Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“She left at ten.”
“She probably needed her morning poo,” Ringo mutters, and we all turn half amused half questioning looks onto him. “What?” he asks. “Women are like clockwork, aren’t they? Same time every morning?”
“And men aren’t?” Goldie looks at Ringo like he’s another species. I’m beginning to think he is.
“No, men shit in the evening.”
I laugh, looking at the others, hoping I’m not alone. They’re all looking at Ringo with expressions that basically say what the fuck? “You shit in the evening?” Otto asks him.
“Yeah, I shit in the evening. Don’t you?”
“No, I shit in the morning.”
“I shit every three days,” Nolan says, thoughtful. “Could be morning or evening. It’s a bit inconvenient, to be honest.” He looks at Goldie. “When do you shit?”
She gets up and walks away, increasing my laughter. She only wants to be a part of the gang when it suits her.
“Well shit,” Ringo sighs. “I always thought it was a man-woman thing.”
“What the fuck made you think that?” Brad asks him.
“When I was a kid, all my mates had a shit when they got home from school. Stanley, my best pal, he had a sister, and he told me she shat in the mornings, as did all her friends. So, yeah, men shit in the evenings, and women shit in the mornings. It’s because women are organized, you see. They think ahead. It starts when they’re girls. They don’t want to be shitting in the school toilets because they’re fucking grim. Boys don’t have that foresight. We would dash home from school to shit. Obviously, there were the odd few who got caught short and were forced to shit in the school toilets, hence they were grim.”
I look at Ringo, my mouth hanging open, as he shows the ceiling his palms. “You’ve thought way too much about shitting, Ringo.”
“That may be so, but apparently it’s been a waste.” He looks at Nolan. “Are you sure you only shit every three days?”
“Yeah.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” I say, toasting Nolan’s shitting habits.
He looks worried. “What does it mean?”
“It means that more often than not, you’re full of shit.”
Everyone laughs, including James and Brad, which is an achievement on my part. “Anything on John Theodore Little?” I ask Otto, getting a shake of his head. “What about Higham?”
“Len’s bringing him here.”
I nod. Good. Let’s hear what he has to say about his coffee dates with the journalist. “I’ve heard from Amber.”
Not surprisingly, Ringo’s and Otto’s ear prick up, and I’m sure Goldie’s have too. I can’t see her to know. “Does she want to get back together?” Ringo asks.
I smile. Rose wouldn’t. She’d kill. “She mentioned a teddy bear.”
“Oh really?” Otto twiddles his beard, and Ringo’s lips straighten into a grim line.
“Really. I’m meeting her at the house at three.”
“Is that wise?”
Probably not. “All the girls are out for a pamper day.”
“Not true,” Ringo nods to Goldie, who gets herself back on the stool next to him, her lip curled in disgust. “Since you find me so repulsive,” he goes on, “why don’t you join the girls for a pamper day?”
“Why don’t you,” she retorts, looking down at her watch, “have a colonic, since you’re so full of shit too. It’s nearly time to evacuate.”
“Enough,” I say, smiling around the rim of my glass.
“I’ve got something,” Nolan says, raising his hand. “I need to replace one of the girls.”
Oh? I lower my glass, not liking his shifty persona.
“Which one?” Brad asks.
Nolan looks away, muttering something. “The one we found in the office with him,” James says, and Brad curses.
“Oh dear.” I give Brad a look that says, you hired him, you deal with it. “Did she get a bit of a handful?”
Nolan breathes out, his cheeks ballooning. “She’s got a bit attached, yes.”
I laugh. “And what lesson have we learned today, students?”
Nolan rolls his eyes and trudges off, and I ignore the looks of utter disbelief coming at me from everyone else. They can fuck off. Rose is different. Nolan stops and looks back. “Hey, what about those two girls you picked up?” He clicks his fingers constantly, thinking. “Pearl and Anya.”
My eyes automatically go to Brad, my lips pressed together around the rim of my glass. He seems to have frozen in place. Did he hear? I can’t be sure; he looks a bit vacant. So just in case . . . “He said—”
“I fucking heard.” Brad stalks off, holding his shoulder. “Do what the fuck you like,” he growls. “But if you fuck another member of staff, I’ll fuck you with a hammer drill.”
“It’d be way less comfortable than the blender,” James says under his breath, making Nolan snort his laughter. I’m obviously not in on this private joke, but I give the kid a look to suggest he best rein himself in before Brad, the moody fucker, goes crazy on his arse.