by Toni Aleo
It makes me a hoor.
Turning the water to the hottest setting, I get in, falling to the bottom of the shower as the tears pour out of me. It wasn’t supposed to end like this with Jackson. I was supposed to have fun. But here I am, crying my eyes out over a wanker who meant nothing to me.
And who made me feel nothing but more pain.
I basically don’t leave my room for the next week.
Instead, I binge-watch Stranger Things and eat my weight in hotel food.
Or better yet, hotel ice cream.
I never got to eat much ice cream back home. Ma always said it put the pounds on the arse, so she made sure I stayed away from it. I had to look perfect so I could attract someone who would accentuate our name. I always hated that. I had this crazy notion when I was a little girl that I’d find my prince in the woods, singing to Bambi or whatever. Instead, I was matched with Micah Jennings. A good mate, a nice mate, but I never really loved him.
Along with the fact that I wasn’t attracted to him in the least, I had still been so hung up on Casey that I never really gave Micah a chance. I don’t think he ever loved me either. He was in it for the name, for the money, and I don’t blame him one bit. I felt the same, and oh, I acted like it. I gave an Academy Award-winning performance every time he was around. And even with my ma ’cause I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell her I didn’t love him. She’d have lost it. When I did break it off, she got angry, but I left. I moved away to live on my own, and boy, was it great.
So damn great.
Lying on my side, I catch a glance of my arse hanging out of the short shorts I’m wearing. I guess Ma wasn’t lying; me arse has grown a bit. Not that I care. I love ice cream more than I like a perfect arse. Licking the cookie dough flavor from the spoon, I moan softly. This is by far the best ice cream I’ve ever eaten. But the peanut butter is a close second for sure. Reaching for my other bowl that is on the nightstand beside my bed, I glare at the drawer that holds all my condoms.
Stupid maggot of a man.
Jackson.
Ugh. Still so mad.
He is probably another reason I haven’t really left my room. I feel dirty. No matter how much I shower or wash me skin raw, I still hear his words. Asking me if I wanted the money first. Wanker. I guess I get why he would assume that—I am a bit wild in the sheets—but shouldn’t he appreciate a girl who has a drawer of condoms? She’s safe, yeah? I think so. But now, all I want to do is dump the drawer in the feckin’ trash and never do it again.
Which is bollocks. I love me some sex.
And I really loved it with Jackson. Ah. His body. Those shoulders, and the cuts in his arms, I swear I’ve never been with someone so big. He enveloped me in his arms. He made me feel like nothing could come near me, he was so big. His back went for days. And that chest… Fuck, my mouth waters at the thought. He was so gorgeous too. Not only was he built like an ox, he was also beautiful. His eyes had a wee touch of caramel to them, but then they were dark too. I don’t know, they were just spectacular, and what kills me is, even after a week, I can’t get him out of my head. I can still feel his lips, his eyes, his touch on me. I want to be disgusted. I want to hate him for what he said to me, but I can’t get the feeling of him touching me out of my head. It’s like his touch is a sunburn that won’t heal.
So why he had to go and fuck it up is beyond me. We had so much more time to go at it. I know he was enjoying it too. He had those sex eyes, and that cock was so hard, I could have broken a wee barrel over it. His eyes. Those lips. That body.
Fuck, what an arse!
Leaning back in the bed, I spoon the peanut butter ice cream into my bowl along with my cookie dough and start to eat it as my thoughts swirl around Jackson. I don’t know what it is about him. I’ve been tempted to go to the bar, kick his arse, and tell him he needs to apologize so I can kiss that mouth of his again. While I know he said it, I don’t think he really meant it. It has taken me a good five days to decide, but it has also made me think of my lifestyle and how I don’t like it.
I love my freedom, and I love that I don’t have to answer to anyone. But the drugs, the alcohol, and the men have all gotten a wee bit out of control. I didn’t even know Jackson; he could be a feckin’ murderer, and I brought him to my room to ride him to kingdom come. I’m not making wise decisions, and while I know I didn’t get a chance to go crazy like this in my teenage years since I was under my ma’s thumb, I really don’t think I should be doing it now. Or maybe the last six months are enough. I don’t know. Yesterday, I wanted to be good, clean up my act, wash my hair, and straighten it. But today, I want to ride Jackson some more.
Ah, I’m mad.
Reaching for the bottle of Cathmor I had sent up for me, I drink from the bottle and I laugh. Guess I’ll try to be good tomorrow. And also, I need to remember to tell Declan that Cathmor pairs wonderfully with ice cream. He’d get a laugh for sure. If I talk to him. I haven’t answered any of his calls. Not returned even one. I texted him and told him I was fine, which resulted in call after call. I just can’t. While I don’t like who I have been the last six months, I can’t go home. My family would want to admit me to some kind of rehab. I also feel I might spiral even worse, being in the same town as Casey.
Especially living near a distillery where there is a bottle of whiskey in every room.
I don’t want to feel.
I want to be numb.
Laying my head back, I take a long swig of the thick liquor, the burn rushing down my throat and warming my chest. Gah, my ma would be so upset if she saw me now. I can hear her now.
“Lena, what in the world? Ya look a mess. What are ya wearing? Put that down, and get me a brush!”
I smile as her voice shakes my soul. I haven’t spoken to her in so long. I miss her greatly, along with my da. Declan, the most, though. As each day passes, I think more and more of my wee nephew, Ronan. I wonder if he looks like Declan and if he has Amberlyn’s auburn hair. I haven’t gotten a picture, probably because Declan is so upset with me. I can’t blame him. I’m not behaving like the person he grew up with. I’m not wee, sweet Lena, doing what everyone tells her to. No, I somehow found my voice when I left, and I like that. I just have to figure out a way to get the heaviness that is Casey off me, and I think I’ll be okay.
Problem is, I don’t know how to do that.
I don’t know how to be sure he’ll never touch me again. That he’ll never find me. Funny thing is when I was with Jackson, I didn’t even think a bit about Casey. It was like when I’m drunk or high. I don’t think. I just live and feel in the moment. It’s nice, and I’m craving it like mad. Looking down at the bottle of Cathmor I’m holding, I don’t even want it. I place it on the nightstand, and my gaze catches on the drawer once more. I can hear his voice, the guttural moan that left his lips.
Bloody hell, I want him.
Am I seriously considering going down to find him? What will I say? “Oh, look here, Jacks, I’m no hoor, but ya wanna go play in my sheets?” He’d laugh me out of the pub. Or he’d kiss me right there. Ah, his lips. Shite, I’m going.
If there is one thing I’ve learned since I left home, it’s that I go for what I want.
Hopping off the bed, I put my bowl down and look on the floor for a sweatshirt to wear. The condition of the room is downright pathetic, but I don’t care. With a little giggle, I reach for a pile of black, and when I lift it, I see that it is massive.
Oh. It’s Jackson’s pully that he was wearing.
I fall back on the bed, lifting it to my nose, his dark, spicy cologne tickling my senses. I believe in signs, and if this isn’t a sign to go find him, I don’t know what is. It’s still the day shift, so he should be down at the pub. Throwing his shirt on, I laugh at how much it swamps me, but I enjoy it immensely. Ma would disapprove and probably burn it, but I want to live in this shirt. After sliding my tennies on, I rush through the room and down the elevators.
When I reach the pub, unlike a week ago, i
t’s slammed. People everywhere. I can feel the patrons watch as I come in. I probably look a bit homeless, but I’m on a mission, so I try not to care. It doesn’t work much, though. Moving through the sea of people, I reach the bar and see the guy who had walked in when Jackson and I were talking the other day.
Corey, I think?
“Hey, gorgeous, what can I get you?” he croons as he puts a napkin on the bar.
“Howya,” I say, leaning on the bar and looking past him for Jackson. “Is Jackson here?”
He shakes his head, and my stomach drops. “Oh, no, he’s not.”
“When does he work next?”
“Oh, sorry, but he left.”
“Left?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, he left a week ago, maybe?”
“A week?” I ask. I sound like a damn parrot, but I’m not understanding. Jackson never mentioned leaving. But then, he never gave me his last name either, so it isn’t like we were sharing much but a whole lot of spit.
“Yeah, his time was up here, and he was moving on. I think Scotland was the next stop? I don’t remember what he said, I was always three sheets to the wind when he was talking about his travels.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, sorry. Did you want to order a drink?”
I shake my head. I didn’t realize I would be this sad. Why am I so sad? He was a roll in the hay. Nothing more. But I hate that everything ended the way it did. Even if it was his fault and he was a wanker for calling me a hoor. I guess I haven’t got more to do, so I might as well have a drink or two.
But when I go to tell Corey yeah, my phone rings in my hand. I look down to see it’s Declan, so I ignore it. But then he sends a text.
Declan: 911. Call now. I’m not fuckin’ around, it’s Ma.
A little taken aback, I read it once more. What does he mean? He starts to call again, but I ignore him. It can’t be anything serious. Ma is healthy as a horse. He is probably just trying to get me to talk to him. But he calls once more. Blinking a few times at the phone, I wonder if this really is serious. Another text, saying the same, has my heart racing. It’s too loud to call him in here, so I shake my head at Corey. “Thanks anyway.”
“Sure. Come on back anytime,” he calls to me, but I ignore him. I only want Jackson right now, so there isn’t even a point in entertaining that guy. Plus, he’s too small for my liking. Gah, see? I’m no hoor! I won’t take him even if I can’t have Jackson.
Feckin’ wanker. Hot wanker, though.
Shaking my head at my maddening self, I head out and into the brisk air of London. My phone keeps going off, and it’s starting to worry me a bit. I’m shivering, so I wrap my arm around myself as I open my contacts. It’s starting to get chilly, which means I may need to look into moving again. I don’t like winter in London; I’ll go back to Dublin before I stay here.
Clearing my throat, I hit Declan’s name, and soon, his voice comes over the line.
“Lena, I’ve been calling you all week. This is serious.”
He lets out one loud, annoyed breath before he yells, “Ya feckin’ eejit! Ma is sick.”
“I was ignoring ya. What is the problem?”
I swallow hard, but I can hear the fear in his voice. “What?”
“She’s sick. Ya need to come on home now. It doesn’t look good.” When his voice breaks a bit, I pause, my throat itching as he whispers, “Seriously, Lena, it’s not good.”
Ah, shite.
The wind kisses my face.
The air is so gosh darn fresh I almost think I’m breathing in something I shouldn’t. Something so rare that it’s a gift, but then, I guess a lot of people feel that way around here. Everyone is smiling, really welcoming, and when I asked the visitors center if she knew anywhere that was hiring, she put me in the first car to the estate. No clue where I’m going, but I’m sort of excited. Even with the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about Lena since the moment she kicked me out of her penthouse.
I know it isn’t wise, and I need to let her go. I’ll never see her another day in my life. She was off trying to forget whatever was haunting her, and I’m off exploring the world. But I honestly do wish I’d had a bit more time with her. Okay, a lot more time. Especially when I can still hear her crying. I hadn’t meant to do that. I don’t know what the hell my problem was. I just couldn’t believe someone like her wanted me. For free. I don’t think I’m ugly by any means, but she…she’s a fucking goddess.
With one hell of a potty mouth.
Ya feckin’ bag of cocks, off with ya!
I laugh to myself as I follow Pip—yes, that’s his name—around the grounds to the stables. When the car stopped in front of the estate, I won’t lie, I gawked at it for probably ten minutes before Pip found me. I’ve never in my life seen a place so big. I mean, it’s a castle. And it’s not just one castle, there are even other mini ones making the damn thing seem even bigger. Made of some thick-ass stone, the castle is gorgeous, but my favorite has to be the stained-glass windows. They’re huge and everywhere. The peaks of the castle are gold, and I know I’ve seen the crest hanging above the front door, but I can’t place it. I don’t know. But I’ve never been to a castle that is still in use by royalty, and if I may say, it is pretty badass to be here.
Can’t wait to tell my mom.
“Do you see them?”
Pip looked back at me. “See who?”
His accent reminds me of Lena, which of course, has me grinning a little more than I should. I doubt I’ll get that girl out of my head anytime soon. “The king and queen and shit?”
He scoffed. “Ah, yeah, ya see them every once in a while. Sir comes around the most, though, for his horse. He and his missus stay over on that hill with their wee little one they just brought home.”
I look to where he is pointing. “Cool.”
When I see the stables come into view, I’m stunned. Pretty sure these horses have a bigger house than my parents do. “Since Sir’s missus got knocked up, she hasn’t been riding her horse much. Neither has the princess since she isn’t here. We lost our other stable hand to the uni.”
“The uni?”
“University?”
“Oh! School.”
He just shoots me a deadpan look as he opens the big stable doors bearing the same crest from the front of the property. “Which is why we need more people to ride and care for them. These’ll be the ones you care for.” There are over thirty horses in the stables, and I’m in heaven. Each horse is so big and beautiful. I might cry. “Yers are down here.”
We stop in front of two beauties. “Belle and MaddyLoo,” he says.
“Is that a Percheron?” I ask, pointing to the gray one with lots of spots all over her coat.
Pip smiles, his grin toothless. “Sure is, Sir wanted the missus to have something special, like she is.”
“Corny.”
“He is,” he decides, and I smile.
“And she’s a thoroughbred?” I ask, moving my hand down the lighter horse’s nuzzle.
“She is. Belle. She’s a good gal. One of me favorites.” He pats her mane. “The princess’s horse.”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah, so let’s go find Mitch. He’s the boss around here.”
I nod, petting the two horses one last time. Man, I miss my girl. I’ll probably FaceTime her tonight. I walk with Pip through another set of doors, and we enter an office with a younger guy sitting behind the desk. He looks up and smiles brightly.
“New bloke?”
Pip nods, jabbing his thumb toward me. “American—”
“Actually, Canadian.”
They both look at me, confused, but then Mitch asks, “Ya drink?”
I smile. “I do.”
“Then yer hired as long as all your background stuff comes back good.”
I make a face. “How long does that take? Can I work until it comes in?”
Mitch nods quickly. “Ah, yeah, but ya can’t be around the family until it’s all done. So if we know
they’re coming in for a ride, you won’t be able to work. Also, you can’t go near the estate. It’s locked down around here.”
“Okay, cool.”
“For three months, yeah? Can’t get ya to stay longer?”
I shake my head, a grin pulling at my lips. “I’m off to Scotland next.”
“Ah, fuckin’ hell. Yer in the best place ever, why leave?”
I laugh along with him, but then he says, “You’ll get housing if ya need it.”
“Sure, but I won’t need it until it gets cold.”
Both Pip and Mitch eye me. “Whatcha mean?”
“I have a tent.”
“A tent?” Pip asks then he looks to Mitch. “He’s a feckin’ phanny, yeah?”
That sends them into a roar of laughter, though I have no clue what is so funny. So, I stand there until their laughter subsides. “So, yeah, a tent. I want to experience the land. Got a good place for me to set up?”
Mitch pauses. “Yer serious?”
I grin at him. “Yeah.”
“On the estate?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, no. They wouldn’t allow it.”
Well, shit.
“But you could probably moonlight over at the Céad Míle Fáilte, and they’d let ya stay out there. Just tell Michael that Mitch sent ya over. He’ll help ya out until ya come to yer senses and sleep in the housing we have for ya.”
I chuckle as we shake hands. “Thank you.”
After filling out an ass-full of paperwork and then getting my picture taken for my ID, I’m finally off with my uniform for tomorrow and the key to my housing that I tuck into my jeans pocket. With the directions leading to a bridge that cuts over to the pub Mitch was telling me about, I take in the beautiful scenery around me. It’s everything and more than what was described. I’ve never seen something so beautiful. The sky is so blue, and the clouds feel so low, it’s as if I’m walking through them. The grass is beyond green, and the flowers that cover the hills are mesmerizing.