Bad Girl

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  I used to be chaotic, mad and obsessive – about everything; he used to be a hermit but when he’d come out to play, he’d be crazy, loud, obnoxious and a pervert. We’re both still all those things but he’s also quieter, scarred, more thoughtful and contemplative, a different Adam these days. Whereas I’m looking to the future for the first time in my life, not rushing myself headlong into another drama… more aware than ever that men can be so beautiful and there’s one I really, really love… but he’s far, far away from here.

  “I needed to come back to lay the ghost to rest,” I tell him, “something was nagging at me, all the time I was out in Oz, and now I know what it was.”

  “Yes?” He’s gripping the steering wheel, leaning against it.

  “My past,” I admit, “why it went no further between us, despite the love between us…”

  He turns his head and looks softly into my eyes. “You know I love you, Chlo. You know that. But not in the way we ought to as lovers.”

  Strangely, this is the easiest thing I’ve dealt with all day. I smile quietly to myself, looking down at my lap.

  “Do you think it drove Susan insane? Knowing we have this friendship, all of us?”

  “In truth, yes,” he admits, “yes. A million per cent, yes.”

  “What would you do if you saw her again?”

  He looks up at the roof and rubs his face. “I don’t know but I hope I never do. I go out of my way these days to avoid all the places she likes. I pray at night that she’s gone someplace to pick up a new husband… somewhere like St Tropez or Cannes. Anywhere not here. Not London, either. I don’t want her following me.”

  “She wouldn’t,” I chuckle, albeit fearfully.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

  I take a deep breath. “Sure you don’t wanna come in for a fuck? You know? Just so I can feel better about Cole and you can be reassured your cock still works?”

  He rests his head on the steering wheel, laughing his socks off.

  Once he’s done, he leans over and gathers me to him for a hug, burying his face in my shoulder and then giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  Pulling away, he grins, a little bit of sadness buried in that smile. “You will always be my first, though. And that’s special because most people don’t stay in contact with their first, right?”

  “Certainly not mine.” My nose wrinkles just at the thought. Yuck!

  “Coming to London then?” he asks, now with a sly look in his eyes.

  “Hell yes, hell fucking yes.”

  “Yes,” he says, punching the air, “yes. Fuck, yes!”

  I leave the car beaming with smiles. “I’ll call you about next week, if I don’t figure something out anyway. Maybe I’ll put in a call… cash in a favour someone owes me.”

  “Why don’t you just go away for the summer?”

  “Please, Adam. London has been enjoying herself far too much without me. Time to crack the whip again.”

  “That’s our girl,” he says. “That’s our girl.”

  I shut the door carefully and he turns the engine over, revving it a few times before screeching off.

  And just like that, a ghost is put to bed; it need not be exhumed again.

  I laugh all the way up to the steps and even as I get inside.

  Will that man ever love again? I don’t know. All I know is that if he felt anything for Susan like what I feel for Cole, it’s going to be pretty damn hard.

  Still, I think it’s high time I took charge.

  And that starts with an email.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dear Cole,

  I remember when we first met and I knew I’d never seen a more handsome, more beautiful man. I wanted you then a great deal and I want you even more now.

  I’ve imagined myself a million times running down the halls of arrivals in Brisbane Airport, crashing through on my way to meet you. You’d be there in your shorts and t-shirt and thongs, searching like mad between the crowds. I’d see you, run to you, discarding my trolley like an idiot. I’d wrap my legs around you, we’d kiss recklessly in front of everyone moving around us, without a care in the fucking world. And we’d go back home, make love, make plans. Make babies, maybe… one day.

  But there is fantasy… and then there’s real life.

  When it comes to picking between you and Adam, there is no competition. It’s you. It always was. Adam is one of my very best friends in the world and I really love him, but when it comes to romantic love, you’re the only one I’ve ever felt that for. Last January, when we had those days together, that was the most magical time of my entire life. And the most fraught. The most emotional. The most unbelievable, most wonderful days I’ve ever spent.

  But today I was reminded of something. I was reminded of my own worth. I know I’m strong and was put on this planet to make a difference, to make a splash… to do something out of the ordinary. And while reminded of my own worth, I realised something. I realised that I have to take care of myself first and foremost, or I can’t fulfil my destiny… I can’t become who I’m meant to be or do the things I was born to do.

  And so, when it comes to picking between me or you, I choose me. I pick me. I’m picking myself to back, myself to go the distance. I’m picking me.

  I love you with my whole heart and I will never, ever forget you. When you’re next in London, look me up and we’ll talk of this with wonder… with delight… that we had this at all. We’ll show each other pictures of our families… we’ll recognise this time had its purpose… enabled us to grow, to develop… to discover our destinies and recognise parts of ourselves we never knew before.

  The next chapter is opening… it is about to begin. Now I know why my life took the direction it did, I also understand myself more and see clearer – that I am lovable but that the actions of one person and one alone made me feel the opposite; she was meant to treasure me above all else but she didn’t, and that wasn’t anything I did, that was just her inadequacy.

  So I pick myself, Cole and I hope you pick you, too. I hope that you finally see that you have more to give than a quick fuck. That you deserve more than to sell yourself short with people you don’t really love. That, in reality, each and every one of us does give something up whenever we lie with someone else. That if we keep giving ourselves away, we lose more of what we really are deep inside and can never, ever be happy that way… leading a half-life, a lie… avoiding what we really need to feel nourished, to feel loved.

  Every time I think of you my heart will ache and my eyes will close, memories assaulting me as I feel the whisper of your love, still. For years to come, I’m sure.

  I’ve never forgotten a single sunset we watched together.

  I love you,

  Chloe x x

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  15 Months Later

  I’m heading into the chambers of a prospective employer, all my certificates in a leather file under my arm and a smile on my face. I went shopping yesterday for a beautiful white blouse with a black trim, a long pencil skirt and Mary Poppins shoes tied with ribbon. I had my hair cut this morning and even took an extra-long bath.

  I get in the interview room and there are three people waiting for me. This is the most prestigious law firm in the UK and I’m shitting my pants I’m out of my depth, but hell, you’ve got to try… right? Even if I’d be a junior again and have to climb another greasy pole.

  “Chloe McCarthy,” the lady in the middle says. “Tell us about yourself.”

  I sit neatly in my chair, legs together like a good girl, smile on my face but not too smiley – don’t want the gent in the room getting the wrong idea.

  “Well, I worked for three law firms in the past. The first two I found didn’t challenge me and the third was an awakening to what it is I really want to do.”

  “And what is that?” the other lady asks.

  “I want to be a barrister, to make QC, to work the most challenging cases and be of service. I think, or r
ather, I know I have what it takes to do this job. I have an eye for detail, an empathy but not a naivety for this work. I’m the daughter of a single mother. I got myself here singlehandedly. It’s taken time. After completing the first year of the part-time BPTC course, I spent two years in Australia learning more about the world and about myself. Then I came back to complete it. I feel I needed that time to be able to grow and develop. I’m thirty next year and I’ve never felt more ready to be a part of a team like yours and give it my all. I have a reliable reference who can vouch that at the last firm I worked at, they had to employ two part-timers and a full-time to replace me.”

  I raise a chuckle from them all with that. The lady in the middle looks through some papers in front of her. “We have references here from your mentors and lecturers, all glowing. They say we would be idiots not to give you a job. But, tell us why, in your opinion” – she raises her eyes to mine and it’s like I’ve been hit with a thunderbolt – “tell us why you are a barrister. What makes a barrister, Miss McCarthy?”

  “I am first and foremost a fervent student of law,” I tell them, clearing my throat, “but I’m also someone who’s lived. Someone who’s seen something of the world. Someone who’s experienced life. Someone with a little grit, a lot of street smarts, a lot of potential to be developed under the guidance of people such as yourselves. I’m the hardest worker you will ever meet but also the toughest player. At school, I created a student council and chaired meetings, created a newspaper… ran netball tournaments. At university, I was head of the student union and captain of the university netball team. When I was out in Australia, I gained my diving qualifications and worked several different jobs to pay off my debts and to be able to save enough to return home comfortable enough to kickstart the next phase of my life. I’m not here because I went to Oxbridge or because my rich daddy said this was what I was going to do with my life. I could’ve stayed in Australia and married a rich man and volunteered at animal sanctuaries. But I’m here. I’ve overcome all these challenges and setbacks to still get here. And this is where I belong. This is truly where I can make a difference, use my voice and represent those who really need me. You’re the ones who have it in their power to recognise what’s here and to say yes. I can’t do anything more.”

  The three people all look at one another, giving nothing away. The one in the middle nods, then gives a brief smile.

  “Thank you, Miss McCarthy. We will be in touch before the week’s end.”

  I stand up to leave, my legs like jelly as I move along the line, shaking their hands.

  Then one of them says, “Oh, one of our newly appointed QCs is from Australia.”

  I’m flummoxed they’re even still talking to me after I bigged myself up so much just then.

  And they didn’t even ask to see my certificates.

  “Oh yes?” I say, pretending to be interested.

  “Yes, Cole Jackson. He’s amazing,” the middle lady says, “been with us ten months. He’s unbelievable. Got a natural talent. He’ll be a judge before you know it, mark my words.”

  “Oh, interesting. Good to know.” I flush scarlet, smiling a rigid smile. “Well, I look forward to hearing from you.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  SHIT!!

  I walk out into the corridor in a daze, taking in deep breaths, wondering if I heard right.

  What the fuck?

  What the actual fuck?

  He disappeared from Facebook after I sent him that Dear John email, which he never, ever replied to.

  I never heard from him again.

  And now… he’s here? It has to be a different bloke.

  It has to be a bloody joke!

  I watch the next candidate go into the interview room and decide he’s no match for me. A bespectacled swot, an ugly bag under his arm, a fucking… douche.

  My heart’s racing when I have an idea.

  All the rooms around here have their names outside. I start walking up and down corridors, checking for nameplates and seeing if I can find his.

  Fuck!

  They must have been kidding, seriously.

  Then I reach a door.

  Cole Jackson. QC.

  I’m… like…

  My arm feels like it’s going to drop off, then I’m knocking with a piss-poor rhythm.

  “Come,” he says, in that masterful way I know so well.

  I almost crash into the room after struggling with the handle and then finding it gives too easily, in the end.

  I watch him inhale deeply, his chest rising, then falling almost as dramatically. Wearing his robes, suited and booted, he’s the true embodiment of sex.

  “Chloe,” he murmurs, “you made it.”

  He stands up, grinning wildly.

  I slam the door behind me, run into his arms and kiss him… and kiss him… and kiss him.

  Everything else be damned.

  To be continued…

  The Bad Series continues with

  BAD GUYS

  Available to order NOW!

  Turn the pages for a preview…

  Thank You

  I really hope you enjoyed this book and that you will visit Amazon or Goodreads to show it some love with a review. What I can promise you as this series progresses is that you will be hooked, shocked and surprised as we venture further into these people’s lives.

  I wrote these books to be binged, to be enjoyed, to be devoured and re-read as you come to discover more and more about everyone involved.

  I promise a journey you will never forget.

  Sarah x

  Bad Guys – A Preview

  Their room is a floor above and I’m there in no time, entering what smells like her lair, her perfume stink still clogging up the space. I grab his lonely looking sports bag and check there’s nothing left lying around. Doesn’t even look as though he unpacked. I empty the minibar too while I’m at it. Hopefully this room was on her credit card, or if not, he may as well get something out of this fucking shambles.

  I get back into my room and find him exactly where I left him, the room still in darkness. I slot the card into the hole in the wall and all the lights come on. Shutting the drapes, I empty his holdall of all the stuff from his minibar.

  “Praying it was on her card, the room, I mean.”

  He laughs and says, “Oh yeah.”

  I laugh manically. “Fucking thought so.”

  Controlling bitch.

  He sits up on the bed and starts picking at the snacks and drinks, necking one of the stubby beers. He tosses me a white wine and I grimace.

  “Don’t you know me by now, Adam?”

  “Sorry, bad habit.”

  “Spirits, nothing else, ever. Spirits. Less calories.”

  “Sorry,” he says, slurring, just a bit.

  “Don’t look while I change.” I grab my bag and start pulling out my pyjamas.

  “Or you could go in the bathroom.”

  “Or you could not look. Bathrooms are cold and weird.”

  “I’ll shut my eyes.”

  “Good.”

  I unzip my dress, thankful of being double jointed. Facing the window with my back to him, I slip out of the dress and undo my strapless bra, too.

  “Thank fuck for that,” I say.

  “Oh, shit, Sass! I just opened my eyes.”

  “Fuck you, twathead.”

  He laughs loudly. “Well I’ve seen it already, the famous Ivanova arse.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  I do enjoy a thong bikini on holiday. These days I enjoy being topless, too. Just so long as I’m not on holiday with friends or anyone I know, for that matter.

  I keep my pants on and pull on my pyjamas quickly.

  “Jesus, that feels so much better. The bones in that dress were murder.”

  “Looked beautiful, though. Chloe’s did, too. Not so much Lauren, and Marie… Marie just seems angry these days.”

  “I know what you’re saying.”

  I grab the miniatu
re vodka and sip. “So, you wouldn’t ever go back there with Chlo?”

  He shakes his head. “Even if my marriage is over, no.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Ah, the secret.”

  His nose wrinkles. “And other stuff.”

  “What other stuff?”

  “We’re bad for each other,” he admits.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s insecure… I’m insecure. Do you even know why she’s come back? I thought she was mad on that guy, Cole.”

  “Oh yeah, she is, she just doesn’t realise it yet. Buried her head in the sand back in Oz. In complete denial.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oh yeah. She’s in love with him. I know that because she hasn’t shagged anyone since she got back. I’ve shagged at least three. Maybe four.”

  “What? Just in… what… two months?”

  “Slow spring,” I murmur.

  “What about Robert? He still asks after you, you know.”

  I turn and scowl at him. “What?” My heart starts pounding. What is he saying?

  “His divorce is almost through. She really took him to town. Claimed he was having an affair, all this stuff. You never did though, did you?” He sort of gawps, waiting for my response.

  “Absolutely not. The moment I knew he was married, I was out of there.”

  “Yeah, well, she dragged it out… still went fifty-fifty in the end. Think she was just waiting for a change of heart.”

  So that bitch…

  Susan lied.

  Robert never went back to his wife.

  Never.

  “Is he still in Leeds, then?”

  “Yep, he is. Got himself a flat now. Think he’s still single, or maybe dating, don’t know for sure. But like I say, he occasionally asks about you.”

  I think about the connection we almost made…

  …but it sounds like his wife would’ve made it all much worse for him if we had got together.