by Lesley Jones
“When will you be home then, Cam? We’re missing you.”
“You and the nurse?” I’m such a comedian.
“No, Cameron, me and the baby.”
I take another gulp of my drink. “Tamara, the baby has no concept of who I am, now. Do what the nurse tells ya. Take your vitamins and attend your appointments. I’ll talk to ya later in the week when you’ve seen the doctor.” I end the call, finish my drink and try Georgia again. Fucking woman is so stubborn. “Pick up, Kitten. For fuck’s sake, you’ve made your point. I know you’re pissed off. She ain’t my girlfriend and I don’t even know if it’s my baby. Let me explain for fuck’s sake. I’m gonna tie you to my bed and make you listen when I get home. Just you fucking wait.”
As I end the call, I notice Dracula’s sister is now sitting next to me. Her lips are far too big for her face, obviously pumped full of whatever women have their faces pumped full of to make themselves look ridiculous and about twenty years older than they really are these days. I don’t think that’s the way it’s supposed to work, but that’s the effect they always seem to achieve.
“What d’ya want?” I ask her, annoyed at her invasion of my space. Although if she’s up for it, I could actually put those lips to good use. I’ve got a massive hard on thinking about Kitten and I really don’t fancy having it squashed in my jeans for the next twenty four hours. My phone bleeps with a text message. When I open it, I see it’s from Jodie.
‘Revenge… What a great feeling’
For fuck’s sake, what does that mean? Fucking women.
Morticia’s hand is squeezing the top of my leg as she leans in and says, “My, aren’t you popular.” I look from her hand to her mouth.
“Darlin’, you have no fuckin’ idea. Now, either get yourself in the bogs and give me a blow job or fuck right off to where you came from.”
She pouts her already pouty lips. I look over her face. Her makeup looks like it’s been laid on with a trowel. I fucking hate too much make-up on a woman; swearing and too much make-up are two things I can’t stand. Kitten was wearing too much makeup on Saturday night. Don’t get me wrong. She still looked fucking gorgeous; she always looks gorgeous, but when she showered and took it all off, she looked stunning. She takes my breath away. Even just thinking about her, I can feel my chest, and my balls for that matter tighten. Fuck, fucking woman.
“And what’s in it for me?”
Shit, I’d forgotten about Morticia Adams next to me. Her hand is now rubbing my cock through my jeans, which is now like a battering ram, thanks to thoughts of Georgia showering, taking off her makeup, her clothes. I finish my drink. “What’s in it for you, love, is a mouthful of my spunk; spit it, swallow it, rub it in your wrinkles, I don’t really give a fuck, now make up your mind, or fuck off.”
She gets up from her stool and says, “Meet me in the disabled toilets in a couple of minutes.” Fuck that. I ain’t waiting. Two of us in the one carzey, everyone’s gonna know what’s happening anyway.
“Go,” I say to her, “I’ll follow.” She takes three steps and I get up. She looks over her shoulder and shakes her head, but I really couldn’t give a fuck. I follow her down a short walkway and into the thankfully empty toilet. I lock the door behind me, and as I turn, she tries to kiss me with her trouty lips. “No, love, straight suck, no kissing.” She huffs as I push her down onto her knees. I undo the button fly of my jeans, but get no further when she pushes my hands away and pulls my cock from my boxers. God, that feels better.
“Wow,” she says, “someone’s pleased to see me.”
I shake my head at her. “Not pleased to see you, sweetheart, just missing someone else, badly.” She looks down at the floor and I wonder how many times I can insult her before she gets off her knees and walks away. I should feel bad, but I don’t. She offered. She’s the one who’s happy to be kneeling on the floor in a disabled toilet, when I’ve promised her nothing in return, so I don’t. I don’t feel any kind of sympathy for her.
I grab the hair at the back of her head and fuck her face until I come, all the while thinking of my Kitten and how she only ever took the tip in her mouth. If I ever pushed in too far, she would gag. Even giving a blow job, she’s elegant and classy and I love the fuck out of her. She’s nothing like the woman in front of me now, swallowing my cum, with lipstick and that black shit women put on their eyes all over her face. I pull out of her mouth with a pop, wash my hands and my dick in the sink, and leave her on the floor of the toilet. Luckily, as I head back out to the lounge, first class passengers for my flight are being called to board. I get in my nice, big comfy seat and send a text off to Georgia. Fuck, I’m gonna lay my cards on the table. I’m a mug, where she’s concerned. I can’t help it.
I love the fuck out of you.
I will talk.
You will listen.
We will be together.
I’ve waited long enough.
No more fuckin’ around, Kitten.
This Tiger’s about to roar.
I hit send and have a little chuckle to myself, ‘this tigers about to roar’. What the fuck was I thinking? If Benny or my brothers see that, they’d be on the floor laughing and they would never let me live it down. Oh, well, it’s done now. Let’s see what her response is, if any. Fuck, I hope she replies, or just reads it even. I just need her to know. Fuck, I should’ve just been honest with her Saturday night instead of playing games and waiting for her to blow smoke up my arse and tell me how much she wanted me. The lack of sleep, alcohol, the release of tension from the very average blow job I received all mean that I’m out cold before the plane even takes off.
Chapter Fifteen
Never in my entire life have I been so happy that I’m rich. I know it’s shallow and selfish and it makes me sound like the spoilt princess I’m trying to convince everyone that I’m not, but as I lay in bed on a private jet flying me back to England, I’m over the fucking moon that Lennon used some of my wealth and booked my journey home this way.
We’ve made two stops already over the past twenty hours and I’m now only a few hours from home. I’ve spent most of the journey either sleeping, crying or trying to work the fuck out why Cam would lie to me like that. If he knew he had a pregnant girlfriend waiting for him back in England, then why would he make all those promises to me? Was he out for revenge? Did he think I would be his bit on the side while he played happy families with his girlfriend and baby? Baby. Cam’s having a baby. Something I might never be able to give him. Something I may never be able to give anyone. And as much as I try to convince myself that I’ve now come to terms with the fact I will never carry a child again and I may never even become a mother, I haven’t. I never will.
I tell everyone I have, but it’s a lie and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much and that makes my tears start again. I hate feeling sorry for myself. I only lost my ability to carry a baby. Sean lost his life, and it’s moments like this that I wish I had too, but I didn’t and like I told Marley on the phone, I will carry on. With the help of my family, I will move forward. I was moving forward and then I stupidly got drunk and shit faced and sent that text to Cam, and then I made the mistake of going to Sydney. Then there’s the Jodie, Roman and Cam fuck up. What are the chances of that? As my dad would say, my luck’s poxed, absolutely, fucking poxed. I’ve never really known what it means, but it seems appropriate right now.
I draw in a breath and launch myself out of bed. I’ve faced worse in my life, haven’t handled it too well, but I’m still here to tell the tale, so I will move on from Cam’s deceit and let it be another lesson learned. Exactly like Roman not telling me about his relationship with Jodie. I’ve once again realised that I can trust no one, and that’s exactly how I plan to live the rest of my life.
I stand in the shower on the plane, contemplating all of this, once again getting angry with myself when I cry over the fact that Cam lied to me. Despite all of my wrong doings, that’s one thing I always thought Cam and I had between us, honesty.
I told him from the start that I was still in love with Sean. Okay, I didn’t tell Cam that I was also in love with him, but I didn’t realise it myself for a long time. I did tell him further down the track, and I told him again last night that I am in fact, still in love with him. Finding out he has a pregnant girlfriend hasn’t changed that fact. All it’s done is hurt me yet again. My entire life seems to consist of hurt, pain and heartache. I’m sure I can handle a little more being thrown my way.
I step out of the shower, look at myself in the mirror and burst into tears. I’m totally kidding myself. I’m in love with Cameron King and over the last few weeks, Jackson has helped me realise that fact, and stupidly, it would now seem, I had allowed him to become a symbol of hope. I had no idea I was going to bump into him Saturday night, but I had planned on getting in touch with him once I was back in England to try to work out exactly what my feelings were for him. After seeing him Saturday and talking to him the way I did, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I love him. I’ve always loved him. I’m one of those people, it would seem, who can love two people at once. I’ve loved Sean my entire life and I’ve loved Cam for the last twelve years. Whether it’s right or it’s wrong, it’s a fact. It must also be something in my nature that makes me unable to stop loving someone. I’ve never stopped loving Sean and I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving Cam, which basically leaves me fucked for ever loving anyone else and I hate that thought. I don’t want a life without love. There’s something in me and I assume it’s the same for most humans, that makes me want to love and to be loved. I never want to go back to the detached sex I had in my past, never. It was horrible and hurt me much more than it healed. What I had with Roman was okay. At least we connected as friends and we definitely connected physically; he was hot and just one look woke up my sleeping libido, but that’s all it was, a friendly fuck. I’ll always be grateful for the fact he helped me realise I was capable of moving on to some degree, but he’ll never mean more to me than a friend.
I decide not to bother with any makeup because I can’t be sure that I won’t be crying again anytime soon. I put on some clean clothes, pull on a baseball cap, take my sunglasses out of my bag, and go and take my seat as we make our descent into Heathrow.
* * *
Jimmie and Len are at the airport to collect me. Jim and I are blubbering snot bubble blowing messes the instant we set eyes on each other. The three of us stand and have a group hug for a full three minutes before heading over to the car. Len has booked a car with a driver so we can all sit in the back and talk. I give them most of the details of my time away, but I save my adventures with Roman for when I get some girlie time with Jim and Ash.
It’s Monday morning in England, and the traffic on the M25 is its usual nightmare. Ash has convinced Marley to go to my parents’ house with her and we are going straight there to surprise them all. My stomach begins to churn as we drive along familiar streets on the approach to my parents’ home, my home. I must become quiet as Jimmie reaches out and takes my hand.
“You okay, babe?” I shrug. I could nod my head, but it would be pointless. She knows me too well.
“Nervous,” I reply honestly.
“It’s only Mum, Dad, Ash and Marley, George. You’re not going to meet the queen.”
I turn and smile at Lennon. “I’ve met the queen twice, Len. She’s nothing compared to Mother.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it.
“She’ll be all right. She’s just missed ya really badly. Actually, we all have.”
I nod. “I missed all of you, too, but I just couldn’t be around here with all those stories going on.”
“I know. I understand that. It pisses me off that they’re allowed to print all of that shit and yet don’t say a word when it’s all proved to be a load of bullshit.”
Anxiety builds in my chest as I think about the claims and the relentless press attention and speculation. Sean’s been dead a year now and I wonder if they will finally leave me alone. I’m not famous. I was married to someone that was; that’s all. I really don’t understand why anyone would be interested in me.
Lennon’s phone rings and it reminds me that mine has been switched off since I got into the back of the car taking me to the airport. Cam started to call me. I ignored him three times before I just switched it off. I turn it back on and it bleeps continuously as it lights up, alerting me to twenty-seven missed calls, nine voicemails and twelve text messages, but attention is taken from them to the conversation Lennon is having on his phone.
“Well your source is wrong.” I turn to look at him.
“No, I can’t confirm that.” His eyes are staring straight ahead and I just know that the call is about me when he turns and looks out the window.
“I’m confirming nothing, Jules.”
“Nope, nothing to say about that either, any more questions?”
“Then please call the office not my mobile. I’m on holiday.” He frowns as he listens to what’s being said on the other end of the line and his eyes suddenly turn and meet mine. “Fuck off, Jules.” He ends the call just as my phone rings. It’s Cam and my heart pounds so hard I can feel it reverberate through the leather seats of the car.
“You gonna get that?” Lennon asks. I shake my head and silence my phone. I look back at Len, who’s staring at me, but through me, and I get this horrible, icy cold sensation run up my spine. “I’m gonna ask you this once and I want you to be honest with me, George. I can’t put this right if you tell me lies.” I nod and I have a horrible feeling I know what’s coming. “Did you spend Saturday night at a hotel with Cameron King?” I want to throw up. The press and the fans are going to crucify me over this and I did nothing wrong, did I?
I nod as Jimmie takes a hold of my hand. I swallow, but my mouth is so dry I almost choke.
“It’s not what you think. Nothing happened. We talked. I bumped into him at a club and we were worried about being photographed together so we went back to my hotel, but we just talked, nothing else, Len. I swear. I wouldn’t have done that, not on Saturday night.” I don’t want to cry, but I can feel tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I try to blink them away and fail. I swipe angrily with the back of my hand and try to control the trembling of my bottom lip. “They’re gonna hate me for this. The whole fucking world is gonna hate me, but I swear to God, we talked and I cried a lot.” Jimmie remains silent but hands me a tissue.
“Why the fuck was he in Australia? Why were you both at the same club? Do you realise how bad this looks? For fuck’s sake, George, I don’t know how I’m gonna make this one go away.” I cry silently as I look down at my lap.
“She went to the opening of the club Jodie’s been working on. She wanted to stay home, but I told her to go. She went with Jackson and Brooke.” Jimmie squeezes my hand tighter as she speaks. I couldn’t love her more in that moment, my beautiful, loyal best friend. She knows me well enough to know there’s every chance I did arrange to meet Cam, that I did spend the anniversary of my husband’s death having wild sex with another man, but without hesitation, she’s got my back and she’s defending me. I’m so lucky to have her in my life. Despite the gravity of my situation, I manage a little smile.
I look back towards Lennon. “It turns out that Cam is majority shareholder in the club that Jodie’s been working on. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him there. We chatted for a while at the club, but we knew there were a lot of press about so we managed to get out of the back doors without being seen, and because I was leaving early the next morning, we went to my hotel. I didn’t want any more to drink. I’d already had too much and Cam was worried about photographers so we just went to my room.” I shrug. “We talked. I cried. We talked some more. I got my plane back to England the next morning and here I am.” Len rakes his hand through his hair. As he lets out a long breath, he shakes his head.
“You don’t make things easy on yourself, do ya, Porge?” I shrug and my bottom lip starts to wobble again.
“Seems to me,
don’t matter what I do, someone’s always out to make me look bad. The press are always looking to dig some kind of dirt on me and Sean, and if they can’t find anything, then they’ll just make things up anyway.”
I wipe at my tears again. I’ve not even made it to my mum’s front door and already, everything that I achieved in the past eight weeks has been wiped away. I feel deflated and defeated and on the verge of an anxiety attack. The press are never going to leave me alone. They’re never going to just let me get on with my life. I need to accept that this is it. This is my reality and it’s fucking shit.
* * *
I manage to stop my tears before we pull up outside my parents’ house. Luckily, I have a great suntan, so I don’t need any makeup and I can blame my red eyes on jet lag. Lennon has spent the last fifteen minutes on the phone, talking to I assume, the press and solicitors. Jim uses her key to let us in, and the instant I take a breath in, I know I’m home. Funny how your parents’ house always smells the same, and to me, that smell means home. We tiptoe quietly down the hallway and find Mum, Dad, Ash and Marley all sitting at the kitchen bench top having a cup of tea. I’ve missed my parents. I’ve missed them a lot, but it’s Marley I can’t wait to get a cuddle from.
“Hope there’s biscuits to go with that tea?” My dad throws his head back and laughs, instantly reminding me of Cam. I push the little stab of emotion away from my chest and watch my brother’s reaction. He closes his eyes for a long moment while my mum squeals and cries and jumps down from her stool. I watch as Marley smiles at Ash and quietly says “You knew about this, didn’t ya?” and I can’t help but smile as she nods and he reaches out and takes her hand, kisses it and says, “Thank you.” I get kisses and cuddles from my mum and dad, then Ash.