She laughs wildly, making me clench my fist. If she was a bloke, she’d be feeling my knuckles right about now, but I give her a glare instead.
“Come on, Liz, you’ve had your fun.” Dean takes hold of her arm and ushers her towards the door.
“Okay, I'm going. I don't want to hang out with misery guts, anyway.” She stares at me as she walks away, then shouts from the hallway, “You’re no fun anymore, Cal.”
They reach the front door, and Dean slaps her on the arse. She kisses his lips, staring at me the whole time.
“See-ya, suckers,” she says, walking out the front door.
Dean walks back down the hall towards me. My eyes are like daggers firing at his chest. “What the fuck’s going on with you two?”
“I figured you didn't want her.” He walks past me, grabs the whiskey from the cupboard, and pours us both a drink.
I knock it back in one go, needing something to bring me down off the fucking ceiling before my clenched fist punches a wall. Or worse, Dean’s face. “You’re fucking?” I slam the glass down on the counter.
“She comes around sometimes, and I show her a good time. It's nothing serious.” Dean pours me another whiskey. “Look, if you don’t want me seeing Liz, I won’t see her again. She’s clearly still obsessed with you, anyhow.”
“I don’t give a shit who you fuck, just keep her out of my business.”
“Liz is all right. She’s fun.”
“Yeah, she’s great fun when she’s blackmailing my girlfriend.” I stop and realise I just called Steph, my girlfriend. I haven’t called her that in twenty years. It felt so natural to think of her that way.
“Come through.” Dean grabs a few cold cans from the kitchen fridge, and I follow him into the living room. I place my whiskey on the coffee table and sit on his leather sofa.
The dog, Buster, comes in, sniffing my legs. A big black German Shepherd. “Ay-up, mate.” He rests his nose on my lap, and I gently stroke the silver fur on his head. “He’s looking old now, and tired.”
“Aren’t we all?” Dean chuckles.
He’s right. I spotted a few grey hairs the other day. Steph’s probably the cause. I always said that woman would send me to an early grave. “What happened with that Daisy chick? She was hot.”
“It didn't work out, mate. She was always fucking nagging. She was worse than my mother. I moved her out as fast as she moved in.”
Dean opens a can of Stella and slides a can over to me. I knock back the remaining whiskey, then grab the can from the table and crack it open.
“So have you seen Steph since all that shit went down?”
“Nah, I dropped a book in for her at work last week. I wrote her a letter, but I don't expect her to come running. Noughts changed, has it? She's still married, whether I'm a dick or not.”
“Mate, I'm sorry.”
“Fuck it. It is what it is. It's just my fucking luck, init?”
“Here, this’ll make you feel better.” He tosses me a pre-rolled joint. I pull a lighter from my jean pocket and slouch back on the sofa.
“How's Priya and the kids?”
“They're all right. She's moving.” I light the joint and take a long drag, inhaling the sweet scent.
“Where to?” Dean holds his hand out for the lighter, and I throw it across the coffee table towards the leather armchair he’s sitting in.
“Fucking Australia.”
He lights up and leans back in the armchair after tossing the lighter back on the wooden coffee table. “How come?”
“Her dad’s dying. They’ve given him a year to live. Nothing more they can do for him.” I take another drag, trying to think what this tastes like. It’s a different flavour to what Dean usually has. “Naturally, she wants to move back home and help take care of him and her mum and spend time with him while she can. The girls hardly know her parents, and she blames me for keeping her here the last ten years.”
“I’m surprised you’re letting her take the girls. Can’t they stay here with you?”