by T L Swan
However the hell you put it, he has long forgotten me. My heart sinks.
“Oohh,” Bridget gasps, “has he got a girlfriend?”
Mum hunches her shoulders. “I have no idea. No one special I don’t think. His mother would have loved gloating if he had.” A cold shiver runs down my back. His mother, piece of work that she is, loves nothing better than to gloat to me how great Joshua is doing. How wealthy Joshua is. How many beautiful models Joshua dates. If I didn’t know better, I would say she is rubbing it in my face. Although I know she has no idea about what happened between us. Nobody does. Maybe that’s the problem—I’ve lived all these years without telling a soul. I need to vent. My feelings swing from lovesick to angry, to resentful to hateful, and back to broken–hearted, all within an hour. While he lives this exciting full life I’m still here, the village idiot, pining over a man that doesn’t even know I exist. I’m pathetic. Well he’s going to know I exist after this wedding because I am going to look so unbelievably hot. I’m going to rub his sorry ass in it. I narrow my eyes as I rethink my diabolical plan. Look hot, turn him on, lead him on and then reject him. He’s going to be begging for mercy by the time I’m finished with him, if I have to ram it down his puny throat. I’ve been planning this for six months. Operation payback is going to be a bitch. I smile. I think the only relief I’m going to get is satisfaction that I have the last word. I had no say in our demise, although it has haunted me for years. Perhaps that was the problem. I lied to him about our breakup. Told him what he needed to hear and not the truth. I’ve been overanalysing this for years. In my clinical opinion I am suffering guilt–associated trauma. I need to eventually tell him the truth somewhere down the track so I can just move the hell on, and he can release me from this invisible Spiderman hold he has on me. He is the last person I think of every night. I wonder who he’s with now and whether he ever thinks of me and misses me like I miss him. I’m sad, sad to my bones, a deep regretful sadness that I can’t shake. No matter how hard I try. My seemingly normal existence and happiness is a stage–show. Not all the time. I am happy. I just feel an emptiness like something’s missing—a hole in my life—maybe perhaps similar to someone who grieves a person who has died, a mother who has lost a child. Even when I am happy there is an emptiness that somehow won’t go away. And the memories. God, the memories. They haunt me. My mind wanders constantly, imagining us together in bed, snuggled up, making love for hours and hours. His tenderness, his adoration of me and my body. He did love me when we were together I know this for certain, it was just so long ago. So why in the hell am I still in love with him after all this time? Am I even in love with him? I don’t even know him. I know my emotions are coming to a head because he’s due to touch down in Sydney anytime and I will, no doubt, see him. I’m excited and terrified at the same time.
“Does Joshua still play polo?” I ask, feigning nonchalance.
“Ahuh, apparently he has a stables property and his horses are worth millions.” I nod, disappointed by the answer.
“His mother said he is right into kickboxing now.”
“Kickboxing?” I repeat as I frown. “That’s random.”
“Yes I know.”
“What colour did you say your dress is, Bridget?”
“White.”
“White!” I exclaim. “You can’t wear white.”
“Who cares,” she smiles. “I need to look hot. Josh might be bringing some hot guys to the wedding.”
“Haven’t we just been hearing all about Jeremy for the last hour?” Mum looks to the ceiling in frustration.
“Yeah, Jeremy Schmeremy,” she rolls her eyes. “You know my boyfriend’s a dick.” We all laugh.
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Me too,” Mum laughs and we all clink coffee cups. “Hurry up and dump him already.”
Sydney Airport 5.23 pm, Sunday
Joshua Stanton’s private jet comes slowly to a halt on the tarmac. On board are Ben his large South African bodyguard, Adrian his personal assistant, eight computers with software and a computer technician for each computer. The computer techs are all typical computer geeks.
“I have a large van and driver at your disposal,” Joshua tells the lead tech head.
“Ok, that’s great,” he nods.
“You are all booked in at the Sheraton on Hyde Park for the next three days until you all decide where you are staying. Stay in touch with Adrian with the details. The driver will pick you and the equipment up at 9.00 am in the morning and take you to the office space we have hired.”
“Thanks, Mr Stanton.”
“You all have company credit cards, just charge what you need.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Joshua and Adrian wait as Ben picks up the car keys from the rental company. Ben is flicking through the pages of his iPad double time.
“What the fuck are you doing there?” Josh frowns as he looks over Adrian’s shoulder.
“Trying to get my bearings. I’m on maps and it isn’t making sense.” He turns the screen around to look at it upside down and holds his head to the side.
“Yeah that app is useless; we really should design a decent one.” Joshua looks around disinterested, glances at his chunky Rolex watch and puts one hand into the pocket of his navy three–piece suit. He’s wearing black Oxfords, a crisp white shirt and black tie, and his chocolate hair is buzz cut. His piercing blue eyes scan the lobby of the airport. His skin is darkened from his recent surfing trip to the Maldives. “I forgot how hot Aussie girls are,” he makes an idle observation while rubbing his chin.
“Yes, I can’t wait to check out the Aussie men, apparently they are off the charts.”
Joshua smiles. “That goes without saying.” He widens his eyes at Adrian.
“Hmm they’re conceited too, I found out,” Adrian scowls.
“Totally,” Josh raises one eyebrow and nods his head, still scanning the room.
Ben returns, pushing a trolley of luggage. “This way,” he gestures.
“This being on the wrong side of the road thing is weird,” Ben smirks while driving.
Joshua smiles as he sits in the front passenger seat, Adrian in the back seat. Joshua starts programming the Nav Man.
“What are you doing?” Ben asks.
“We are taking a quick detour,” Josh answers.
“Really?” Adrian whines. “I need to take a leak.”
“Shut up, enough of the back–seat driving, who’s fucking this duck?” Adrian rolls his eyes in the rearview mirror at Ben who smiles at the usual banter. Adrian scowls as he leans his head back into the headrest. “And for the record, I don’t fuck ducks.”
Josh smiles and nods. “Good to know.” Twenty–five minutes later they are driving up a one–way street in Rose Bay.
“Where the hell are we going?” Adrian asks. Josh doesn’t answer as he cranes his neck and looks up the road.
“It should be just up here on the right. Pull in here.” He points to the left. He sits with his elbow on the car door, his thumb under his chin, rubbing the side of his pointer finger back and forward over his lips, deep in thought. They sit in silence for ten minutes.
“Mind telling me why we are here?” Ben asks quietly.
“Someone I used to know lives in that dark brick building over there.” He points to the large older style apartment block across the road, still deep in thought.
“And we are here, because?”
“I want to find out what apartment 5B is. It looks like there are two apartments on each level. Is the left side A or B?”
“I‘ll go look,” Ben hops out of the car and heads across the road. Josh stays silent, deep in thought. Adrian sits quietly in the back, assessing the situation, trying to work out what the hell is going on. Whatever it is, Josh is acting weird, really weird.
Ben returns. “It’s on the right, five levels up.”
“Did you get in? Isn’t there a security door?”
“No, I went in when som
eone left.”
Joshua nods and looks up. “She’s home.”
“Looks that way,” replies Ben. They all stay silent for another ten minutes, then Josh gets out of the car and walks around to the road–side of the car, resting his rear on the door. His hands in his suit pant pockets, his feet crossed in front of him, he continues looking up at the window. Adrian and Ben follow, each standing on either side of him, also leaning on the car.
“What’s going on?” Adrian asks quietly. Josh stays silent. Ben blows out a breath—the dark mood Joshua has slipped into is concerning.
“Why don’t you just go in and knock, man?” Joshua doesn’t move—he’s unresponsiveand a depressive demeanour hangs over him.
“Do you want me to go in and knock?” Adrian asks, but Joshua shakes his head.
“How long since you’ve seen this girl?” Ben asks.
“Seven and a half years,” Joshua answers flatly.
“Does she know you’re back in town?” He shakes his head again. “So where do your parents live from here?” Adrian opens the back car door and gets out his iPad.
“Toorak, Melbourne. About twelve hours south.” Adrian and Ben frown at each other.
“But I thought we were here for three months so you can see your family?”
“Yes we are, but they are in another state.”
“Please don’t tell me we are in Sydney for this girl?” Joshua is still staring up to apartment 5B.
“Maybe,” he answers. “To be truthful I have no idea what we are doing here, I feel unsettled already.”
Ben raises his eyebrows. “Joshua Stanton unsettled by a woman, never thought I’d see the day.”
“It’s… complicated.” He blows out a breath.
Adrian’s mouth drops open. “But I thought you said.”
“Yeah, I lied.”
“So this girl… is her name… Natasha?”
Joshua hangs his head and blows out a breath. “Yes,” he answers.
“Hmm a part of the jigsaw puzzle fits into place,” Ben smiles. “So you do have a heart?”
Joshua smirks. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Adrian lies on his back across the bonnet and blows out a breath, hands behind his head. “You know I think Rod Stewart was right on the money.” Joshua and Ben frown at each other and then him.
“You know, the first cut is the deepest.” All three men smile.
“That is true. You remember every minute detail. Come on, let’s go. Enough of this shit, she fucks with my head.”
“Aren’t we going in?” Adrian asks.
“No, I just wanted to see where she lives.”
“Does she have a boyfriend, married, what’s her story?”
“No, no nothing. Nothing I can dig up anyway.”
“You’ve kept tabs on her?”
“Yes, from a distance.”
“When did you last speak to her?” After a silence of five minutes, Josh blows out a breath and replies.
“Seven and a half years ago, the day she dumped me.” Adrian and Ben look at each other, the shock evident on their faces.
“So you haven’t spoken a word to her since?”
“Nope.”
“You haven’t called?”
“Nope.” They all look back to the window and the lights go off.
Ben urges for a second time. “Just go in man.”
“Even if I wanted to, the law forbids it.”
“She had a restraining order put on you?” Adrian gasps.
Joshua shakes his head. “No,” he answers quietly.
“Her parents did?”
Josh looks back up to the window. “Something like that. Get in the car, let’s go and don’t let me come back here. This is pointless.”
“Ok. But are we not here because of her? Isn’t that defeating the purpose?”
“Shut up dick,” Josh smiles at Adrian. “Stop making sense.” As the car speeds away Josh puts his head back into the seat and rubs his face.
“I need a drink, a strong fucking drink.”
11.50 pm, Bondi
Joshua leans over the railing of the balcony looking out to the ocean, sipping his Cointreau and ice out of a thick short crystal tumbler. The place Adrian has rented for him for the three months is swank, on the water. It is a little dated and well below the standard of his LA house. They chose it because it was the only one near a surf beach that had another house next door for Ben and Adrian. Having just run for an hour on the treadmill he is freshly showered and barefoot and wearing a loose pair of sweats and a white Bonds singlet. It’s March here. The first month of autumn, a cool briskness hangs in the air. Desperately trying to rein himself in from googling her and finding out her phone number he takes another sip of his liquor and enjoys the warmth as he swallows, temporarily closing his eyes.
“This is a fucking disaster. I should have stayed in Melbourne,” he mutters to himself. The doorbell rings and assuming it’s Adrian, he saunters to the front door and opens it. A beautiful caramel blonde in a trench coat and white high heels stands before him, a sexy smile playing on her lips.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Joshua Stanton,” she breathes in a husky voice.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve found him.”
“I’m a friend of Carson’s. He asked me to deliver your house–warming present.”
Joshua smiles and raises both his eyebrows. “Did he now, and what would that be?” She opens her coat and there she stands. White silk stockings, suspender belt, a lace white thong and short–cut white satin corset. Her body is tanned, toned and amazing. His jaw ticks, he bends his head to the left as if trying to crack his neck. His eyes scan up and down her body and he stands back, raising his hand, gesturing for her to enter.
“I do love house–warming presents.” He smiles a long sexy smile which she returns.
“You know, I think tonight for once, I will too.” She takes his hand. “I heard a little secret.”
“Oh yes, and what was that?”
“You like having your cock sucked.”
“You did, did you?” He smiles. “Show me a man who doesn’t.” He opens his eyes wide.
“Yes, it’s a coincidence don’t you think?” He looks at her puzzled. “Because tonight I’m in the mood to suck your cock dry.”
“Hmm. That is a mood that I like. Coincidental or not,” he smiles. “I do have great friends don’t I?” he adds.
“You do. I’m a very expensive house–warming gift.”
He unashamedly looks her up and down. “I can see that,” he leads her to the bar where he pours another Cointreau for himself.
“Do you want a drink?” He holds up his glass and tips his head to the side, cracking his neck again.
She shakes her head. “No thanks.”
He smiles, raises his eyebrows and takes her hand, leading her back to the foyer to go up the stairs to his bedroom, still carrying his drink.
“You know you are just the distraction I needed tonight.”
She smiles.
“What did you say your name was?” he asks.
“What do you want it to be?”
He continues walking up the stairs and stops mid step to turn and look at her. He narrows his eyes and puts his chin to an angle.
“My bedroom is this way… Natasha.”
Chapter 2
“I’m telling you he’s playing up,” Bridget whines.
“Oh fuck, not this again,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair, my elbows resting on the table.
“Just dump him already.”
“No, I need proof.”
“Why?” I scoff. “I’m over hearing about this wanker, it’s doing my head in.” I take my phone from my bag and check my messages, trying to block her out.
“Listen here, you,” she points her teaspoon at me to accentuate her point. “You listen to all kinds of crazy shit at work and you’re going to damn well listen to mine.” I roll my eyes.
&
nbsp; “Yeah, but I get paid for that and my patients actually respect my opinion and besides you’re different. I can tell you what I think and I think you should dump the prick.”
“So you think he’s a prick now?”
“No, you think he’s a prick.”
“When did I say that?”
“When you said he was playing up on you.”
“Oh god, don’t start your shrink shit with me, you’re twisting my words.”
I roll my eyes. “Listen if you don’t want my opinion, don’t ask for it.”
“Fine, I won’t.”
“Good, suits me.”
“What are you two arguing about?” Abbie joins us from the rest room.
“We are not arguing,” I moan.
“Yes we are, Tash thinks Jeremy is a prick”
Abbie laughs and nods, “Who doesn’t? Jeremy is a prick.” We are at our favourite coffee shop, Oscar’s. We meet there a couple of times a week. Oscar’s is small and unassuming. Its walls are dark timber panelling with big green–glass pendant lights hanging low over oversized chocolate leather lounges that have coloured scatter cushions all over them. Big wooden coffee tables adorn the centre of each setting. The clientele are eclectic, from normal girls like us to doctors and lawyers, punk rockers to gorgeous gay men. Great coffee music always adds to the ambience and atmosphere, although on the last four or five times it hasn’t been as enjoyable as normal. Abbie (Bridget and my best friend) and I have had to endure countless hours of Jeremy crap.
Bridget rummages through her bag. “Abbie, I bought you something,” she pulls out a white paper bag.
Abbie frowns, “What is it?”
Bridget smiles. “It’s a bumper sticker for your car.” She pulls it out and we all burst out laughing. It reads:
If you’re going to ride my ass
Can you at least pull my hair?
“That’s funny.” I can’t stop laughing.
“And you bought me this because?”