Drive Me Crazy (19 page)

‘And you don’t want to be a mistress, I take it?’

‘Nope.’

‘And he wouldn’t leave his wife for you?’

‘Nope. I can’t even begin to imagine a scenario where we’re a proper couple. Before, when I would try to imagine it, I would see the most beautiful montage of happy, smiley romantic crap that may as well be set to an Ed Sheeran song. It looked wonderful, and I wanted that, but I’m never going to have that with someone who doesn’t text me back.’

‘It’s good that you realise this,’ he tells me. ‘Seriously. I thought I was going to have to give you some hard truths, but you’re a smart girl. We just need to get your life back on track, that’s all.’

‘You make it sound so simple.’ I laugh.

‘It
is
simple,’ he tells me confidently. ‘Leave it to me, OK? I know you’ve got offices to visit, but I’m sure we can make time for a little self-discovery.’

‘Oh, forget work,’ I tell him. ‘I’m not doing a second of work for that man while we’re away. No one is under any illusions now, fuck it. Although I’m not entirely happy putting my life in the hands of a grown man who picks fights with teenagers.’

‘OK, look, I wasn’t even going to tell you…but they were saying some stuff about us. I was just sticking up for us and it went a bit too far.’

I think for a moment. ‘Us? Or me?’

‘Us,’ he insists. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

I feel like Danny is trying to spare my feelings, so I don’t push it. I wonder what they were saying about me. I know I wasn’t looking too fresh this morning, unless it was my outfit. I know Danny calls me a Stepford Wife, but I don’t look that out of place, do I?

I think about it for a moment before announcing: ‘Fuck ’em.’

‘I like the new Candy much more than the old Candy.’ Danny laughs.

I rest my head on Danny’s shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy.

‘I think I do too,’ I tell him. And it’s true. For the first time in a long time, I’m starting to feel more like myself again.

Chapter 24

For the second morning in a row, I woke up cuddled up to Danny. The only difference today is that my arse is much less sore and I feel less like I want to strangle him. Still, it wasn’t intentional. The plan was for Danny to sleep on the sofa once his family went to bed, but I guess we fell asleep.

I saw an entirely different side to Danny yesterday. Despite his cheeky charm offensive, he’s just a boy who loves his family and feels pain when he is cheated on. Yes, OK, so he’s also the kind of guy who steals drugs from teenagers and pisses off policemen, who gets vulnerable young ladies drunk and tattooed, etcetera, etcetera.

When we got up, Danny’s mum was still asleep, so Danny insisted we didn’t wake her to say goodbye because she needed her rest. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s because he didn’t want to endure a painful goodbye, but I’d never say as much. After what he told me about his gran last night, it sounds to me like he doesn’t like to keep people too close – in case he loses them, I guess.

His dad dropped us off at the garage, and now we’re on the road again.

As we zip along in the now fully functioning (well, as much as it ever was) Love Bug, Danny spies a burger van at the side of the road and pulls over.

‘I’m starving,’ Danny announces. ‘You must be too.’

‘I’m fine,’ I lie.

‘No you’re not – don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t eat much last night.’

‘I just wasn’t hungry,’ I tell him as I climb over the driver’s seat and follow him to the van.

‘Well you must be now, so breakfast is on me,’ he tells me.

‘Look, it’s not a dieting thing, I promise you,’ I start, but he interrupts.

‘I’m not your bulimia counsellor. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’

‘Dick,’ I reply. ‘No, I was just going to say that I don’t eat from anywhere that doesn’t have a postcode. No offence,’ I add, noticing that the girl working there has heard me.

‘You have to eat something, Candy,’ Danny reasons.

‘I’m fine, I have this,’ I tell him, pulling a SkinnyKwik bar from my handbag and opening it.

‘That?’ Danny playfully slaps the bar out of my hand, causing it to hit the ground so I can’t eat it now. ‘That’s not food.’

‘It’s a meal replacement bar,’ I inform him. ‘It’s just the right number of calories, but thank you for ruining it.’

‘You’ll just have to have what I’m having now,’ he says with a triumphant smile. ‘Two cheeseburgers with chips, please.’

‘And do you want your burgers in a stottie or in a doughnut?’ the girl asks, breaking halfway through to blow a bubble with her chewing gum.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Danny asks, his eyes widening with amazement.

‘Do you want it in a doughnut instead? It’s a glazed doughnut.’

I feel my jaw drop in a combination amazement and disgust.

‘I don’t see how I can say no to that,’ Danny laughs. ‘Two of those please.’

‘That sounds kind of fattening,’ I start.

‘It is,’ the girl replies. ‘We only get fat truckers eating them – no one as fit as you,’ she tells Danny, blatantly flirting. ‘And you’re going to die,’ she tells me.

Before I get a chance to say anything, we’re interrupted from our impending coronary by a voice. ‘Oi, a word,’ the man shouts.

I look over and see a policeman walking towards us.

‘Oh, shit, not more police,’ I whisper to Danny.

It’s only as the man approaches us that we realise he’s not an actual police officer, he’s a community support officer.

‘Oh, don’t worry, he’s not a real policeman,’ Danny tells me. ‘You’re not a real policeman, are you?’

I know that Danny doesn’t mean any disrespect by this, but the officer doesn’t take it too well. He looks angry, like maybe he gets this a lot, and it’s starting to get to him.

‘You littered,’ he tells me.

‘I littered?’ I ask in disbelief. ‘When?’

The officer nods towards the SkinnyKwik bar on the ground.

‘Oh, come on,’ I start. Truth be told, I do feel braver because he’s not technically a real police officer. ‘He knocked that out of my hand – like, thirty seconds ago. I’m going to pick it up.’

‘Pick it up then,’ the officer insists. ‘Or I’ll fine you.’

The officer is clearly pissed off, and unleashing the full force of his authority on us because he can, but this just winds Danny up more.

‘Don’t do it, Candy,’ Danny tells me.

‘It’s fine,’ I insist, bending over to pick it up and dropping it in the bin next to me.

‘There’s a princess,’ the officer patronises me. ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

‘Breakfast is up,’ the girl calls out, dumping two polystyrene boxes down in front of us. I grab it and open it, taking in the sight of the enormous cheeseburger encased in a glazed doughnut.

‘You’re eating that?’ the officer asks me, and I nod. ‘You’re going to die.’

‘What does everyone keep saying that?’ I ask, irritated. As the three of them stare at me, as though I were a condemned woman about to eat her last meal, something in my head just tells me to prove to them that I am perfectly capable of eating this. I don’t know if it’s misplaced feminism, this girl flirting with Danny, being all cool and into saturated fat and shit, or the fact this non-policeman is standing next to me, making me pick things up off the ground like it’s going to be out of my comfort zone…but I’m going to eat it. I’m going to cast aside the fact that I know nothing of its nutritional content (other than the fact it’s bad), the fact that this place doesn’t have a postcode (AKA someone to be held accountable if it kills me) and the disgusting fact that the bird who made it is fidgeting with her lip ring and I’m going to eat it – this double cheeseburger, in a glazed doughnut, served in a polystyrene tray that is already swimming in grease. I’ve been known to offset a few high-calorie days with a little dodgy dieting before, but this is going to be ridiculous.

I lift the burger with both hands – because it truly takes both hands – and stare at it for a second before taking a bite, chewing and then swallowing. I open my empty mouth and showcase the insides for all to see, to show them that I am more than capable.

‘Yum,’ I lie. It’s the kind of thing that I imagine if it were done well it would taste delicious, but it’s greasy and sloppy, and yet somehow so incredibly dry at the same time. Still, I take a second bite, because I am a strong, independent woman, and I can eat (what I’d guess is) a 1500-calorie burger for breakfast if I want to.

‘No more littering,’ the officer warns me, before heading back towards his car.

‘I fucking hate guys like that,’ Danny says. ‘Absolutely drunk with power.’

‘Do you think maybe you have a problem with authority?’ I ask him.

‘Fuck off.’ He laughs. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, the run-in with the police yesterday, now this… You don’t do well with it.’

Danny pauses for a second, giving my point a moment’s thought.

‘Nope,’ he concludes. ‘Those coppers yesterday were fine – I was off my tits.’ He laughs. ‘I was rude to them too. They were just doing their job. But this guy, oh, this guy… He has no right to be a dick to you. I hate to see men being dicks to women.’

I watch Danny watching the officer getting back in his car, carefully buckling up his seat belt and checking his mirrors before he starts his engine. I can tell from the thoughtful look on Danny’s face that the cogs are turning, and this worries me. Danny is a loose cannon who lives in the moment. He doesn’t give his actions a second thought; he just does what he does and that’s that, the consequences be damned. For his entire adult life, he has done whatever he wanted, with no one to call him out on his bad behaviour. If he makes a mess of things he simply packs his bags and moves on. No big deal – apparently.

I don’t have long to worry about what Danny might do before he picks up the enormous burger in one hand, brandishing it ready to throw it. I open my mouth immediately to tell him not to throw it, but it has left his hand before the first word has left my lips. As the burger flies through the air, life feels like it is happening in slow motion. I hold my breath for what feels like the longest time as I watch the burger soar, praying that the car will be just that little bit too far away for a nerd to reach with a throw – of course, most nerds don’t have guns like Danny does.

Splat! The burger hits the officer’s windscreen, erupting with such a force that grease, cheese and whatever that pinky-coloured sauce is coats the glass, completely obstructing his view. Of course, he’s most likely in no doubt over who threw it. From the moment of impact everything speeds up again, and I feel myself exhale hard.

‘Run,’ Danny shouts, his brain catching up with his actions. We both run for the Love Bug. Danny gets there first – because he isn’t doing this in five-inch heels (well, I didn’t realise I’d be dashing for a getaway vehicle today) – but he has to wait for me to get in first, because that’s the only door that works.

‘Come on, come on,’ he shouts. ‘I have previous.’

‘Of course you have fucking previous, you’re a menace,’ I snap, clambering over the seat.

Thankfully the officer’s window is too filthy for him to safely drive after us, and by the time he is out of his car and on his way over to us, Danny is speeding away, flipping him off and beeping his horn as he leaves him in his dust.

As we fly along the road, Danny makes victorious woo-ing noises.

‘We showed him, huh?’ He cackles.

I roll my eyes as Danny blows his horn and bursts into a lyrically questionable version of ‘I Fought the Law’.

I feel a wave of sickness wash over me suddenly.

‘Can you slow down, please?’ I ask.

‘No, he might catch up with us. Just let me turn off so he can’t find us. Anyway, I’m hardly speeding.’

‘That’s because your crappy car hardly can speed,’ I snap. ‘It’s not that. I feel sick.’

I watch the colour drain from Danny’s face, but soon realise that it’s not out of concern for me.

‘Don’t be sick in my car,’ he panics. ‘I’ll pull over.’

‘It’s fine, just get us to safety.’

‘I’d rather be arrested than have a car full of vomit,’ he says seriously, pulling over and hurrying out of the car so that I can get out.

I bend over the bonnet of the car, resting my head on my forearms.

‘There’s a sight I’m used to,’ Danny jokes, but I feel too ill to tell him to ‘piss off’, let alone laugh it off.

‘I’m going to be sick,’ I announce, moments before throwing up all over the Love Bug.

‘Not on the…car,’ Danny says redundantly.

I feel dreadful as a cold shiver washes over my body, but I know how much Danny loves his car and I feel bad.

‘Sorry,’ I say quietly, my teeth bizarrely chattering.

‘Hey, don’t apologise,’ Danny says, rubbing my shoulder. ‘It’s karma, isn’t it? I mess up someone else’s car; I get my car messed up. Don’t worry.’

Whether or not Danny is upset about me throwing up on his car, he does a brilliant job of acting like he doesn’t care. I still feel bad though.

‘I’ll clean it,’ I insist, widening my eyes to try and force myself to feel less dopey.

‘Don’t be daft, get in the car,’ he insists. ‘Have a nap. We’re not that far from York. I’ll take it nice and easy and wake you when we get there.’

‘Thank you,’ I tell him, climbing back into my seat and snuggling up.

‘Maybe hold this bag, just in case,’ he adds, pushing a plastic bag into my hand. So I imagine being sick on the inside of his car is still a no-no, then.

Chapter 25

I wake up flat on my back, with my hand over my mouth as though I were trying to keep the vomit inside by any means necessary.

For a moment, I breathe as gently as possible, terrified any sudden movements will make me sick again. Then, as I run my hands down my body, I realise that I’m not wearing any clothes. I sit up and take in my surroundings and realise that I’m in a room that I don’t recognise, in a bed that I’ve never seen before, watching
Pointless
on TV –
Pointless
, of all things!

‘Hello,’ I call out, panicked.

I hear running water shut off before Danny rushes out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist, moving his laptop off the bed next to me so that he can sit down.