Bang Gang(16)

Big grinning smileys, a load of them, all in a row.

You're welcome, the text said.





I always make me time plans during Darren's weekends with the girls, but  it rarely happens. Not with the unavoidable mega-clean that I'm  obligated to perform to keep the house barely liveable. If there is any  additional time, it's usually spent making sure Nanna gets her weekly  trip to the supermarket, and cramming in any extra hours on offer at the  cafe. There's always something that needs doing.

But this weekend started off quite differently.

I woke with a muggy head after a bit more wine than I'm accustomed to,  then had the usual panic getting the girls ready to leave for their  dad's. Socks? Check. Clean underwear? Check. No, Ruby, you can't take  the entire contents of your toy cupboard. You're going for one night,  Ruby. One night! Yes, I know Mia's taking her phone, yes, I know that  probably feels like the injustice of the century, but please, for the  love of God, just put the monster trucks back in your bedroom! One.  Alright, you can take one. ONE!

The rumble of Trent's truck sounded outside at 9 a.m. sharp, and the  girls piled outside before he was even out of the driver's seat. I waved  them off with a happy smile, determined that this weekend would really  be it, one for me. I had a playlist of YouTube makeup tutorials lined  up, because seriously, makeup is a whole other level of skill than it  was when I used to stick on eyeshadow with a bog-standard applicator and  wear lippy without a lip liner. Heaven forbid.

Tonya told me so.

I'm learning.

When there was a knock on the door less than five minutes later, I  figured one of the girls had forgotten something. My stomach did the  dropping-from-a-great-height lurch as I swung it open, but it wasn't  Trent standing there, it was a courier. He held out one of those  touch-screen dooberrys for my signature and under his arm was a massive  parcel. Surely not?

I was about to say he was at the wrong address when I saw Symmonds and 2  Oak Crescent bold as brass on the screen. I looked at the parcel in  shock. It was taped up tight, Priority Next Day all over it.

"Sign please," the driver said, and I realised I'd been gawping.

I scribbled something barely legible and took the bundle from him. Plain packaging, felt soft, like clothes.

Clothes.

Urgh, Tonya.

I called her up and she answered with a voice that made it clear she was still in bed.

"I'm here staring at a priority next day parcel that feels suspiciously like your doing. Am I right?" I asked.

She grunted and yawned a bit. "Might be … "

I couldn't stop smiling. "You're a very good very bad friend, you know that?"

She laughed. "Tell me how bad I am when you've opened it. The girls are away, right?"

"Right … "

"Then enjoy. Send me selfies. Later though, I was a-fucking-sleep before you called. You early risers piss me right off."

"This?! This isn't early, this is mid-bloody-day for us parents." I  turned the parcel over in my hands, enjoying the rush of excitement that  was replacing my muggy head. "I'll send you selfies," I said. "Thank  you, honestly. I'm really touched."                       
       
           



       

"Open it before you say that, and no, I'm not sending them back. No matter what."

She was gone before I could argue.

I tore open the parcel with less care than I should've considering my  recent investment in false nails, and let out a gasp as the items  tumbled free. Underwear. Raunchy underwear. I held up the suspenders,  looked at the posing woman on the front and tried to imagine me in her  place. It made me laugh out loud.

I sent Tonya a text. I love you, but you are a very bad influence.

Use them! She sent back. Book yourself in for a bloody Bang Gang before Mandy poxy Taylor takes all the slots!! Live a little!!

Live a little …  I'm not sure a five-man fuck-fest counted as living a little, even if it was on my bucket list.

I pulled myself up. Since when has it been on my bucket list?

But I knew since when. Since bloody tuxedo night. My bloody bodywand  hadn't known the meaning of overworked until I saw those guys dressed in  their finest. And Trent out of it.

I called to Nanna that I was heading upstairs for a bit, and it mattered  little to her since she was busy reading the Saturday Fashion pull-out.  I crept away with the raunchy haul in my arms and examined the stash on  the bed.

Some of it was elegant and tasteful. Some of it was drop-dead gorgeous  –   all lace and rich colour and fine styling. Some of it made me burn up  at the thought  –  stockings, suspenders and …  oh my life, a pair of  crotchless red knickers to go with them. I held up a babydoll in floaty  white  –  beautiful but so …  sexy.

I took down my jeans and pulled my top off over my head, my underwear  went next, and I took a breath as I looked at myself in the mirror. My  flabby bits looked a lot less glorious in the morning sun than they did  under lamplight. But so what?

I tried on the babydoll and pulled up the matching thong and my mind was made up.

I could actually get away with this …

I may be no supermodel, but the drape of the fabric hid my wobbly tummy,  and the push-up bra did what it was supposed to. The thong was high on  my hips and made my legs look longer than they were. I put my hand on my  waist and turned, shot myself my sexiest look.

Fucking hell, maybe …  just maybe …

I did another twirl and imagined Trent in the room. Would he look at me  the way he used to? The way he did when I was still young and firm and  desperate for his dick at every opportunity?

What about Buck? Hugh? Jimmy O? Would they want a piece of this? Would  this be up to standard? Standard enough for young Petey, who's probably  more used to girls his own age..?

I shuddered at the thought.

And should've stopped thinking about it altogether, but I couldn't.

I tried on the suspender belt and the crotchless knickers  –  Sweet Jesus!   –  then slipped on the racy little bra that went along with them. They  complimented my new hair perfectly. One for the win. I just needed …

I reached into the wardrobe and tugged out a dusty box from the back.  The cardboard was all battered but the shoes inside weren't. I stepped  into the ridiculously high black heels and did another twirl and it  looked awesome, like I'd never stopped wearing them.

Shit. Maybe I could really do this …

Maybe I really could be sexy again …

Maybe, just maybe …

I snapped a crazy impromptu selfie, complete with pout, and sent it off  to Tonya before I could change my mind. She called in a heartbeat.

"You look fucking incredible, Jo! Oh my God, you look amazing!"

I laughed. "Maybe I'm not quite past it yet."

"Like hell you're past it!" She paused. "So …  you going to go in for the  Mandy Taylor special? Since the rest of the village is doing it, why  not?"

The thought of the school-mums getting down and dirty in Darren's garage gave me weird shivers.

"Will you ever let it up?" I sighed. "I couldn't … "

"Why?"

"Because …  Darren …  because of what we were …  because I'm … "

"Scared?" she finished. "Christ, Jo, everyone is going to have the shits  before they do something like this, and Trent's Trent. It was a long  fucking time ago. He does this shit for a living, he's not going to get  all fucking freaked out, is he? He'd probably do Nanna and not even  break a sweat."                       
       
           



       

I cringed. "Jeez, Tonya. Too much."

She laughed. "Sorry. You know what I mean."

Maybe she had a point. Not about Nanna, but about Trent being so mercenary about all this. I sighed, sat on the edge of the bed.

I heard her rustle about, flick the kettle on. "Answer me this. Is it over, really? Between you and Darren, I mean?"

My answer was instant. "Yes. Totally yes." And it was over. We'd tried  and tried before we called time, and that was years ago. Neither of us  had made a move since, neither of us even hinted at it. Once upon a time  I'd secretly hoped he'd turn all Casanova and howl at the moon outside  my window, profess his undying devotion and climb up my hair to my bed,  but of course he hadn't.

He was with Stacey long before I ever contemplated getting with Brian,  and they got pretty serious pretty damn quick. She'd even earned an  engagement ring by all accounts, she'd gushed right the way around the  village about it  –  and he'd never got that far with us, not even in all  those years, which says a lot.

He was definitely over it. Long over me.

He wouldn't even break a sweat.