The Debt & the Doormat(69)

‘Well then it's fine,’ Grace says, stretching out like a cat. ‘I’m with Jazz. If it's not exclusive she can sleep with whoever she likes.’

Tramp.

‘Anyway,’ Jazz says, demanding our attention back to the problem. ‘I’m furious with him. He made me go all the way to Leicester just so I could watch him go off and fuck some slag.’

‘This is what I was worried would happen! You two will hate each other and won't be able to be around each other anymore and I’ll be like a child whose parents are divorced and have shared custody.’

‘Don't be silly Pops. It’ll be fine,’ she smiles reassuringly.

‘Promise me?’

‘Of course,’ she smiles, before I notice her grimace at Grace when she thinks I’m not looking. ‘So anyway, how was your day at work?’

I give her a run-down of the nightmare with the visa, but manage to keep out the terror alert I caused.

‘What a nightmare,’ she sympathises.

‘Yeah. Oh and then I helped Neville, this guy from work, out. Some bitches were being mean to him so I ended up sort of lying and telling them I’m sleeping with him.’

‘That is so cruel! Why?’ she says, outraged.

‘I know,’ I nod.

‘Why would a parent name their child Neville?’ She shakes her head, still seemingly horrified and doesn’t seem to notice the look I give her.

‘Anyway...now I’m meeting him tomorrow for a bit of a makeover.’

‘Let me come!’ Jazz says, sitting up and clapping her hands together. ‘I love a makeover!’

I think about quiet little Neville getting bossed around by Jazz and decide I’d probably scare the crap out of him.

‘He says he just wants to go by himself,’ I lie.

‘That's a shame,’ Jazz pouts.

Yeah, real shame, not.

God, it's just too damn hot! I’m practically cooked like a chicken.

‘I’m going to cool down,’ I announce, springing to my feet and rushing to get inside.

‘Wimp!’ Jazz calls after me.

I ignore her and open the fridge. Oh, it's so nice and cool in here. Ah! I pick up a bottle of water and then a packet of cheese. I put one to my head and the other on my lower back. Aah! Finally cool.

‘You alright there?’

I spin around in shock from Ryan’s voice, dropping the cheese and then the bottled water on my foot.

‘Shit.’

Why do I always have to act like such a dick around him? I bend down to pick them up, desperately trying to ignore his smirk as he watches me.

‘Don't help or anything,’ I snap.

‘Ooh, moody are we?’ he teases.

‘I’m just so bloody hot,’ I moan like a bratty child.

‘Yeah, I know. It's unbearable,’ he says, as he starts unloading some shopping into the fridge.

‘Well...I’m going back out there.’ Why do I feel the need to tell him that?

‘Ryan’s back,’ I say to the others as I sit back on my towel.

Grace perks up and starts reapplying her lipstick.

‘I hope he got more ice,’ Izzy says, draining most of her glass.

He appears at the back door, lifting the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe some sweat from his forehead. His stomach is so brown and toned that I can't help but stare, mesmerised by him.

‘Margarita party is it ladies?’

‘Woo!’ they all sing, raising their glasses.

I’m guessing this is a regular occurrence.

‘Apparently it's supposed to be this hot for the next week,’ he says, seeming horrified by the thought of it.

I watch him from the corner of my eye as he discreetly glances at Jazz’s boobs, then Izzy’s, then Grace’s. What a pig. Wait a minute. He just checked out mine! My boobs are worthy of being checked out!

He catches me watching him and quickly looks away. He lifts his t-shirt over his head, fully exposing his abs and his low slung jeans. Wow. They’re too low slung really. You can almost see...well, you can almost see. He picks up the hose and turns it on over his head soaking his brown curls. Is it me or did he just turn into slow motion? He turns around and his back muscles flex as he moves the hose around.

He looks up, this time catching me being a pervert and I quickly avert my gaze. Damn. Why did he have to catch me? He smiles to himself and squirts the hose briefly over all of us.

‘Ryan!’ Jazz shouts. ‘I just covered myself with cream!’

‘Sorry,’ he laughs, jumping down onto the end of my towel and shaking himself like a wet dog.

‘Thanks,’ I say drily, secretly loving the feel of his droplets.

‘The weirdest thing just happened,’ he announces.

‘Really?’ I say, trying to sound relaxed and uninterested.

‘Yeah, what Ry Ry?’ Grace purrs.

‘I just bumped into Tabitha and she broke up with me. She just said that she couldn’t go out with me. I’m not her type anymore apparently. What the hell is that all about?’

‘How bizarre!’ I shriek, far too suspiciously.

‘You need some cream on,’ Grace says, crawling suggestively over to him, her boobs spilling out. ‘Poor baby.’

She goes behind him and starts spreading cream over his back, making sure to press her boobs up against him at any opportunity.

‘I’m really not going to be out here long enough anyway,’ he tries to protest.

She ignores him and keeps touching him even when there’s no cream left. She’s practically dry humping him. I feel myself cringing for her.

‘Oh, Ryan!’ Jazz says, sitting up. ‘I forgot! I had a dream about you last night.’

‘Oh really?’ he enquires. ‘Doing anything interesting was I?’

‘Yeah, it was a sex dream actually,’ she says, throwing her head back cackling.

‘Why....why....why would you dream that?’ I ask, sounding slightly more desperate for the information than intended.

‘More importantly, was I any good?’ Ryan asks raising his eyebrows mischievously.

‘You were pretty damn good,’ Jazz says, fanning herself. ‘Woke up sweating and stuff, really weird.’

‘Interesting,’ he smiles. ‘Because in my dreams I’m surprisingly inadequate.’

‘Well, let’s just say last night you definitely knew your way around, if you know what I mean,’ she says, cackling some more.

‘I love it when we share,’ I say under my breath. ‘I think I’m going to go in.’

No point torturing myself. Between Jazz’s dreams and Grace’s groping I’m about to explode with jealousy.

‘No Pops! We’re going to get a take away later,’ Izzy says, looking surprisingly hurt.

‘It's too hot to eat. I think I’m just gonna shower and go to bed.’

No point staying here and making myself miserable.





Chapter 26




When I wake up the next morning I see it on the kitchen table. The picture of Ryan with his black eye and the dramatic headline shouting out at me from the front page.

LOCAL HERO SAVES OLD LADY GETTING MUGGED

Oh crap. I grab it, reading it quickly.

Ryan Davis, 32, from Shepherds Bush, bravely saved an old lady from getting mugged on Wednesday 19th. Ryan had been enjoying the sunshine, while on his way to a meeting, when he noticed an elderly lady getting harassed by some teenage thugs. He bravely decided to interject and although he suffered a black eye, he managed to save the elderly lady from any harm and give her handbag back to her. The lady is thought to have gone home flustered. Ryan says ‘Anyone would have done the same thing. It's just instinct’.

If you saw this incident or know the thugs, thought to be between 15 to 28, of medium build with black hooded cardigans, please contact crime stoppers.

Oh dear. When I put it down I notice a post-it stuck to it that I hadn’t seen before with Ryan’s handwriting.

This is your fault!

So I think we’re safe to say that he’s slightly pissed off with me. Then I notice another little story with the headline ‘Crime Duo Targeting Couples’. I scan over it, praying that it's not about us.

‘Mr and Mrs Clennel were horrified to find them trying to steal their vase, a wedding present given to them by Mrs Clennel’s deceased mother. ‘They’re just animals!’ she says of the incident. ‘Anyone that can do that to someone, it's just horrific!’ The police were called to the incident but they were let go with a warning.’

Let go with a warning? Tried to steal the vase? There’s nothing in there about it being an accident! About my hands being glued to it. What a bunch of lying bastards.

‘The first woman is described as tall, thin with blonde curly hair and small grey eyes. She is thought to be impersonating a rich child. The second woman is described as quite short, chubby with black hair, green eyes and freckles’

Chubby? Fucking chubby? When have I ever been described as chubby? So I may not be as thin as Jazz, but I mean who the hell is? She makes Kate Moss look like a fat bitch. I mean, chubby? Really?

I try to push it to the back of my mind as I walk hurriedly along Oxford Street during my lunch hour. Neville’s waiting for me outside Topshop as agreed, dressed in a dark green pinstriped suit and tartan shirt.

‘Hi Poppy,’ he says awkwardly.

‘Hey Neville. Right, no time to waste. I hope you’ve got your credit card.’

I link arms with him and drag him into Topman, picking up clothes as we go through.