Bang Gang (14 page)

She was gone before I could argue.

I tore open the parcel with less care than I should’ve considering my recent investment in false nails, and let out a gasp as the items tumbled free. Underwear. Raunchy underwear. I held up the suspenders, looked at the posing woman on the front and tried to imagine me in her place. It made me laugh out loud.

I sent Tonya a text.
I love you, but you are a very bad influence.

Use them!
She sent back
. Book yourself in for a bloody Bang Gang before Mandy poxy Taylor takes all the slots!! Live a little!!

Live a little… I’m not sure a five-man fuck-fest counted as living
a little
, even if it was on my bucket list.

I pulled myself up.
Since when has it been on my bucket list?

But I knew since when. Since bloody tuxedo night. My bloody bodywand hadn’t known the meaning of overworked until I saw those guys dressed in their finest.
And Trent out of it.

I called to Nanna that I was heading upstairs for a bit, and it mattered little to her since she was busy reading the Saturday Fashion pull-out. I crept away with the raunchy haul in my arms and examined the stash on the bed.

Some of it was elegant and tasteful. Some of it was drop-dead gorgeous – all lace and rich colour and fine styling. Some of it made me burn up at the thought – stockings, suspenders and… oh my life, a pair of crotchless red knickers to go with them. I held up a babydoll in floaty white – beautiful but so…
sexy
.

I took down my jeans and pulled my top off over my head, my underwear went next, and I took a breath as I looked at myself in the mirror. My flabby bits looked a lot less glorious in the morning sun than they did under lamplight. But so what?

I tried on the babydoll and pulled up the matching thong and my mind was made up.

I could actually get away with this…

I may be no supermodel, but the drape of the fabric hid my wobbly tummy, and the push-up bra did what it was supposed to. The thong was high on my hips and made my legs look longer than they were. I put my hand on my waist and turned, shot myself my sexiest look.

Fucking hell, maybe… just maybe…

I did another twirl and imagined Trent in the room. Would he look at me the way he used to? The way he did when I was still young and firm and desperate for his dick at every opportunity?

What about Buck? Hugh? Jimmy O? Would they want a piece of this? Would this be up to
standard? Standard enough for young Petey, who’s probably more used to girls his own age..?

I shuddered at the thought.

And should’ve stopped thinking about it altogether, but I couldn’t.

I tried on the suspender belt and the crotchless knickers
–
Sweet Jesus!
–
then slipped on the racy little bra that went along with them. They complimented my new hair
perfectly. One for the win.
I just needed…

I reached into the wardrobe and tugged out a dusty box from the back. The cardboard was all battered but the shoes inside weren’t. I stepped into the ridiculously high black heels and did another twirl and it looked awesome, like I’d never stopped wearing them.

Shit. Maybe I could really do this…

Maybe I really could be sexy again…

Maybe, just maybe…

I snapped a crazy impromptu selfie, complete with pout, and sent it off to Tonya before I could change my mind. She called in a heartbeat.

“You look fucking incredible, Jo! Oh my God, you look amazing!”

I laughed. “Maybe I’m not quite past it yet.”

“Like hell you’re past it!” She paused. “So… you going to go in for the Mandy Taylor special? Since the rest of the village is doing it, why not?”

The thought of the school-mums getting down and dirty in Darren’s garage gave me weird shivers.

“Will you ever let it up?” I sighed. “I couldn’t…”

“Why?”

“Because… Darren… because of what we were… because I’m…”

“Scared?” she finished. “Christ, Jo, everyone is going to have the shits before they do something like this, and Trent’s Trent. It was a long fucking time ago. He does this shit for a living, he’s not going to get all fucking freaked out, is he? He’d probably do Nanna and not even break a sweat.”

I cringed. “Jeez, Tonya. Too much.”

She laughed. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

Maybe she had a point. Not about Nanna, but about Trent being so mercenary about all this. I sighed, sat on the edge of the bed.

I heard her rustle about, flick the kettle on. “Answer me this. Is it over, really? Between you and Darren, I mean?”

My answer was instant. “Yes. Totally yes.” And it
was
over. We’d tried and tried before we called time, and that was years ago. Neither of us had made a move since, neither of us even hinted at it. Once upon a time I’d secretly hoped he’d turn all Casanova and howl at the moon outside my window, profess his undying devotion and climb up my hair to my bed, but of course he hadn’t.

He was with Stacey long before I ever contemplated getting with Brian, and they got pretty serious pretty damn quick. She’d even earned an engagement ring by all accounts, she’d gushed right the way around the village about it – and he’d never got that far with us, not even in all those years, which says a lot.

He was definitely over it. Long over me.

He wouldn’t even break a sweat.

“So?” Tonya prompted. “You need to get laid, and there’s a fantasy right there on offer. You’re over Trent, yes? Talk about kicking off your new lease of life in style. Back in the game with a boom!”

Was I over Trent?
Yes. Yes, I was. Definitely.

“I’m going now,” I said. “Before you talk me into something I shouldn’t even be thinking about.”

“So you
are
thinking about it?” Her laugh was infectious. “Go. Get the bodywand out, weigh it up a little.”

I did just that.

The weather was a piece of shit, so I took the girls back to mine. Mia was on usual form, disappearing off into their room to catch up with Daisy on Skype. She was never off the thing. There was only one thing Ruby was rooting for, I could read her a mile off. She sat herself on the sofa and stared at the blank TV with a grin on her face.

“Top Gear?” I said, and she punched the air.

I fired up the re-runs and put the kettle on, delivered Mia a cup of tea to her room before I settled down on the sofa with Ruby. She sat like I did, a foot casually tossed over her knee, her mug in one hand, fingers splayed just like mine. It made me smile.

We made the same scoffing sounds in the same places, ridiculed the driving in the same places, and nodded in appreciation in the exact same places. Genetics, or learned, I didn’t know and didn’t care. I ruffled her hair and she smiled her toothy grin up at me and it gave me that warm feeling inside.

“I’ll be nipping to the yard later, thought maybe I’d let you and Mia have a practice in the truck.”

Ruby’s eyes were like saucers. “Driving?! Really?!”

“
Half
driving, nothing crazy. Don’t want your mum freaking out, do we?”

She shook her head, smiling from ear to ear.

I gestured to the rain outside the window. “Just wait until this crap passes, it’s supposed to brighten up later.”

We turned our attention back to the
TV, and Clarkson took a flash Audi convertible for a spin through some mountain tracks. I watched Ruby’s face as he took the winding roads at speed, the starkness of the landscape looking really fucking awesome. She was absolutely transfixed.

“What do you make of that?” I asked.

“Cool,” she said. “Epic cool.”

They did the round-up of the car, bigging up its awesome handling, the flashiness of the optional extras. Then they called it
a chick magnet
.
A sure-fire way to land the ladies
.

Ruby pulled a face, stared up at me with eyes full of questions.

“What?” I said.

She paused, just stared. “Is that what your truck is?” she said. “A
chick magnet
? Is that why all the ladies want to…”

I raised an eyebrow. “Want to what?” She shook her head, but I called her on it. “Come on, Rubes. Spit it out.”

She shrugged. “Mia told me not to say anything.”

“And I’m telling you to spit it out.”

“It’s the kids at school,” she began. “They say you like… they say you’re a
gigolo.
What’s a
gigolo,
Dad? Are you really one?”

Shit. My stomach dropped.

“What do you think a gigolo is, Rubes?”

She shrugged again. “I think it means kissing, like kissing lots of people…” She stared at her mug. “And the other stuff… the icky stuff… more than kissing…”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

She sipped her tea. “They say you’re doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village.” Finally, she looked at me. “Are you doing that, Dad? Are you doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village?”

I opted for honesty. I find it’s usually the best way. Well, honesty within reason – she’s eight-years old.

“No,” I said. “I’m not doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village. I made a mistake and may have done some icky stuff with one of them, because I’m a stupid prick sometimes. I’m sorry about that, Rubes.”

She pulled a face. “Mandy Taylor.”

Shit. Playground gossip knew no fucking bounds.

“I’m not doing any icky stuff with ladies in the village, Rubes, especially not Mandy Taylor. Not even any kissing.”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, and held up her little finger. “I don’t like Mandy Taylor. She smiles
funny and I don’t like the way she laughs. I don’t want her to be my step-mum.”

Jesus! I hooked her finger with mine. “Pinky promise, Ruby. No women in the village, and Mandy Taylor will
never ever
be your step-mum.”

I thought that might be the end of it, but
blue eyes stared into mine, her smile dulling just a little. “If you want to kiss people and all that other stuff, why don’t you kiss Mum? She looks really pretty now with her new hair and everything,
and
she has nice clothes! She looks like a princess!”

Awkward question of the year award goes to Ruby Trent.

“Your mum is very beautiful, Rubes, whether she’s got new hair and nice clothes or not. She always looks like a princess. But we’re just friends.”

Her face dropped and I felt it, it fucking hurt.

“But just-friends could kiss each other couldn’t they? If they both wanted to? If she looks like a princess then why don’t you want to kiss her?”

I sighed. “Oh, Rubes, it’s not that simple. Adult stuff isn’t ever that simple.”

She looked away from me, back at the TV.

I tried to make light of it. “Your mum wouldn’t even want to kiss me, Rubes. Princesses only kiss frogs in fairy tales, not in real life.”

She laughed at that. “You’re not a frog!”