Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
There were no awkward little chats to be had with Miss Davies today, which was something at least. The real awkwardness still loomed ahead in the form of the ladies who lunch brigade, minus me since I was working instead.
I’d seen the invite in the group chat. Meeting as usual.
Oh the joy.
The thought of seeing Mandy Taylor’s conceited grin made me cringe, but at least I was in line for the same privileges, and I’d got my first decent fucking in years on the back of her big running mouth, which had to be a good thing, even if it was a crazy one-off.
It was definitely a one-off. An awkward farewell outside mine had been the last I’d seen of Darren. No calls, no texts, no Casanova howling outside my bedroom window. But why would there be?
Of course there wouldn’t be.
We’d said sex, no biggie. I guess he’d meant it.
I’d meant it, too.
I’d totally meant it.
He’d probably banged half the village since then – maybe even Mandy Taylor herself, who fucking knows?
I guessed I’d find out with the rest of the Velvet Bean soon enough.
“Aye aye, here she comes.” Buck slapped the car bonnet over my head.
My stomach did a sappy flip at the thought he might mean Jodie, but of course he didn’t.
Jimmy O let out a piss-poor catcall and it told me all I needed to know.
There it was. The rumble of the fucking Porsche grew louder. Bollocks.
No fucking way. Not today.
I’d told Eleanor Hartwell no Mondays. I’d told Eleanor Hartwell to call ahead first.
The problem with Eleanor Hartwell is that she’s too fucking used to flashing the old man’s gold card and getting her own way.
“I want a go on her today,” Jimmy leered. “I’m gagging for a ride on blondie. Hugh can do the next pick-up on his fucking own, I’m staying here and getting a look in.”
I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’ll be doing whatever I fucking tell you to do. Don’t like it, you can take your wages owed and get the fuck out of here.”
He raised his hands. “Take a bastard chill-pill, boss. Just setting my pissing stall out.”
Petey was grinning at the Porsche like a dope, dick already tenting his fucking pants. The lad needed to cut his teeth a little and calm it down. His pump and go technique was alright for so long, but the novelty of being young and fit wouldn’t last forever. Especially not for women like this one.
Eleanor was wearing pink today, one of those celebrity style tracksuits and shades. To be honest, I thought she looked like a prize-fucking tit, but what would I know?
“Boys,” she said, that big dirty smile on her face. She lowered her shades as she looked in my direction. “Trent.”
I didn’t have time for this shit.
“We’re busy,” I told her. “Monday mornings are busy, Eleanor, like I fucking said last week. Was I talking to myself, or what?”
She shrugged, flicked her hair. “And, like I said, I don’t mind paying for a priority service.” She pulled out another fat envelope. “Ted was out all weekend, didn’t even call. Turned up last night drunk on vintage champers and pissed in the laundry hamper. I think I deserve a good time on the back of all his shit, paying for it is the least he can do.” She sidled up to me, ran a manicured fingernail up my arm. “Please, Trent. I promise I’ll be good.”
I sighed. “What do you want?”
“You,” she said, like fucking always. “You and the big guy, unless you can give me the afternoon?”
Déjà fucking vu. I shook my head. “No can do, Eleanor. Got too much shit on already.” I stepped away from her and grabbed my keys from the side. “I’m off out,” I said. “Got some parts to collect.” I gestured to the guys, all of them standing around like a bunch of horny cunts. “Take your pick of the others, but you’ll have to be done and gone by the time I’m back. Got customers here at lunch.”
Her face dropped, pouty lips pursing like a puckered asshole. “But Trent… I was hoping…”
“Noon at the latest,” I said to the lads. “And we’ll be staying late tonight on the back of it.” I turned back to Eleanor. “Gotta go,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you.”
I pulled down the shutters on the way out.
The Dog and Drum doesn’t open til late on a Monday, so no chance for a sneaky pint while the lads were rutting Eleanor. I went home first, checked out cruddy daytime TV before I decided to ditch the overalls and head back out.
I had an hour or so to play it safe, I could have fired up my crappy old laptop and tackled some of my invoicing backlog from home, but I fancied a coffee, a decent one, not that instant shit I have at home.