Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
“Do you think you’d enjoy it?”
“Enjoy it?! How could anyone not? Pete loves the gym. Lola loves swimming.”
“And how about you, sweetheart? What do you love?”
“Grand windows like that.” She laughed. “And yeah, I love swimming, too. I’ll love everything when it’s with you guys. Everything!”
Everything.
That twisted possessiveness came over me again. It was bizarre. She wasn’t going to be fucking Peter, that much was clear, but even the thought was enough to set my blood boiling. One could almost say it was a refreshing feeling. A passionate selfishness.
I enjoyed it. Strange, but true.
Two grand suites were available at the venue. I managed to secure both together for the very next weekend, and Rosie let out a squeal as she messaged Lola back with the link. In some ways I wished she hadn’t done that. The cost would be quite something to behold. She got back a nooooo, we couldn’t! But I was insistent. A nice break was on the cards, and they deserved one, as did my little angel. Hell, we all needed out of here.
The next few days were a countdown. College, writing, fucking like crazy, and building excitement.
Lola and Peter came to Crenham Drive early on Saturday morning before we set off on our trip, as I was happy to take my new little runaround of a car down into the city. I’d have usually cracked open a bottle of wine and a full whisky bottle if I wasn’t the driver, so it was a good job I was. Or was it? Was that the only reason I wasn’t already desperate to get the alcohol flowing?
No. I doubted it was. Not anymore.
My drinking had been decreasing steadily for weeks, yet I’d barely noticed – which was yet another beautiful thing that my sweetheart was inspiring in me. My commitment to both her, life, and my newfound writing passion were taking my focus off alcohol after years on end of being a drunk. Extraordinary, and a wonderful surprise.
As was the response I’d received last week from the editor I’d messaged, but I was keeping that card close to my chest for now.
I had both mine and Rosie’s travel cases in my hands, along with my suit hanger as we descended from the block, and Pete was carrying his and Lola’s. There was a thrum of excitement between the four of us, all of us thrilled by the thought of the weekend ahead, but my mood plummeted to the kerb of fuck’s sake when I saw the massive, lime green sprayed cock on the bonnet of my car. Brilliant. Not only that, but they’d sprayed the word pervert up the driver’s side, and the scribble was even rougher than my shitty marker handwriting after a night on the whisky, it was so goddamn awful. What a mess. Absolute fucking idiocy. The words were still legible though, unfortunately.
“Fucking hell,” Peter said, dropping his cases to check it out. “What are we gonna do now? Get a cab or a train or something?”
But no. Screw that. I felt the rage boil. Sick of being fucking humiliated, judged and trashed by the small-minded fools in Crenham Drive. I saw red, and I didn’t give a flying fuck whether there was a spray-painted cock on my car. The world could fuck off and handle it.
“We’re going to take the car anyway,” I told Peter, as the girls looked on, aghast. “The hotel courtyard will have to handle it. The other guests can laugh and point, if they like. Quite frankly, I couldn’t care less. We are as entitled to car parking spaces as they are, and as entitled to the hotel’s finest, just like them.”
My attitude seemed to inspire Peter somehow. He nodded, and smirked, then gave a shrug.
“Yeah, fuck ’em. Who gives a shit, right?”
He had, in fact. He had given a great deal of a shit just a short while ago, and so had the rest of us, but our immunity was growing stronger, and rightly so. Crenham could go fuck itself, and so could Dine’s Green. London was calling, and my spray-painted car was going to get us there. To hell with the lime green cock on it.
The girls were keen to sit together in the back, chatting away happily. There was a quiet solidarity growing between me and Pete, and it was a pleasure to be at his side.
“Good call on driving this thing,” he said. “You’ve got balls.”
“Thank you. You’ve got equally enough balls to share the journey in it. So have the princesses in the back seat.”
“Guess we’re all getting hardcore now, in our own little fucked up circle.”
“The circle will be a lot bigger tonight,” I chuckled. “Just wait until you see the club.”
I’d picked out one of the biggest in the city, purchasing VIP passes for the high-class bar upstairs as an additional extra. Quite a social. I couldn’t wait to see the girls dancing together, and in there we’d have anonymity. Bliss.