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The three cars pull up and they jump in and drive away.
I stand in the bush with my hand on my hips. Are you kidding me? He’s not going there. I’m not frigging going there. VIP room. My blood boils. I should blow up that bloody place. I narrow my eyes and storm back upstairs with renewed vigour. Right, when I get home I’m ringing Jes and I am going to tell him that it’s on baby… and, yes, I fuck on first dates. Mr Stanton is going to miss the boat. Tough luck. And if anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s bloody me!
I walk back upstairs and over to the scattered group.
Bridget is sitting with Wilson. She smiles when she sees me. “What did you do to Joshua?” She raises her eyebrows.
I narrow my eyes. “Nothing … yet.” I glare at her.
Wilson smiles. “He ran out of here like a scared puppy.”
“He should be scared. I’m going, Bridget. Binge
drinking at my house at eight.” I pick up my bag and make my way to the door.
She nods and smiles at Wilson. “Jeez, binge drinking at eight, could get messy.”
“So then what did you do?” Abbie asks.
“I kept hiding,” I mutter into my drink.
She rolls her eyes. “You should have jumped out of the bush and punched him straight in the nose.”
I nod as I run my hand over my face. “Yeah, I know,” I reply.
We are sitting in my lounge room. It’s ten o’clock. I am in my pyjamas and we are drinking wine.
“You should have seen him when he came back through the stairwell door. He was totally freaked out.” Bridget smiles.
Abbie points her glass at me. “How was he anyway?”
“Ridiculously hot. On fire.” I sigh.
“Hotter than that guy you kissed last week?”
I pull a disgusted face. “You are kidding, right? No one compares to Joshua Stanton. How in the hell do I get him out of my system?”
We sit in silence as we think.
“Screw it out,” Bridget smiles as she flops back onto the lounge.
“What?” I screw my face up.
“Just have sex. Some poor unsuspecting random guy. Have sex with him. Trust me. Things will be different once you have been with someone else. Broaden your horizons.”
“I do need sex,” I whisper.
“Then JFDI.” Abbie raises her eyebrows at me.
“Huh?” I frown.
“Just fucking do it,” she snaps. “Right. Tomorrow we are having a girly day. Pedicures, facials and then a massage, then we are going to the Ivy and you,” she points her wine glass at me, “are going to score, hopefully with Jesten.” She raises her eyebrows.
“No, not Jesten,” I reply as I shake my head. “We are friends, not Jes. He’s too like Mr Stanton. Someone completely different. Maybe a big beautiful black man.”
“Ohh, yeah,” Bridget laughs. “Now we are talking.”
What a day of pampering. We have just left our beautician where we had facials, pedicures, waxing and bleaching, squeezed in around a beautiful lunch, and now we are going to Abbie’s massage parlour. She comes here once a month.
