Dirty Bad Strangers(35)

“Well?” she spat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s my rest day. I was resting.”

“I sent you messages.”

“And I didn’t see them in time.” I made myself a coffee, and made the bitch one too. I didn’t even get a thanks.

“You’ve been off with that loser, Steve, again, haven’t you? Why do you insist on hanging around with him? He’s a nobody. Such a nobody that even his wife left him, and she was a frumpy old cow with no prospects.”

“Stop it,” I snapped. “Don’t start on Steve.”

“You should have been there. Those pictures are going in Fame magazine, a pull-out on that new musical.”

“So?”

“So, we’re the Redferns. We should have been there. Both of us.”

“At least they got you,” I sneered. “Brightening up their afternoon like a ray of golden sunshine.”

“I’m only grumpy with you, Jason. Nobody else pisses me off as much as you do.”

“I’m honoured to have the privilege.” Even April’s digs couldn’t dampen my mood. I leaned back against our grossly expensive kitchen units, smiling at nothing.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Does anything have to be wrong?”

“You’re smiling,” she sniped. “That means something must be wrong.”

“Maybe I’m just happy.”

“You’d be happier with another decent sponsorship in the bag. You played well yesterday, a decent public appearance could have nailed another offer, got everyone talking about you. You think I do all this shit for me, Jason, but it’s for us. We should be making hay while the fucking sun shines, we’ll not be hot property forever.”

She was wrong about my happiness. Another sponsorship would mean fuck all to me, same as the rest of our shitty fake life. “I hope I fade off the radar as soon as possible when this season’s up.”

“Sure you do. And then what? Steve going to give you a job in his workshop, chopping up bits of wood like he does? You’re Jason bastard Redfern, bloody act like it.”

“I know who I am, April.”

“You’ve never known who you are, Jason. That’s why you need me. You’re still a little boy trying to make things up to his poor dead daddy, it’s me who keeps a grip of this operation.”

I slammed my mug down so hard it cracked the handle. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snarled. “What the fuck?”

She didn’t flinch, just fixed me with spiteful eyes. “That’s better. I was wondering where grumpy Jason had fucked off to.”

“You’re a fucking bitch, April,” I spat. “Nothing but a spiteful fucking bitch.”

I stormed away, but her words screeched after me, ricocheting around the hallway like venomous bullets.

“Sign the papers, you stupid asshole. Sign the papers and get the fuck out of my house! At least then one of us can be fucking happy!”

Not on her sorry, fake fucking life.







I slammed the photos back in the drawer. Closing up the memories with them. April was a fucking bitch.

I only had one picture on display after all these years, an enlarged photo on my bedside dresser. Me and my dad in football shirts, back from the game at Birmingham United. I’m on his shoulders in the photo, arms reaching to the sky as he beams with pride.

My first big teenage game, my first real win. Age thirteen and a junior star in the making. He was so damn proud.

Six years later and he’d be dead and I’d be washed up. Such a fucking crock of shit.

I scrolled through my phone, desperate for the distraction. It was too soon to text her, way too soon. Psycho stalker territory, for sure.

Turns out I didn’t need to, my phone beeped in my hand.

Gemma: I’ve numbed my wounds with snakebite and black. Pole was a washout. xx

My heart thumped at the sight of her words, the smell of her came rushing back.

Can you still feel me, dirty girl?

Gemma: Everywhere. I love it. xx

Gemma: I’m also drunk. I should have waited at least three days to message you. xx

I smiled. The unspoken rules of sex.

I was about to message you. Fuck the sexting etiquette. I want to see you again.

Gemma: I’ll check Tessa’s calendar. xx

Has it changed since yesterday?

Gemma: No. Why? xx

Then you don’t need to check it. I’ll take Tuesday if it’s still available.

My stomach churned. Too much? I fucking hoped not.

Gemma: It’s still available. 7pm ok for you? Same drill. xx

Perfect.

I wondered if she was smiling. Sore and used up and drunk on snakebite. I wondered if she was playing with her sweet swollen clit, jiggling those pretty tits at the thought of me. My cock was hard for her, desperate for more.