For Jodie & Emily
Jimmy Davis is a womanizer #stayaway
Hung out with JD tonight #epicfail
I hate Jimmy “JD” Davis #lifelesson
4225 West’s JD is so freaking hot #inlove
Call me, Jimmy #cantwaitfornextime
I hate Twitter. It’s the worst thing ever invented. It’s an avenue for women to slag me off every chance they get and believe me, they’re relentless. I can’t quite figure out why they like to air their dirty laundry all over the Internet. Don’t they realise that millions of people see what they tweet and judge them on those 140 characters? Probably not, is my guess. They’re just adding fuel to fire for the next girl who wants a bit of Jimmy “JD” Davis so she can brag to her friends.
Right now, there’s only one girl I want a taste of, but she’s not here, nor is she tweeting about our night together. I should take that as a sign that she’s not interested, but I don’t. It makes me want to have my wicked way with her again, show her exactly what I’m all about. If I didn’t leave her begging for more, then my game wasn’t up to par.
I sigh heavily and turn away from the door back to the bar. The girl serving my drink winks at me, obviously thinking I’m interested because I’m looking in her direction. Sadly for her, she couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t piss where I eat. The reason I’ve sworn off relationships has just walked into the bar. I can ignore her, but she won’t ignore me. She likes to tease me, tempt me. She plays her game to remind me that she left me when I thought things were perfect.
I put my phone away and study my beer bottle. It’s fascinating that the dark brown glass holding the amber liquid numbs my problems. I pick at the label in a failed attempt to look busy. I’m the prey right now, being hunted by the feminine wiles of two women. One, I’d take in a heartbeat, just to show her what she’s been missing. With the other one, I’d have to be really drunk. I like this bar. A lot. I don’t want to make the mistake of shitting on my own doorstep.
“Hello, Jimmy.”
I close my eyes at the sound of her voice. She finds me every year on this date without fail. I know it well; it’s our anniversary. So many things happened on this day. I thought I was smooth – always doing something special on the date we started going out. For the first year, I proposed. I slipped a three-carat diamond on her ring finger. The second year, after I signed my contract with 4225 West and we became famous, I bought her a house. On the third year, I caught her in our bed with another man. Well, actually it was two men, but the shock and hurt wasn’t any different. She destroyed me. Coincidentally, each event happened on the same day, our anniversary. Each year, for three years she gave me a memory I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try. God I love that day.
Chelsea Spencer sits down next to me. Her name alone screams money. I give her the once over, starting at her shoes, which are no doubt by some new designer I’ve never heard of; and work my way up her long, toned legs. I have every inch of them memorised, even when I’ve repeatedly tried to forget what they feel like wrapped around me. She’s wearing a black and white dress and her hair is styled to perfection. She’s a real life Barbie doll. Everything about her is refined. That should’ve been my first warning sign when we started seeing each other. Her parents hated me, but she wanted to show them she could make her own decisions and started dating the wannabe rock star. Even with my famous father and grandfather I wasn’t good enough for her.
“Well, if it isn’t my beautiful ex. Tell me, sweetheart, to what do I owe the pleasure? I’m guessing it’s no coincidence that you’re here on our anniversary? Time flies when I’m not thinking about how you tore my heart out and trampled on it repeatedly.”
“Dramatic much, Jimmy?”
I shrug. “Just keeping it real, love.”
Chelsea never shows emotion, at least not anymore. When we were together I made her laugh every day. Her mum told her that laughing would cause wrinkles and I told her I’d kiss each one away. Now she’s some straight-laced piece of totty who only smiles when she’s paid a compliment. It’s a pity really because she’s so beautiful when she laughs.
She orders a white wine spritzer. I try not to laugh at how stuck-up she’s become since we broke up. When we were together she was a beer drinker. It’s funny how things change people.
“How’s your business doing?”
“What business would that be, Jimmy?”
I knock back my beer and slam the bottle down hard on the bar. I signal for another and gain a wink in return. Too bad she’s barking up the wrong tree.
“The escort service.” I try to stifle my laugh, but to no avail. Chelsea slaps me across my arm. It stings, but I don’t show it. I can’t let her know that she still affects me in any way.
“You’re such an imbecile, you know that?”
“Yet, here you sit next to me trying to catch my attention with your legs. Is this your way of showing me what’s on offer, because I have news for you, Chelsea, I ain’t buying it. So what do you want?”