“You aren’t an idiot.” She let out a groan. “He is. He’s the idiot.”
“I really thought this could be something…”
She was about to speak when there was a knock on the front door. My heartrate rocketed, and I felt sick, dizzy at the thought of a showdown.
“I’ll get it,” Tonya said. She pointed at the table. “Sit. Relax. I’ll deal with this, don’t you fucking worry.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue with her.
Tonya stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her before I could say a word.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve, showing up here right now.”
I took out my cigarettes and she held out her hand. I gave her the pack and she took one for herself, lit up with my lighter before she handed them back.
“I need to see her,” I said. “This isn’t as it fucking seems.”
“Have you been fucking Lorraine, yes or no?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But not…”
She shook her head. “Then it’s as it fucking seems, Trent. You’re fucking her friend, her fucking boss. That skank set her up, made a fucking idiot out of her. You let that happen.”
“Like I had any fucking idea what that bitch was up to.”
She shrugged. “How many years have you been fucking that skanky old cow?”
I took a drag. “What does that matter?”
“It matters a fucking lot, Trent. How long?”
I fought the urge to smash my fist into the brickwork. “I don’t fucking know, wasn’t keeping tabs. Three years maybe.”
“Three fucking years?!”
“Since I did the fucking calendar,” I said. “Since Jo got with Brian.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, well, it was a fucking mistake, wasn’t it?”
She glared at me. “No. The fucking mistake was keeping it from Jodie when you two got back involved. You should have fucking said something.”
“Said what? I’ve been fucking your fucking boss and she’s been paying for it? Hope that’s fucking ok? Yeah right, Tonya. Get fucking real. She’d have run for the fucking hills.”
“Like now you mean?”
The thought hit me in the gut. “That’s how she feels, is it?”
She sighed. “Of course that’s how she fucking feels, Trent! Can you blame her? She walked in on you getting your end away with a load of skanky bitches she knows! People she sees every fucking day at the cafe!”
“I wasn’t getting my fucking end away with anyone, Tonya. I turned up there for Jo. Lorraine told me you two were going to her seedy fucking sex party, I could hardly fucking believe it myself.”
“Not that kind of fucking sex party. Jo thought we were going to buy fucking sex toys, for you and her! I did, too!” She shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t look too fucking good, does it? That sour old bitch was hanging off your fucking dick, Trent, plain as day.”
“A set up,” I snapped. “It was a fucking set up.” I met her eyes. “Can I see her?”
“And what are you gonna say, huh? Sorry I fucked your friend, for three fucking years? I should have told you?”
I shrugged, and I had no answer. I didn’t fucking know.
“She needs to stay calm,” Tonya said. “For the girls and Nanna.” She paused. “This is gonna fuck her up, she needs some fucking time.”
“I should just fuck off then, should I?” My voice was so bitter. “Wait for a call from her that never fucking comes?”
Tonya’s voice was more bitter than mine. “Yes, Trent, you should just fuck off and wait and see what she wants to fucking do, if fucking anything! Have a bit of fucking respect!”
I looked at the door behind her, contemplated just bursting in. But Tonya was right. Jo needed to stay calm, get her fucking bearings. Needed to decide if she ever wanted to see a stupid piece of shit like me ever again.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll go. But tell her to call me, yeah? You will tell her?”
She glared at me. “I’ll tell her what you said, but she’s not gonna just roll over and play doormat, Darren, she’s fucking hurt. Shocked and hurt.”
“Tell her I’m fucking sorry, alright?”
“I’ll pass it on.”
“Righto,” I said.
Fuck.
Fuck all this.
My throat burned with words I wanted to say. So many fucking words, but none of them would mean shit. Not now.
“I’ll be off then,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “It’s for the best.”
Not for me it fucking wasn’t.
Lorraine called first thing in the morning, and again, and again, and again, over and over leaving messages about how she hoped I was ok, and how she was sorry I found out like that. She hoped I’d be in to work in the afternoon. Like I’d ever set foot in that fucking cafe again.