by Lesley Jones
I watch as she slowly licks her lips and asks slowly, “What did you tell her?”
I pull away from Jimmie so that she can wipe her eyes on the cuff of her sweatshirt sleeves.
“She told me that she’s worried about you. How’d you cut your eye and break your wrist, Paige, and don’t even attempt to bullshit me.”
“None of your fucking business,” she snaps back at me. I’m shocked, but try not to show it.
We’ve always been close, and she’s never spoken to me like this before.
“You’re my niece, that’s my best friend, your dad’s my brother. I’m making it my fucking business.”
She flinches at the harshness of my tone, and alarm bells instantly start to ring. Paige has always been confident and feisty. The girl standing in front of me now appears to be anything but those things.
“I tripped up a couple of concrete steps when I came out of the club Saturday night. I put my hand out to stop my fall and landed awkwardly on my wrist, kept going forward and hit my face and brow. I was drunk, it was my own fault.”
I don’t believe a word she’s saying, but that’s probably because not only does this involve a member of my family, but also involves the son of Rocco Taylor and Haley White. As much as I’d like to consider myself a fair person and give RJ the benefit of the doubt, in reality, I don’t. In my head, I’m already on the phone to Cam, telling him to track RJ down—wherever he might be in the world—and deliver a message that he’s to stay the fuck away from my niece and every other member of my family.
With that message, I’d also like a little warning sent, a clue or a hint given as to what the consequences might be if he doesn’t comply. Just a small one . . . nothing that hurts too much.
“Sit down,” I order. “You want a tea or a coffee? You need to eat, too, you look like you’re about to snap.”
“Says my aunt who has less fat on her than a lettuce leaf.”
“Sit down and shut up before I slap your skinny arse,” I again order.
“I’ll make some eggs,” Jimmie says while moving towards the fridge.
“I’ll do it,” I suggest.
“No!” They actually both shout the word out at the same time. I hold my hands up in surrender.
“Okay, chill the fuck out. I’ll put the kettle on, is that all right?”
“Can you burn water?” Paige directs her question at Jimmie, and we all laugh.
“Georgia could burn the sun,” she responds, and for a little while, we drink tea, eat scrambled eggs on toast, and talk shit. Paige continues to deny that RJ had anything to do with her injuries, and Jim and I continue not believing her.
Eventually, I bring up the subject of Christmas.
“Nina, Conner, and the kids are coming to ours for Christmas this year.”
I watch as Jimmie’s eyes slide to Paige, and I know I’ve said something wrong.
“Really? Why’s that? I thought they usually spent it with his family.”
Jimmie plasters on a smile as she speaks, but it’s as fake as a politician’s promise.
“Yeah, they do, but his dad’s going on a cruise and one of his brothers is doing something or another, so they all just decided to do their own thing this year. Ash mentioned that they were coming to ours, then asked me if they could come, so I called her and invited them.”
Paige puts her fork down, her food unfinished. Jimmie does the same.
“What you doing, d’ya know yet?” I aim my question at Paige. When I asked her last, she said she didn’t know if she would be in the country due to work commitments. Because she’s just told me that she’s had to cancel all of her work for the next six weeks, I’m assuming that’s no longer the case.
“Can I bring RJ and his mum?” The tone she uses to ask the question tells me she already knows what I’ll say, but I almost choke as I answer.
“No.” I don’t hesitate with my response. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart. “Absolutely not. Never in a million years would I have that oxygen thief in my home or around my family. I can’t believe you’d even ask me.”
She shrugs.
She fucking shrugs as if what she just asked for is another cup of tea or for me to pass her a pen.
“Don’t ask, don’t get.”
“But you must’ve known what my answer would be. Have you any concept of what that woman did to me?”
“Its ancient history and she’s dying.”
“Well, she best hurry the fuck up and get dead. The world’ll be a much better place when she does.”
“She’s a human being, Georgia, one that happens to be my boyfriend’s mum.”
“She also happens to be the cunt who falsified a rape claim against my husband and brother and then stole four years of my life.”
I stand and push back the stool I’ve been sitting on. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I can’t fucking think straight.
“Well, then the answers no, I won’t be there.”
I nod. I’m wounded to the core and can’t believe she’d choose her over me. I feel an ache of betrayal bloom in my belly and the burn of tears in my eyes.
“I need to go Jim. I can’t be around her right now.”
Jimmie follows me as I head towards the front door.
“Now do you see what I’m dealing with, George? I stayed quiet so you could see. I don’t know my own daughter.”
I stop at the front door and turn and face my best friend, my sister.
“I love you, Jim. I love all of you, and I totally understand if you want to have Christmas here so that you can spend it with Paige, but there is absolutely no fucking way I’m having that woman anywhere near me and mine.”
Jimmie shakes her head. “I’m not generally a violent person, but you’ve no idea how hard it was in there not to slap my own kid. I don’t want him or his mother here, and right now, I don’t want to be around Paige, either.” I pull her in for a cuddle. “I’m so sorry,” she says into my ear.
“Don’t be, none of this is your fault.”
“Yeah, I keep trying to remind myself of that. Dry your eyes, I don’t want you driving like that. You won’t be able to see properly.”
I give a small smile and kiss her cheek.
“Yes, Mum, I promise to drive careful. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she responds as I head out to my car.
I feel like my head’s about to explode.
What a morning.
First Tallulah and now Paige.
Perhaps it’s not them. Perhaps it’s me who’s the total bitch.
I call Cam.
“Kitten. You calmed the fuck down?”
I both smile and cry at the sound of his voice. Where would I be without this man and the way that he loves me?
“Barely. Did they all make it to school all right?”
“Yep, now I’m home all alone, sitting in my office answering emails.”
“I’m five minutes away, what d’ya wanna do?”
“You in every orifice.”
“I’ll allow you inside two and neither will be my bum.”
“You’re no fucking fun.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Oh, I’ll take it one of these days. Drive careful, but get home quick. I love ya.”
“Love you, too.”
I end the call with a smile on my face. My shitty morning made better by the man who constantly rocks my world.
Chapter Six
Cam
Marley looks up from his gift and directly at my wife, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he smiles.
“It’s perfect,” he says quietly.
Georgia shrugs. “I thought maybe it was time for a new one.”
“Abso-fuckin’-lutely it is.” He stares down at the black leather guitar strap she’d had made for him and runs it between his finger and thumb.
Georgia had explained to me that she used to buy both Sean and Marley a new one every year as a gift. She would use her
dressmaking contacts and have them stitched with the band’s logo. Marley’s would also have the initials BBM—Big Brother Marley—stitched into it, and Sean’s would have G&S TWIMTB—Georgia And Sean. The Way It’s Meant To Be. When she lost Sean, she stopped the tradition, but this year, for some reason, has seen a massive turning point in the way she’s dealt with the loss, and she’s gifted her brother something that obviously means a lot to him.
“Ohhh, leather. You gonna tie me up or whip me with it later?” Ash leans over Marley’s shoulder and asks.
His eyes dart up, and he scans the room, making sure none of the kids or his parents have heard her remark.
“Gag you with it if you don’t shut up.”
“Oh, Rock Star, that works, too. Can’t wait.”
“You’re giving me a boner in front of my parents, baby.”
“I got under the dinner table and gave you a bl—”
“Ash,” I snap. “Little ears.” I gesture towards Conner and Nina’s boys, who are playing with the action figures they’ve just unwrapped.
While Conner is laughing, Nina, who’s a lot quieter than Ash, Jimmie, and Georgia, is staring wide-eyed.
“Sorry,” Ash calls out to anyone that wants to listen.
It’s the end of another Christmas day.
Our home has been filled with noise and chaos for almost forty-eight hours now, but things are starting to wind down.
The girls just need to get the message.
Georgia’s parents have gone off to bed and so have Bailey, Sam, their kids and Conner and Nina’s boys. The younger adults and teenagers are scattered around the house doing fuck knows what, but it’s Christmas, 3.20am boxing day morning to be precise, and I’m past caring.
“If I hear this song one more time, I might just shoot someone,” Lennon states as I top up his glass.
“Don’t let Georgia hear you say that. She’s had this shit playing nonstop for the past three weeks.”
“Jimmie’s the same. The house has been lit up like Blackpool since the first of—” He stops and then corrects, “The end of November.”
We give each other a nod, both knowing the importance of the date he was going to say.
The first of December is always a tough day for Georgia. Always has been, always will be. I’ve learnt over the years just to play it by ear. Some years the day goes by quietly, others it’s manic. What has become a tradition is that it’s the date the house gets decorated for Christmas. I think this is just a way to keep her brain occupied and busy.
This year, things changed though. It was like a switch had been flipped inside of Georgia, and she finally found it within herself to leave her guilt behind and see past the grief.
I know there will forever be a part of her that isn’t just mine. A part that I will always share with Sean McCarthy and their babies. I can mostly deal with that. I have the odd moment of self-doubt, but I know that she loves me. I know that what we share is pretty fucking amazing and that we lucked out when we found each other again and then went on to have our kids.
She’s the other part of me. I don’t go in for all the mushy bullshit, but I am seriously not complete if I’m not around her.
Despite sometimes being a mouthy, stubborn, selfish pain in the arse, she has always loved me fiercely and with so much passion that it blows me away. To have gone through all that she has and still have that capacity to love our kids and me the way she does astounds me.
I watch Georgia now as she messes with the laptop connected to the Karaoke machine. We bought that thing as a joint present for the twins a few years back, but it’s the triplets, the terrible trio of Georgia, Jimmie, and Ash who put it to most use. Tonight, they’re joined by Nina.
The girls have just finished murdering “Santa Baby” and are now debating which song should be up for slaughter next.
That’s a lie, actually. Georgia has a great fucking voice, the other three, not so much.
I watch my wife as she smiles towards the laptop, knocks back the champagne that’s in her glass, and turns towards Marley.
“Big brother Marley, come sing with me?” The other girls boo and hiss at being outed, but Georgia just turns her beautiful smile and her glassy eyes towards me. My heart rate accelerates, the way it has done for over thirty years now. The way it always will.
She’s my world.
I have a life I once never dared to hope for, but I got it, and it’s all because of her.
“Top me up, Tiger!” she shouts over the microphone, and because I’m more of a pussy than a Tiger where she’s concerned, I pull a bottle of the bubbly from the ice bucket on the coffee table and head towards her.
I hear a kercha sound from behind me as someone tries to mimic the sound of a whip cracking and turn to give Marley and Reed my middle finger before giving my wife my undivided attention.
I quickly move the bottle of Krug out of the way as Georgia wraps her arms around my neck and slams herself into me.
“Merry Christmas, T. I love you so fucking much.”
“You’re drunk,” I reply.
“Drunk, sober, or somewhere between, I still fucking love ya.”
“Yeah?”
“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, baby.”
“Does that mean I get anal tonight?”
She throws her head back and laughs. My dick twitches, and I can’t help but grind my hips against her.
“Easy, Tiger.” She licks her lips while still grinning at me. “Nice try, but no. That thing is never going to be banging my back doors in, not ever. I can think of somewhere else you can put it, though.”
She’s swaying us from side to side as she speaks, and I can’t help but smile at her drunken attempts to stay upright and focused.
“Yeah, you may be wanna put my baby sister down, King. She might be your wife, but she’s also my singing partner.”
I turn to see Marley heading towards us.
“You tell him, Rock Star!” Ash shouts from somewhere, probably two streets away with her big mouth.
I kiss Georgia’s lips and then her nose. “Sing with your brother, Kitten. Your audience is getting restless.”
“I’m not done with you yet, so don’t go far.”
She attempts to wink at me as I step away, but instead, it turns into a sort of long, drawn-out blink, and I can’t help but chuckle. I love seeing her relaxed amongst her family and friends like this, but I’ve learned from years of loving this amazing woman, that when she’s been drinking, one wrong word said, a song played, an event mentioned, anything that stirs up past painful memories and it’ll be instant tears.
I retreat far enough away to be able to take in the show and stand next to Jimmie. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pull her into my side, and kiss the top of her head.
“You all right?” I question.
Jimmie and Len have had a tough couple of weeks with their eldest daughter, and I know they’ve both been worried sick about her.
“Not bad, it’s not been the easiest of days. We’ve not heard a word from her.” I nod, but really, I have no clue how she must be feeling.
“Queenie doing all right?” Jim asks, obviously wanting to change the subject.
“For now.” I smile down at her as I speak and notice that she too can barely focus.
“What exactly the fuck did they put in that champagne?” I ask her.
She laughs and shrugs. “Dunno, but it’s fucking great.”
We both fall silent for a moment as we watch Georgia and Marley break into song. It’s Elton John and Kiki Dee’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” It’s been their party piece since they were kids and the reason my daughter is called Kiki.
“She’s so lucky to have you, you know that, right?”
My chest feels strange, and my throat constricts. I give a small laugh.
“I think it’s the other way around, Jim.”
“There’s no one else out there that could have saved her. No one else that could’ve put her back together the way yo
u have. No one else that would put up with her shit the way you do.”
“You’ve been her best mate almost her entire life. You never seem to have a problem putting up with her.”
Jimmie gives me another unfocused, wonky grin and a shrug. “What can I say, I love the skinny bitch.”
I laugh. These girls love each other to the point that I’m actually jealous of how close they are, but they insult each other like they are each other’s worst enemies. Even so, God help anyone else that throws an insult in the direction of any of them, because they’ll soon unite. Georgia, Jimmie, and Ash are a force to be reckoned with individually, but when they join forces, you better get your running shoes on.
“Ditto. Although, I’ve gotta say that my wife ain’t skinny, she’s fucking perfect.”
“You’ve got your beer goggles on, Cam. I’ve seen more fat on a chip.”
I look up as I hear Georgia call into the mic, “Tiger. This way. Now!”
She hands the mic to her brother, grabs my hand, and marches me out of the room to the sound of wolf whistles, clapping and oi oi-ing.
“Dare I ask where the fuck we’re going?” I follow her swaying form out to our laundry. She pulls me into the room, slams the door behind us, and launches herself at me.
Her mouth slams down on mine, and her legs wrap around my waist, her arms around my neck.
I step forward a few paces and lift her up, sitting her back down on the edge of the worktop.
“I need you,” she pleads. Her hot breath hits my ear and the side of my neck. It’s all the encouragement I need.
“Lift your arms baby.” Her top has buttons down the middle, but I can’t be fucked wasting time with that shit and just pull it off over her head.
“Bra,” I order.
“Love it when you’re bossy.”
“No you don’t. You cop the hump when I tell you what to do.”
The room is almost pitch dark, but I can just make out her beautiful smile.
“Not when we’re having sex I don’t. I love it when you take charge.”
I know this, and even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t change anything. Georgia gets away with most things where I’m concerned, but in the bedroom, I’m the fucking boss.