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)
There were some grumbles, but most of them took it just fine. It’s not as if they had a choice.
I’d have my shit together by then, I had to have my shit together by then.
I ventured out for a cigarette just before lunch, walked into a load of banter that would normally have amused the fuck out of me, but not today.
Today’s humour was at Petey’s expense. Some fucking idiot had loosened the lid on a big can of lubricant then sent the lad over to pick it up. Cue the inevitable fucking mess of spilled lubricant all over the fucking floor.
The lads were in hysterics, cracking all the pissing jokes about Petey spurting it everywhere, Petey dropping his load everywhere, flooding the place before he’d even got the fucking lid off.
Poor kid was beetroot, looked like he was gonna fucking cry.
I lit my cigarette and told them to knock it off. It only made them laugh all the harder.
“What’s up with you, boss?” Jimmy goaded. “On your fucking monthlies or something?”
“Just sick of your shit,” I said. “It’s fucking tiring, Jimmy. Someone better get a mop and bucket and clean that fucking mess up quick sharp.”
He pulled a scowl, never knowing quite when to shut his fucking mouth. “This little hissy fit ain’t got nothing to do with us fucking your missus by any chance?”
“Leave it, Jimmy,” Buck said. “Just fucking leave it.”
“I won’t fucking leave it,” Jimmy said. “He told us to fucking do it, now he’s got his frilly fucking knickers in a twist. Do the crime, take the time. Don’t like what went down, suck it up and get fucking on with it.”
I glared at him. “Are you quite fucking finished?”
He nodded, gave me the usual Jimmy O swagger. “Yeah, I’m finished,” he said. “Just telling it like it is.”
I took a drag on my cigarette then stubbed it out, made my way back over to them. “This is how it fucking is,” I said. “We’re taking a break for a few weeks, I’m booking in nothing til mid-November.”
“Why?” Hugh asked. “Christmas is coming, was counting on the cash for that.”
I shrugged. “You’ll have plenty of backlog to catch up on before Christmas, Hugh. Overtime here, too. The diary’s rammed full of car shit.”
“This is bullshit,” Jimmy snapped. “Putting the dampeners on everything just because you can’t get your dick in fucking line.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I barked. “Got no fucking problem with my dick, Jimmy.”
He laughed. “Yeah right, mate. Don’t think we didn’t fucking notice your little erectile dysfunction issues last week.”
“You’re talking fucking shit,” I said. “Did I look like I had erectile dysfunction issues this fucking weekend, Jimmy?”
He shrugged. “You sat on the reserves bench for most of it, how would we fucking know?” Buck shook his head, told Jimmy to leave it, but Jimmy was on a roll. “Why don’t you pop some little blue pills and get over yourself? Save us all the fucking bullshit.”
“Why don’t you just shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you?” I said.
“You want a piece?” Jimmy said. He dropped his spanner, slapped his hands on his chest. “It’s not my fucking fault your missus wanted my fucking dick, Trent. You just gotta deal with that shit.”
I pictured Jodie riding Jimmy’s cock, his grubby hands on her waist. His face between her legs. I was up and at him before he’d really prepared for it, but Buck pre-empted me, pushed his way between us while Hugh grabbed hold of Jimmy. I swung for him but I was too far back, too many fucking bodies in the way to get a punch in.
“What the fuck?!” Buck yelled. “Jesus Christ, guys, just chill the fuck out! Leave it! Just fucking leave it!”
He shunted me backwards once, twice, three times until I’d calmed down enough to shake off the red mist, but even then I was seething, on the edge of blowing my fucking fuse all over again.
I held my hands up. “Alright,” I said. “I’m fucking calm!”
Buck wrapped his arm around my shoulders to be sure, steered me back outside. “Fucking hell, Trent,” he said. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
I said nothing.
“Is this about the shit with Jodie? Christ, mate, nobody was out to cross any lines. You said it was fine. You said you’d be cool with it.”
“I am,” I lied. “This is just about Jimmy and his running fucking mouth.”
“If you say so,” he said.
“I do fucking say so.”
He sighed. Patted my back. “Look, Trent, you want to hold off until mid-November, we’ll hold off until mid-November. It’s your fucking gig.”
I had nothing to say, so I said nothing at all, just pulled out another cigarette and lit up like I hadn’t just launched myself at one of my employees.
The prick was fucking asking for it.