Only me who worried about everything all the time.
Back at home, I tried on my new undies and scoped myself out in my wardrobe mirror. Sure, I had a belly podge, but show me a mother of two kids who doesn't. The rest of me looked pretty alright. I'd lost weight without realising it, and admittedly I didn't have the ass I'd had a decade earlier at sweet nineteen - but it was still fairly pert and curved in the right places. My waist dipped in enough to give me a half-decent shape. My thighs were a little wobbly but who really cares? And my tits … well … they looked so much better in a decent push-up bra.
I'd pass. Whatever passing even means. It wasn't hideous … it was certainly a lot better than the shape I'd been presenting in plain, comfortable - yeah, ok, over-sized - clothes.
By the time I went to bed I'd managed to turn a full 180, convincing myself I'd wasted a pile of money for nothing, and nobody would even notice the difference. Convincing myself I was running a fool's errand just because some salon-perfect woman had crossed my path down the garage. But despite all the self-talk, I couldn't shake off this little pang of something. Excitement? Relief?
Hope?
I don't know what it was, but it sure felt good. Underneath the resignation and the embarrassment and the fear, there was something alive and kicking. It was so alien I could hardly fathom it.
I wondered when I'd written myself off. From being a woman, I mean - because that's what it felt like, ultimately. Like somehow, somewhere along the path, I'd traded in my female identity for some all-encompassing idea of motherhood and a minimum wage job down the cafe. It had happened so slowly, I guess. Losing myself just a tiny little piece at a time; a busy schedule, not enough sleep, a lousy boring boyfriend like Brian …
He'd never fucked me like he wanted me. Not like Darren used to.
With Darren it was raw, and tempestuous, and exciting. In the early days, when we were still good together, he'd fuck me like I was the only woman in the world, the only woman he'd ever want. He'd fuck me with a wildness that I'd never found since - something so real … so unapologetic …
Figures - unapologetic could be Darren Trent's middle name.
Sleep didn't come easy. The early hours came and went and I was still wide awake, just thinking - stewing life around in my head. So many questions, so few answers …
Had I really lost myself with Brian? Was that when my life went stale?
No. It wasn't, and I knew it.
It had started long before that. Long before Darren and I called time out. Long before we even considered calling time out.
It had started when I first had Mia and realised the whole universe had shifted on its axis. That I was no longer just Jodie, Trent's girlfriend, but Mum, too.
Somewhere along the line I stopped being me and Darren stopped being Darren. We were just … I dunno … two people stuck in a rut together. One long, painful, sour rut.
Oh how it had fucking hurt to let it go.
But we were good with the time out now, had been for years. So many years. It was the right decision for both of us, all of us … we knew that … we both knew that … of course we did …
It was still the right decision. Definitely.
Absolutely one million percent definitely.
I didn't want him at all, no way. Not even in a tux. Never. Not even a consideration … Not even a fleeting thought in my mind …
I definitely didn't want Darren Trent …
Especially not in a tux …
And definitely, definitely not enough to reach under my bed for my bodywand …
"You look like a princess, Mum!"
"That lipstick looks super cool!"
"Oh, Jodie, that colour really does suit you. What a lovely top!"
Seeing the shock on their faces cemented the fact that my late night shopping splurge had been the right call. Oh the wonder of a top that actually fitted properly and a splash of Autumn Berry lippy. My choices hadn't even been that extreme, not really. I could have picked Mystic Plum or Scarlet Harlot. Maybe I would one day. Never say never.
I made the school run with more confidence than I'd felt in a long time, head high as I stood amongst the other mothers – despite all the whispers that were clearly circulating post gigolo-gate. Today I felt strangely immune, my own entity of just Jodie, separate from Trent and his bang-ganging ways. My hair was freshly washed and straightened, my skin glowing through the wonderful illusion of decent foundation. I looked better and I knew it, and maybe it was a far cry away from the glitz and glamour of Porsche-bitch and her ilk, but it was good enough for me.
It was good enough.
Lorraine gave me a twit-twoo as I stepped into the cafe for the beginning of my shift.
"Get you!" she said. "You look fantastic. Have you dyed your hair?" She ran a section of my straightened hair through her fingers, held it up to the light.
"Not yet," I said with a smile.
I was so concerned with how good I felt that I barely noticed the change in demeanour of those around me. Yesterday's scorn had turned into curiosity, and further still into this strange ripple of interest that was whispering through the female village populous.
Hannah Bowen never usually gives me the time of day. She comes into the cafe at least three mornings a week, and besides a polite smile she gives me nothing. Not even a half-arsed how are you? Hannah Bowen has a reputation for being stand-offish, but it seemed that today was the day that all changed.
She leaned over the counter as I prepped her coffee, and she had bright pink lipstick on, foundation so thick she looked slightly orange.
"Hi, Jodie. Wow. Nice top." Her smile was fake and bright, but I appreciated the compliment all the same. "How are you?" she said. "How are the girls?"
You could have knocked me down with a feather.
I spooned out the milk froth for her cappuccino and gave her a paper smile. "I'm good, thanks. We're all good. And yourself?"
She flashed a look around the cafe, and then her smile grew brighter. "I'm great, yeah. Really great."
"Pleased to hear it." I placed her cup on the side, put a biscuit on her plate.
She didn't even pick it up, made no effort to leave at all. She cleared her throat, and smiled some more, then she twisted a stray wisp of blonde hair around her fingers. "Say, Jodie, have you, um … have you seen Trent lately? I mean … is he, um … "
"Is he, um … ?" I met her eyes and held her stare.
"Is he, um … you know … " Her eyes widened. "Is he really a … gigolo?"
I felt my cheeks warming beneath the foundation. "You'll have to ask him yourself," I said.
She laughed, just a little. "Well, I would, but … " She leaned in further. "We don't really know each other … " Her eyes twinkled. "I just heard he was offering … group activities. If you know what I mean."
"Like I said, you'll really have to ask him."
Another clear of the throat. "Is that his thing? Gangbangs?"
Not that I ever knew.
"I'm really not the person to ask." I pushed her cup in her direction. "We were together a long time ago. I'm really not qualified to give you the lowdown on Trent's current sexual preferences."
I watched her deflate in front of me, huffing out at least a little disappointment. "Let me know, if you hear anything. I mean, if he has a website … "
Like he has a fucking website. Bang Gang - orgies on demand.
I forced a smile. "I'll be sure to let you know."
Hannah Bowen may have been the first to ask directly about Trent's little moonlighting project, but she sure as hell wasn't the last. Women who'd seemed as impartial to a full face of makeup as I'd been were suddenly rocking up with beautician-perfect smoky eyes and glossy lipstick. Must be something in the air.
Sweet little Amy Tanner from Elm Grove stuttered her way through questions about Trent's services. Rita Powell laughed her way through a monologue on how she fancied living wild and did I know anything about five hot mechanics out for a good time? Sarah Kelly came right out with it and asked if she could book Trent and Buck through me, and that really did make me blush, foundation or no.
Lorraine handed me an espresso as a break in the queue came around. Her eyes were sympathetic, like they always are when it's shit about Trent. She gestured to the packed out cafe and raised her eyebrows.