The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) (6 page)

“Christ, I’m hungry now.” I harrumph because I have no food upstairs, haven’t been shopping, and don’t know what DrunkBigDick has downstairs for me to steal.

“Cunt.” Bingo. That’s my new name for Marcus. He’s a pussy. No knob and wet.

“Well, hello, cunt. Fancy seeing you again,” I act out.

The door slides open slowly, making me jump a foot.

DrunkBigDick stands in the doorway, rubbing his eye. I watch as his gaze travels up my bare legs.

“Am I still drunk or did you just speak to your vagina?” he asks. “That is after shouting out random swear words for the last ten minutes.”

I quickly pull the duvet back up over my legs. I face the window as I speak to him. “Erm, sorry. I can’t sleep.”

“So you repeat swear words rather than count sheep?”

“I was thinking of a new name for my ex-boyfriend.”

“Ah. Well, cunt’s a good one. I’ve been called that many times.”

I forget myself and look at him. “Really? Are you a horrible ex-boyfriend?”

“Nah, I never let it get that far. More fuck ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“Lovely.” I realise my eyes have dropped lower as I speak.

It’s then DrunkBigDick realises he’s come back upstairs completely naked,

“Aargh, shit. Why didn’t you tell me I’ve nothing on?” He attempts to cover his prize asset with his hand.

“You mean you’re unaware you have no clothes on? That must be really interesting when you go out anywhere.” I impersonate his gruff voice. “Fuck. I’ve forgot to put my clothes on again today. Wondered why my balls had shrunk.”

DrunkBigDick gets under the covers at the side of me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Covering myself up while we have a conversation.”

“Do you not have underpants?”

“You’d still stare at my package.”

“I’m used to large parcels. I worked at the Post Office. Gets quite boring after a while.”

“Oh, you think I’m large, do you?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Well, let’s put it this way. I don’t know your real name yet so I’ve nicknamed you DrunkBigDick.”

At that he guffaws. The bed wobbles as he laughs. “You don’t mince your words, do you, sweetheart?”

“Not anymore. I’m a new woman now. Calling it like I see it, and I saw a drunk big dick.”

“Hey.” He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You
were
referring to the size of my package, weren’t you?”

I shrug my shoulders. “You’re a bloke and you admit to being a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em guy. The name works either way.”

He holds out his hand. It’s like a giant bear paw. I stare for a few seconds then shake it with my own.

“My name’s Frazer, though I’m happy for you to call me BigDick. However, I’m no longer drunk. In fact, I’m now very sober.”

“Frazer. Hmmm, suits you.”

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He folds his own arms across his sizeable chest and waits.

“Guess.”

“What?”

“Guess my name.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I can’t get to sleep because you first crash drunkenly into my room and then you come up and get in my bed and start yabbering on. If you’re going to annoy me then I might as well have some fun. So. Guess. My. Name.”

“That’s not fun. It’s fucking boring.”

“Look. I nicknamed you DrunkBigDick. You must have thought of something when you burst in.”

“Yeah. I thought
who the fuck is in my bed
?”

“After that. Once we realised we were sharing the house tonight.”

“I’m not telling you.”

What’s that I see? A hint of a blush on his cheeks? Macho man gets embarrassed?

“What did you call me?”

He huffs out a large breath and mumbles, “Goldilocks.”

“What?” I snigger. Am I hearing things?

“You heard me. Goldilocks,” he shouts. “’Cos you were sleeping in my bed and you have all this curly blonde hair shit going on.” He touches my hair.

“Get off me. Stay over there,” I tell him. “Your dick fell onto the bedding at my side then when you leaned over. Keep it away from me.”

“That’s not what women usually say to me.”

“Well, I’m saying it now.” My stomach rumbles again. “Is there any food in the house?”

“Well, I have food. You, however, don’t have any, so if you want to eat some of mine you’d better tell me your name.”

“Fine. It’s Daisy.”

“Daisy. Like the flower?”

“What else could Daisy be for? It’s not short for days of the week. Jesus.”

“Christ, you’re short-tempered.”

“I’m tired and hungry.”

“I’ve eggs, bacon, bread and a few other bits in the fridge. You’re welcome to use anything I have in. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You let me kip in this bed tonight. I’ll put some pants on.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“God, whatever you’re thinking, unthink it right now. What I meant is I’m going to get something to eat and then I’ll try and crash on the sofa. For tonight only. Tomorrow that bed is mine.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I don’t have the strength to argue with you anymore right now. I’m going to make some food.” I swing my legs out of bed.

“You have really good legs. Nice thighs,” says Frazer.

“Oh my God. You’re unbelievable. Do you know that?”

“I have been told similar.” With that Frazer puts his arms behind his head and closes his eyes.

I walk out of the room, about to head downstairs, but not before I give the door a good slam.

I hear a loud, “Ow, fucking hell! My head!” Followed by, “Oh my God, I’m bleeding.”

I return to the bedroom and switch on the light. There must be a hundred watt bulb in it because the light burns my retinas. Frazer flinches and puts his hand over his eyes. “Fuck, the light. Turn off the light. God, I’m blind now.”

“What a drama queen. What’s wrong with you?” It’s then I notice the small picture frame on the bed. I look up and see an empty hook.

“I might fucking sue you. You slammed the door and the picture fell off and whacked me straight on the top of the head. You’ve cut me.”

“What a cry baby. Let me have a look.”

He leans his head forward and I part his hair. “Where does it hurt?”

He points with his finger.

“It’s the smallest cut ever, Frazer, but I am sorry.”

“I’m not your ex, you know? No need to take your pent up frustration out on me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Not that kind of pent up frustration, anyway.”

“Now might be a good time to quit while you’re ahead.”

“It hurts here too.” He points to another part of his head.

“I can’t see anything.”

“And here.”

I check all of his head.

“Frazer, there’s nothing there and the frame is only small. It can’t have hit you all over your head.”

It’s then I realise that his leant over head is directly in line to stare at my breasts. Frazer can see right down my top.

I smack him in the head.

“Oh my God! Fuck! That’s where it hurts, you cow.”

“Moo,” I say and I walk out of the room, slamming the door again.

Chapter Nine

Daisy

As it’s only four am, I settle on a couple of slices of toast and a nice cup of tea. I wash the dirty pots as payment for my food and teabag. Morning has broken and the birds are chirping a dawn chorus. I pull the curtains open and gaze outside. The front of the property faces the dirt track and lots of trees, making the area where the sofa is quite dark. I instead take a seat at the dining table that faces a window at the rear of the property. Through this window I see a fenced off good piece of land; must be an acre or so. It’s neatly cut, suggesting that someone pops over to keep it all tidy, despite what Sam says about no-one coming down here. At the bottom of the garden is what looks like an old horse stable. I bet this place could be converted into an amazing property, although something in its quaintness makes you want to keep it small.
Steady on there, Daisy
, I tell myself.
You’re only here for a couple of weeks.
Still, I decide, once Frazer is up and hopefully out of the way, I’m going to swap around the dining table and the sofa, because I intend to spend a lot of time here with my kindle in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

As I gaze around the room, I see it’s in need of a general lick of paint. That’s it! That’s how I’ll pay Mrs H back for the hospitality. I’ll freshen the place up. I’ve always been a dab hand with a paintbrush. I decorated all of our -
Marcus’
- home. Oh, to be back there now with a paint and wallpaper stripper. I’d take every bit off the walls and doors.

The sofa is amazingly comfy and I plump up a couple of cushions and rest my head on them. Before I know it, I’m asleep.

A clink of a cup jerks me awake, followed by a, “Shh, you fucker.”

I stare at Frazer who is standing at the kitchenette sink. “Sorry. I tried to be quiet, but it’s really difficult with the sofa being so close to the kitchen.”

“It’s fine. What time is it?”

“Nine. Do you want a cup of tea?”

I raise myself up on the sofa. “I’d love one.”

He makes us a brew and then he comes to sit beside me on the sofa.

“So what are we going to do about the fact there are two of us and one bedroom?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Shall I ring your mother?”

“No!” he shouts, then winces at the pitch of his own voice. “Sorry. I just don’t want her to know I’m here.”

I bite on my lip, considering. “I’ll tell you what. You give me a rundown on your history with Mrs H and I’ll consider your stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you convince me of why a) I shouldn’t tell her and b) why you should remain here rent free, then I have a proposition for you.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. You move. I was here first.”

“Fine. Hang on while I call Mrs H.”

“Okay,” he snaps. “You win. God, you’re an annoying twatwaffle.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“I learned it from you last night. Could have been worse, I could have called you a c-.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right, I’m all ears.”

“You sure you don’t have something else to do with your day?”

“Nope. I seem to have all the time in the world. What about you? Don’t you work?”

“Shit.” He jumps up. “What time did I say it was again?”

“Nine.”

He plops back down. “Oh, that’s alright then. Only I’ve got a new job at the pub and I have to be there for ten-thirty.”

“So you’re a barman? Temporarily?”

“I’m an actor.” He says it posh, like ac-torr.

“Really?” I wonder how many famous people he knows and whether he can put me in touch with any of the Hemsworth brothers. I’m not fussed as to which… or maybe all three; don’t want to leave the non-acting one out.

“Yes. I’ve come here to try and get a part in the production they’re filming here. Tilly, the director, is an old friend of mine.”

“Tilly Kendrick? Tilly Kendrick is here? Oh my God she’s one of my girl crushes. She’s always in my magazines. I love her. Flipping ‘eck, when they said they were filming here yesterday I thought they meant something like Pride and Prejudice. Is it that transgender film?”

“
All is Not Lost
. Yes.”

“Is Joe Foster here?” I ask cautiously.

“Yes.”

I scream. A large, ear-piercing, I-have-gone-back-to-being-thirteen-years-old screech.

“What is it?” Frazer’s gaze is one of concern. “Is it a spider? Here, I’ll get it for you.” He reaches beyond me and starts molesting me while he shakes out the cushions.

I smack him on the top of the head.

“What the fuck did you do that for? You know my head’s injured. I bet I’ve got concussion thanks to you.”

“There’s no spider. Back off, Spiderman. If there was, I’m not scared of them, anyway. Now wasps, that’s different.”

“So why did you scream?” Frazer looks around us.

“Because Joe Foster is here.”

“Seriously? That hysterical sound is because Joe is here? How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” I mutter.

“Dear God. Women.” He rubs his eyebrow.

“Bet you wouldn’t be dissing me if I’d screamed like that over your name.”

“Depends where you were. In a crowd or in my bed.”

Our eyes meet and the temperature seems to go up. Suddenly he’s too near. “Does the shower work okay?”