Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Tess steals my answer.
Cheater.
We stay another hour or so, Jennifer remaining the hot topic of conversation the entire time. My mum interrogates the poor girl, requesting her whole damn life story. She answers every question, but I feel a little sorry for her. My mum’s great, but she can come across a little intimidating until you get to know her. She’s fiercely protective of Tom and I and, although she makes a fuss of Jennifer, she makes her stance clear with not-so-subtle comments that imply if she hurts Tom, she’ll hurt her.
That’s a mother’s blind spot right there. If anyone is going to fuck up their relationship it will be Tom and his overly sociable dick.
When Tom and Jennifer leave I decide Tess and I should head home, too, but now the centre of attention has gone, my mum’s questions turn to me instead.
“Any luck pitching your books to that Holder place?”
“It’s Holden House,” I correct. “And no. That’s not why I took the job,” I repeat for what must be the hundredth time since I applied for the position.
“Oh I know, I know,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I just want you to do well, baby boy.”
Tess is used to the ridiculous nickname my mum calls me now, but I remember a time when she would rip the piss out of me for days at a time over it.
“I am,” I counter. “I’ve got over two thousand likes on my Facebook page.”
“Two thousand?” She presses a hand to her chest. “Two thousand people know my son’s name?”
“Well, my pen name,” I say, but I don’t think she hears me. Either that or she doesn’t care about the semantics.
“Wait until I tell Pauline!” Pauline is my aunty. She lives in Devon and I only see her at Christmas. “That’s so exciting!”
“I think so,” I agree, feeling proud from her enthusiasm.
“They must be good books then, eh?”
“They are,” Tess chips in. “You should totally read one.”
My mum shudders. “Oh no. I prefer to think my boy doesn’t know anything about the kind of dirty stuff he writes about. The reviews are enough for me.”
“You read my reviews?” I don’t know why but that shocks me a little. I’ve always known she’s proud of me but it’s not something we often discuss.
“Some of them. I avoid the bad ones. They break my heart. Everyone should like you, and some of them are just plain nasty. Doesn’t that upset you?”
I smile at her concern. “Not anymore,” I answer honestly. “You can’t please everyone.”
“Yes you can. You’re mine, and you’re perfect.”
“They’re judging the story, not me.”
Well, some of them judge me, but they’re arseholes who I refuse to let blip on my radar. I don’t add that to the conversation because it would only worry her.
“We need to head off now, Mum. Tess is working early in the morning.” It’s a white lie but I always feel bad leaving her since my dad died. It’s been four years but she’s all alone in an empty house. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t bother her as much as it does me, but having an excuse makes it a little easier to leave.
She follows us to the front door and kisses first me, then Tess, on the cheek. “Call me when you get home safely.”
“I will. Thanks for dinner. It was gorgeous, as always.”
“Oh, wait there!” I hold the door open while she scurries away, returning a few seconds later with a plate wrapped in tinfoil. “Leftovers. You’ll eat it won’t you? I don’t want it going to waste.”
“Definitely.” It’s a lie. “I’ll eat it for supper.” I love my mum’s cooking but reheating potatoes should be a criminal offence. They taste like shit when warmed up several hours later.
On the way home Tess and I discuss Tom’s girlfriend and agree that she seems nice, but because we’re twats, we also take bets on how long it’ll last. My money is on two months. Tess, however, thinks two weeks tops. When we reach the flat I give my mum a quick call to let her know I haven’t died in a horrific car accident, and then grab my laptop. For the first time in too long, I’m excited about writing and plan to get stuck in right away.
“I’m going to the bedroom,” I say, assuming Tess is staying over again. “You coming?”
“Nah. I’m gonna watch TV for a bit, leave you alone to get in the zone.” She laughs but I don’t get the joke. “Hey, that rhymed! Maybe I should be a writer.”
“Spell onomatopoeia.”
“Fuck off.”
Tess always spent occasional nights over at my old flat, but since I moved to Manchester it’s become a regular thing. I don’t mind, I like the company in fact, but as I settle into bed I wonder if I should ask her to move in permanently. It seems stupid to shell out rent on a place she’s barely at and, in all honesty, I could do with a little extra cash to furnish my living room.
Once I’m propped up against the headboard, my laptop open on my knees, I push Tess out of my mind. Closing my eyes, I bring all the conflicting emotions I feel for James to the surface, reliving every moment with him, every thought I’ve had about him, and then put them into words.
Several hours later, feeling satisfied, and positive about my work tonight, I close the laptop and yawn. It’s almost three AM and I feel bubbles dancing in my stomach knowing I get to see James again in just a few hours. Grinning to myself, I put the laptop on my bedside table, shuffle onto my side and drape one arm over Tess, who’s been snoring like a foghorn next to me since midnight. Closing my eyes, I don’t expect to get much sleep and decide I need to invest in some damn earplugs.
**********
The next day, Stacey collars me in the cafeteria and asks to speak to me about an email I sent out last week. Leaving Ed, Katie, and another girl whose name I don’t know at the lunch table, I follow Stacey to her office.