Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 160782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
On New Year’s Eve with a few margaritas under my belt I texted Cam, Josh and Adrian.
Happy New Year Thinking of you X
I remember smiling and tearing up when Cameron’s message bounced straight back. He must have been really drunk.
Happy New Year, baby.
I love you
I waited again and when my phone beeped a message, I excitedly grabbed it…Adrian, who must also be inebriated, as his text didn’t even make sense.
Happy New Year, Cinderella.
We miss you.
Read the message!
Read the fucking message. I wanted a message from Joshua…not you, not Cameron. I wanted him, only him, to miss me. After realizing that Joshua was probably on a secluded island like he has been for the last five years with bitch vet, I had no choice. I did what any self-respecting girl with a broken heart would do in this situation. You know the situation…staying home to watch the fireworks on television with my mother and grandmother on New Year’s Eve. I threw my back into those margaritas, put on Beyonce and danced for two hours while Gran and Mum sat on the lounge and watched me, and of course pretended I was a good dancer. I think the term was bootylicious to be exact. Jeez, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is. What a way to ring in the New Year. I frown as the memory crosses my mind. I’m such a loser.
Max pulls me out of my daydream as he jumps back into
the car. “Ready for your first day?” He widens his eyes at me as he smiles.
“Not really.” I frown. I’m starting a new job today and I’m nervous as hell. I’m going to be working in the public hospital system as a psychologist. A regular straight psychologist and it’s only for thirty hours a week. After Joshua’s divorce settlement, thankfully money is no longer a problem for me. I haven’t touched the money, but the interest isn’t bad. The girls and my psychologist have been on my case about the fact that my job as a sex therapist was perhaps affecting my personal life and in the end, I had to agree with them. I still suffer from the nightmares but I’m so nervous about starting this job that I haven’t had one in five days, a record. Maybe the change is working already.
“Are you still going out tonight?” Max asks.
“Yeah, is Steven coming?” I murmur, as I check my makeup in the sun-visor mirror for the tenth time since we left home.
“Yes, he starts at nine. What time will you be leaving?”
I shrug. “Not sure, we will wait till he starts if you want.” “Okay. Good.”
Max has become over-protective and I have to say it’s rather comforting. The whole Coby Allender episode and the knowledge that the authorities still don’t know if he has an accomplice on the outside totally freaks me out. Twelve young women raped and murdered in cold blood…disturbing. In the end, I had to tell Max about the whole embarrassing vibrator theft and threatened him with death if he told Joshua, Ben or Adrian. He has thankfully stayed silent but has hired two more bodyguards.
Steven is young and good-looking. He comes out with us at night…and Abbie is conspiring to sleep with him. Surprise, surprise. Mark is older and he works Saturdays and Sundays through the day and Max hangs with me through the week. It works out well because Max gets to spend time with his girlfriend and her girls and Joshua is still footing the bill. Not sure about why…but who cares…it’s not like he can’t afford it.
He pulls into the hospital parking lot. “Good luck, boss lady.” He smirks
I screw up my face. “Thanks. I’m freaking out. What if I break into sex talk? I’m so desensitized to sexual therapy I fear I don’t know what’s normal psychologist talk anymore.”
He laughs. “Just try to not say the words vibrator, semen or prostitute.” He bites his lip to stifle his smile.
I nod and smile broadly. “I kind of like those words. What about Viagra…can I say Viagra?” I tease.
“Yeah, if you get me a script.” He giggles.
“Ewww, gross.” I frown. “Too much information.”
“See, it’s working already. You never say ‘Ewww, gross’.”
I laugh and hunch my shoulders. “Hey…you’re right. See you tonight. Wish me luck.”
1 am Cargo Bar
We sit at the huge wooden high tables on our cane high back stools. The cream Chinese lanterns glow a warm light throughout the space and the sound of loud laughter and voices echo throughout the room. David Guetta plays in the background. We are celebrating the completion of my first week in my new job. It seems we have found a new hangout for Friday nights. Bridget was asked here a couple of weeks ago to meet this guy she fancied and we sort of became instantly hooked. This place definitely deserves the title, Dry Cleaners. Never have you seen so many beautiful men in suits under one roof, Friday night work drinks of course. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel, they don’t stand a chance. I have to say, I myself stand a very good chance of being picked for the Australian Olympic team…in prick teasing. I seem to have mastered the art of, as Abbie says, not giving a shit. I give them fake names, fake jobs and fake phone numbers, not to mention my fake intentions. Just last week my name was Gertrude, and I was a taxidermist.