High (13 page)

“I’m starving!” I whine, hanging my head back off the edge of the bed.

Rhett’s feet come into view and I roll onto my front, watching as he fastens a cuff link. “I’ll feed you and take you home, but I have to make a stop on the way.”

“What kind of stop?”

“I have to go and see a building, and seeing as you’ve made me late…”

I laugh. “Oh yeah, uh huh. I distinctly remember tying you up and forcing you to fuck me.”

He grabs my hair and yanks until I flop onto my back, and then he gives me a Spiderman kiss, nipping my lip before he pulls away. “You got your tits out. It’s the same thing.”

Damn butterflies.

Breakfast turns out to be a muffin and a coffee from the coffee shop because, you know, I made him late.

I sit in the front of his car, skipping through radio stations and trying to find a good song. He taps his finger on the steering wheel and I smile to myself because I know I’m pissing him off. Eventually, I get some Taylor Swift and stop, turning it up.

He puts up with it for about three seconds before he turns it off.

“Do you know how long it took me to find a good song?” I ask.

He turns a blank stare on me. “Yes. I’m fucking aware of the hundred fucking radio stations you skipped through to find that shit.”

“Hey, I like Taylor. She’s my girl crush.”

He glances at me. “Really? Of all the hot women out there, you choose the girl next door wannabe?”

“Hey, crushes are not open to judgment. But now we’re here…who would your guy crush be?” I smile, biting down on my bottom lip.

“I like girls.” He says flatly, making me grin.

“Uh-huh, but you have to have male appreciation. If a guy doesn’t have male appreciation, then I assume he has gay tendencies, because he’s clearly not at ease with his sexuality.”

He focuses on the windscreen, even though we’re not moving. “Nice try.”

“Damn, and I so thought it was going to be Tom Hardy. That would have been a lifetime’s worth of spank bank material.”

He turns and looks at me, a frown on his face. “I worry about you.”

I laugh. “Oh, don’t be grumpy just because I fantasized about Tom Hardy ploughing you.” I didn’t, it would totally be Rhett ploughing Tom, but eh, semantics.

He presses a button on the radio, and cranks it up until hard core rock blares around the car, drowning out my laughter.

The car inches forward through the traffic, and I find myself studying Rhett, because yes, I’m a pervert. He releases his seat belt and leans forward, shrugging out of his jacket. You know the Diet Coke adverts, where they slow motion a hot guy getting all sprayed with Coke and then taking his shirt off, abs glistening, birds singing, a fucking choir in the background…Well, that’s kind of what’s happening in my mind as he takes his jacket off and the muscles of his arms strain against his shirt. He puts a pair of Ray Ban’s on and drags a hand through his hair, and fucking hell, me and my vagina might need to have a quick pep talk. You gotta hold this shit together girl, you can make it.

This is going to be a long day.

“This place is a shit hole.”

The estate agent looks embarrassed, but it’s okay because it matches her scarlet red cheeks which she’s had ever since Rhett shook her hand. Poor woman.

Rhett stands in front of the window, his back to me as he admires the view of the council estate. I step up next to him. “Oh look, there’s your car…on fire.”

I turn and lean my back against the glass, and he smirks, slowly shifting his gaze to me. “I buy property that will make me money, not property I want to live in.”

“Oh good, because I think I caught hepatitis when I walked in.” There are actually needles outside this place. Jesus, there was me picturing Rhett buying fancy hotels. Still, if it makes money…

His lips twitch and he shakes his head as he walks away. He follows the estate agent to the kitchen in the corner of the room. She lays some papers on the work top and he braces his elbows on the side, studying them.

I get bored after about thirty seconds, so I call Felix. I haven’t spoken to him in what feels like forever. He’s all grown up with his club…and strippers…and drugs. Okay, so he’s allowed to call it grown up because technically it’s a business. I need one of those ‘businesses’.

“Hey, B.”

“Hey. How are you? Please tell me your getting a lap dance off a hooker and snorting a line off her tits? I need some excitement.” The estate agent makes a small choking sound, before clearing her throat a couple of times. The poor woman doesn’t know where to look. Actually, that’s a lie, and I laugh when I catch her staring at Rhett’s arse.

“No.” Felix says. “I’m doing paperwork sadly.”

“You’re ruining my fantasy.”

“Sorry. You’re welcome to partake in my stead.” He offers.

“Ugh! I can’t, I’m…actually, I don’t even know where I am. Tooting, I think.”

“Tooting?” He spits the word like it’s offensive.

“Believe me, I know. I’m with Rhett. Apparently his interests now include purchasing crack dens and HIV risks.”

“Who knew? I take it that means you got home okay?”

“Yeah, he did the white knight thing.” I hear a voice in the background.

“Shit. Babe, I have to go, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.” I shove my phone back in my bra.

“You ready to go?” I look up and Rhett is standing in front of me with some papers in his hand. Well, that was quicker than I thought it would be.

“Yep.”

I promised Felix and Milly a night out because I’ve been keeping a low profile. Okay, that’s a fucking lie, I’ve been with Rhett, trying to fuck him out of my system. I think it’s made it worse. The more I fuck him, the more I
want
to fuck him. A drug, he’s like a fucking drug, and I’m a hopeless addict.

I could pretend that it’s still just to piss my father off, but honestly, we’ve done all we can on that front. Every time we go anywhere together, members of the press are there. The gossip columns have been at it all week. As far as the outside world is concerned, there is no way I’m
not
dating Rhett Torres.

He’s been at my place for the last two nights, and honestly, my vagina needs a fucking rest. That man is ruining me. So, I’ve traded up for Felix and a different kind of good time.

I hold onto Felix’s arm as we walk into Sparkle. Shit name. Good club. It has these big pillars filled with glittery water and multi-coloured lights. Trust me, a few pills and it’s the absolute shit. I love this place. It’s like a unicorn walked into a rave and threw up.

Felix waves at someone as soon as we walk in, so I go to the bar and leave him to his socializing. I can’t take him anywhere because he knows fucking everyone.

I lean on the end of the bar, waiting for Todd, one of the barmen. He spots me and smiles as he serves a guy his beers. As soon as he’s free he comes over. Todd is not your stereotypical drug dealer. He has bright red hair and a splash of freckles across his nose that make him look so sweet and innocent, but, let’s just say that the only reason Todd works behind the bar is because his uncle runs the place and it’s easy access. From back there he makes thousands a night.

“Blake. How are ya?”

“Good thanks. You?”

He shrugs and nods. “You want your usual?”

“Please.” I hand him a twenty and he sets to making the drink. He has a nightly special, but for me, he always makes the same thing. A martini with kick—a little bit of ecstasy and mandy. He calls it ‘The Blake’. That’s right bitches, I got a fucking drink named after me, and let me tell you, it’s the good shit.

He places the drink on the bar and I take a sip, watching the last fizz of the pills in the bottom. I do love a Martini.

I neck it in a few gulps and turn away from the bar, searching for Milly. I know she’s here somewhere with one of her artsy guys. It doesn’t take long to find her. She’s in the middle of a group of guys and they’re all looking at her like they want to eat her. I guess she dropped the art dude. She tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder as she dances, trailing her hand over her chest. And…she’s already had one of Todd’s cocktails. I move through the dance floor, and push into the group of guys, sliding up behind her. She leans back against me, giggling.

“Blake. It’s so colourful.” Damn it, todays special must be acid. Fun, but not Milly’s forte. She once spent two hours standing in the middle of a club on her jacket because apparently the floor was water and the sharks were going to get her.

“Yeah, pretty. Now come on, let’s go dance.” I drag her away from the guys and we dance on our own. I have no idea where the fuck Felix went. The drink is starting to kick in now, and it hits me in a gradual wave, forcing my heart to pound against my ribs erratically. 

My body moves with the music of its own violation. It’s like instinct, non-conscious. I smile as the blissful euphoria washes over me, lifting me, making me feel invincible. I feel sexy and confident and free.

I lift my hair off my neck as I feel a bead of sweat roll down my nape. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been dancing, but when I glance down, I realize I’ve taken my shoes off. There’s a cut on my foot where I guess I stepped on some glass, but I don’t care.

I want another drink, and then I want to party until I can’t even remember my own name.

Meow.

What the hell? I groan and roll over, burrowing deeper into the duvet.

Meow.

Okay, three scenarios here. One, I’m dreaming. Two, Milly drank one too many acid cocktails and thinks she’s a cat or three, I’ve finally taken one pill too many and lost my shit.

Meow.

I crack an eye open and pull the duvet back. Four, there actually
is
a cat here. The little black and white cat is staring at me, it’s face inches from mine as it kneads the pillow, purring like a little train.