“Never really got chance to show you how much I love you, Cal. Can show you now, though, babe.”
Guiding hands, teasing me backwards, my head on her thighs staring up at her smile. She loosened her dressing gown and pulled it open, her neat little tits on display. Her hands felt nice on my face, stroking me.
“That’s it, Cal, just relax.”
I was getting fucking hard again, horny over Sophie Harding on her knees in the rubbish. I forced the memory away. She was fucking gone now. Gone from me.
Vicki was stroking her tits. “Most relaxing thing in the world,” she soothed, just ask Slay, sends him right off. Not you though, Cal, I’m gonna make you feel good.”
A nipple flopped against my lips and I sucked it in. It tasted like baby lotion.
“Yes...” Vicki moaned. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted for this, Cal... so long...”
I tried to lose myself in her. Maybe she could love me, maybe she was the only one who ever would. I put it to the test, clamping my teeth fucking hard.
“Fuck, Callum, ow!” she hissed. “No wonder they say you’re fucking rough!”
Her hand moved down my stomach, coming to rest at the bulge in my jeans. She was gasping, little snatches of air, her greedy palm rubbing at my cock through the denim. I sucked her little tit right into my mouth and gave it all I got.
“Stop, Cal, stop!” she rasped. “Can’t take no more of that. It really fucking hurts.”
Hurts? She should be fucking moaning for more. Nah, she weren’t the one for me. Not even close.
I hated her for it, but not as much as I hated myself for not loving her back. I slapped her hand away, sitting back up as she gawped at me, rubbing her teeth-marked tit.
“Sorry, Vick. This just ain’t me.”
She looked so hurt. She could join the fucking club.
“Sorry,” she said, though she had nothing to be sorry about.
“Look, Vicki, I’m the one who’s sorry, but you’re a mate. Ain’t no good trying to be something we’re not.”
“I love you, Cal. I just fucking love you.”
I met her with tired eyes. “Please, Vick, not now, right?”
She shifted in her seat, coming closer. “Kiss me,” she said. “Just once. If you don’t feel anything then fine.”
“Ain’t no point,” I said. “Ain’t gonna make no difference. I know what mates feel like, Vick, and this is mates.”
“Kiss me, Callum, please babe, just try it.”
She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, like something from pissing primary school. I leaned in close enough to give her the briefest peck on the lips.
“Properly!” she snapped. “Kiss me proper, Cal.”
“Fucking hell, Vick, it ain’t gonna make no fucking difference.”
I slammed my mouth on hers, shoving my tongue all the way in. It was fucking wet, and she was so keen, moaning in the back of her throat like it meant something. I pulled away. “Told ya,” I said, “just mates.”
“Not to me, babe,” she whispered. She touched her lips with her fingers as though I’d given her the kiss of fucking life. “This isn’t mates, Cal, this is so much more than mates.”
I stood up. “I said not now, Vick, how many more times?”
“We’d be good together, you and me.”
“I ain’t good for anyone, and this ain’t fucking right.”
“Stay with me!” she begged. “Please!”
I walked away but she followed, grabbing my wrist by the door and coming in for another kiss. I shoved her away harder than I meant to. “What’s fucking wrong with you?!”
“I’m in fucking love, Callum! That’s what’s fucking wrong with me!”
“You’re fucking crazy, that’s what you are.”
“Love makes people do crazy things, Callum Jackson, real crazy things.”
My stomach was tumbling. My brain was swimming too, swimming in pain, and hate, and rage, and love. Love for Sophie fucking Harding.
“Yes, it does.” I hissed. “It really fucking does.”
I slammed the door behind me, ignoring the whines from the shed.
“You’re staying here, tonight,” I said, holding a hand up to the little window. “You’ll be better off here.”
Casey cried as I left, then barked over and over. I could hear her from down the street, Vicki too. Both of them calling for me.
But I had a calling of my own.
***
Place gave me the creeps, no wonder they condemned the shithole. The tarmac was cracking all over, weeds poking through. I climbed the ramps slowly, taking care to stay in the middle, away from the crumbly edge. My paints were heavier than I thought, wrapped in a dirty tarpaulin tied up with rope. Got it from the garage, so it must have belonged to that dead guy. I raised the bottle of vodka in a toast.