“Oh?”
“I’m going out with the lads from the building site. We’re going to the races. I may not be home until late.”
“Okay.”
“Is that all right?” He smiles and takes hold of my hand, stroking his thumb against my palm.
“Of course it is.” I don’t mind him going out. I think about bringing Cal’s journal home to read all day, but can’t risk it being in the house.
“Which reminds me, will you iron my shirt and navy suit, love?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thanks.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. I smile, though each time he’s overly affectionate with me, it makes my skin crawl a little. I’m still not used to him being like this and can’t help wonder what’s come over him.
Maybe it’s when he thought I was having an affair.You were having an affair.Yes, but he didn’t know that.Er, I think he had a pretty good idea.Yes, well, whatever, it’s made him realise he doesn’t want to lose me, and he’s been nice ever since. I’m not complaining, it’s just odd.
* * *
CAL
After parkingon the roadside outside Dean’s three-bed-semi, I walk through the metal gate at the front of his drive. I shake my head at the old VW camper parked on the grass next to another old banger with two wheels missing. He says he’s doing them up, but there’s been no improvement in three years.
“Hey,” I shout, stepping through the front door.
“Did you get the beers?” Dean calls from wherever he is in the house.
“Yeah.” I walk down the hall with the crate of Stella. As I walk through the kitchen door, I stop dead, eyeing Liz sitting on the worktop. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Dean walks in, buttoning up his shirt. “She's just leaving.”
“Are you two fucking now?” I glare at the two of them.
Dean shrugs and takes the crate from me. “I’ll put these in the utility. There’s no room in this fridge.” He carries the crate through to the utility room at the side of the house.
Liz smirks, then runs her tongue along her top teeth. “Are you jealous?”
“Fuck, no.” Although I am surprised Dean would go there after everything she did.
She opens her legs on the counter, and I glimpse her naked pussy underneath her short, black denim skirt. I dart my eyes away. “For fuck’s sake, Liz.”
She jumps off the worktop, her heels click against the tiled floor. “Chill, Cal. We had fun, didn't we?” Her hands glide up my chest. She smiles and moves closer.
I get a hint of alcohol on her breath, and she smells of strong perfume mixed with a brewery. She brushes her lips against mine, but I feel nothing. Her hand rubs my cock, and I take a step back before it gets any ideas.
“What’s wrong, Cal? Has she sucked all the juice out of you?”
She's right. I don't have any juice left. Liz hasn't even got my cock’s attention, and that lad’s always up for whatever he can get.
I grab her wrists with both hands and remove them from my body. “Fuck off, Liz. I’m not interested.”
“Why, because you’re shagging big-tits-Bethanie or whatever she's called?” She sticks her small, perky tits out, and I can see she isn’t wearing a bra. Her pert nipples are prominent underneath the red cotton of her tight vest top. Tapping her fingernails against the laminated work surface, she glares at me.
Dean walks back into the kitchen. “Are you still here?”
“Her name is Stephanie,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I'm not with her. Thanks to you.”
“You two sick fucks brought that on yourself.” She points between me and Dean. “Don't shoot the messenger.”