I really wasn’t.
He looks up at me and his face softens. “I know. Thank you.”
I simply nod and smile, and as I do, the witch appears. “Fine. I won’t get any water and if I dehydrate… well - fuck you,” she says as she plonks herself next to Oliver, face to the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Bastard,” she mumbles beneath her breath.
Oliver sits forward and rests his head in his hands, shaking it. “You’re something else Stacy, what is your fucking problem?”
“You know exactly what my fucking problem is, you arsehole!”
Oh bejesus, couldn’t they do this another time when I’m not right here? Bea… Alexia… where are you? Please hurry…
“Actually, no, I don’t. I thought we had all this sorted this morning.”
“Yeah, so did I, until your little ‘BFF’ over here started making eyes at you and your dick practically stood up.”
I gasp audibly - shocked. “I… uh… no…”
“No, Clare, don’t. Stacy you mother fucker!” No, Oliver! Don’t, please don’t give her ammunition, don’t talk to her like that… “How fucking dare you talk to her like that! Me? Talk to me how the fuck you want, but don’t bring Clare into your stupid insecurities.”
“Aww, how sweet, sticking up for your idiotic, naive, ‘too-sweet-to-be-true’ whore over here?”
That bitch! “Excuse me,” I butt in, “Stacy, you can call me whatever you like, but whatever you think, no one is making eyes at anyone… now, we have another couple of hours to sit here together…”
“No, sorry to interrupt you Clare, but no - she not calling you shit like that. Stacy, she’s not a fucking whore and you know it. Funnily enough, some people in this world are just nice. It’s a bizarre concept for you, I now realise, but that’s what this is. I’m fucking done with your shitty mouth.”
“You’re done, huh? Done with my shitty mouth? Well that’s just fine, you’re welcome to each other. I bet this shitty mouth gives a fucking better blowy than hers ever could anyway, I bet it’s like putting it in a wet sock.”
Oliver pauses, simply staring at her, smiling. Oh no… no… no Oliver don’t, no! You can’t!
“Actually, it’s not like that at all,” he says simply and I drop my face in my hands. Oh god, no.
There’s a long pause, and suddenly I hear a sharp slap and as I look up, she’s heading my way. Oh holy mother…
~~~~~~~
We step out of the vehicle outside the impressive building that is - ‘ Wynn, Las Vegas ’. Our bags are loaded onto a shiny golden trolley and the car taken swiftly by a valet attendant. We are escorted inside by someone who has been waiting for ‘Mr. Berkeley and party’. Stacy lingers silently behind the group and I try to calm the churning in my stomach as I have done for the entire second half of the journey. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he tell her?
I lightly stroke my face where she walloped me, it’s really sore, as is my boob from the elbow she rammed into it. Oliver pulled her off me and held her down until she had calmed, and the rest of the journey remained silent. Alexia is wondering what the hell has gone on and keeps asking what has happened to my face, so I know it must be red.
I cried a little whilst pretending to be asleep, hoping no one noticed the sniffling. I can’t tell you how much that hurt - physically, and how mortified I am that Stacy now knows what happened. Oliver and I are now the bad guys. Which we have been all along, but at least it wasn’t known before.
After checking in, I grab my bag and run. I can’t be around anyone right now; I need to be on my own. I’m scared that Stacy will launch another well-deserved attack on me, I’m scared to get lectured by my friends and I’m scared to speak to Oliver for fear of slapping him myself.
After a short while, I find a small chaise and sit slowly, again - putting my hand to my sore cheek. I wish I could cup my boob right now to soothe it, but I
He looks up at me and his face softens. “I know. Thank you.”
I simply nod and smile, and as I do, the witch appears. “Fine. I won’t get any water and if I dehydrate… well - fuck you,” she says as she plonks herself next to Oliver, face to the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Bastard,” she mumbles beneath her breath.
Oliver sits forward and rests his head in his hands, shaking it. “You’re something else Stacy, what is your fucking problem?”
“You know exactly what my fucking problem is, you arsehole!”
Oh bejesus, couldn’t they do this another time when I’m not right here? Bea… Alexia… where are you? Please hurry…
“Actually, no, I don’t. I thought we had all this sorted this morning.”
“Yeah, so did I, until your little ‘BFF’ over here started making eyes at you and your dick practically stood up.”
I gasp audibly - shocked. “I… uh… no…”
“No, Clare, don’t. Stacy you mother fucker!” No, Oliver! Don’t, please don’t give her ammunition, don’t talk to her like that… “How fucking dare you talk to her like that! Me? Talk to me how the fuck you want, but don’t bring Clare into your stupid insecurities.”
“Aww, how sweet, sticking up for your idiotic, naive, ‘too-sweet-to-be-true’ whore over here?”
That bitch! “Excuse me,” I butt in, “Stacy, you can call me whatever you like, but whatever you think, no one is making eyes at anyone… now, we have another couple of hours to sit here together…”
“No, sorry to interrupt you Clare, but no - she not calling you shit like that. Stacy, she’s not a fucking whore and you know it. Funnily enough, some people in this world are just nice. It’s a bizarre concept for you, I now realise, but that’s what this is. I’m fucking done with your shitty mouth.”
“You’re done, huh? Done with my shitty mouth? Well that’s just fine, you’re welcome to each other. I bet this shitty mouth gives a fucking better blowy than hers ever could anyway, I bet it’s like putting it in a wet sock.”
Oliver pauses, simply staring at her, smiling. Oh no… no… no Oliver don’t, no! You can’t!
“Actually, it’s not like that at all,” he says simply and I drop my face in my hands. Oh god, no.
There’s a long pause, and suddenly I hear a sharp slap and as I look up, she’s heading my way. Oh holy mother…
~~~~~~~
We step out of the vehicle outside the impressive building that is - ‘ Wynn, Las Vegas ’. Our bags are loaded onto a shiny golden trolley and the car taken swiftly by a valet attendant. We are escorted inside by someone who has been waiting for ‘Mr. Berkeley and party’. Stacy lingers silently behind the group and I try to calm the churning in my stomach as I have done for the entire second half of the journey. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he tell her?
I lightly stroke my face where she walloped me, it’s really sore, as is my boob from the elbow she rammed into it. Oliver pulled her off me and held her down until she had calmed, and the rest of the journey remained silent. Alexia is wondering what the hell has gone on and keeps asking what has happened to my face, so I know it must be red.
I cried a little whilst pretending to be asleep, hoping no one noticed the sniffling. I can’t tell you how much that hurt - physically, and how mortified I am that Stacy now knows what happened. Oliver and I are now the bad guys. Which we have been all along, but at least it wasn’t known before.
After checking in, I grab my bag and run. I can’t be around anyone right now; I need to be on my own. I’m scared that Stacy will launch another well-deserved attack on me, I’m scared to get lectured by my friends and I’m scared to speak to Oliver for fear of slapping him myself.
After a short while, I find a small chaise and sit slowly, again - putting my hand to my sore cheek. I wish I could cup my boob right now to soothe it, but I
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