I rub her back. “Me too, Mum, me too.”
It’s ten past eight and Joshua hasn’t arrived. I’m starting to panic. I have been ready since seven. I stand at my front window looking up the street. Where are you baby? Please come. Then I see the four-car procession pull around the corner and I practically jump for joy. He’s here. I quickly pour myself a glass of wine to calm my nerves. This is it, our whole future rests on me and how I handle this tonight. I don’t know why I thought he would just take me back, but I did. He’s not going to. I just know it.
Knock, knock.
I smile as I open the door. “Use your key. You don’t need to knock.”
“Hi.” He l
ooks around nervously and I see him catch sight of the framed photos I have of him on my sideboard. He frowns. “You ready?”
I stand back from the door. “Come in.” I gesture with my hand to the lounge room. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask. I need to drag this night out as long as I can.
He smiles and nods. “Yes please, how are you feeling?” He gestures to my drink.
I cringe with embarrassment as my cheeks turn red. “Was I appalling last night?”
He laughs. “Yes, totally.” He nods to accentuate his point.
I put my face in my hands. “Can’t you be a gentleman and tell me I wasn’t that drunk?”
He laughs out loud. “No, I have never seen you so drunk. It was very entertaining. You even let me in on a few of your sordid secrets.”
My eyes widen. “Like what?” I pour the wine into his glass as he holds it.
“Like the massage yesterday,” he sneers.
My eyes flick up to meet his. Oh shit, me and my big mouth. Why in the hell would I tell him that? I’m mortified knowing it myself.
I close my eyes as shame rips through me. When I open them Joshua is glaring at me.
“Why in the hell would you let some sleazy masseur touch you?” he snaps.
“Why do you let cheap strippers and whores touch you?” I stammer.
He narrows his eyes. “That’s different,” he snaps.
I frown. “No it’s not. I know you went to the VIP room on Friday night. I think you said that you needed to get laid, to be exact.”
He puts his hand on his hip. “Well I didn’t. So stop it.”
“Joshua, you brought this up, not me.”
“Did you orgasm?” he snaps.
I cringe again. “Ready to go?” I need to change the bloody subject so I gesture to the door.
“No, we are not going anywhere until you tell me what that masseur did to you.”
I start to twist my fingers in front of me in shame. “We went and had pedicures and manicures and waxing … what you like.” I’m talking way too fast and nervously. “You know how you like me smooth.” I smile and widen my eyes at him to try and be cute. It doesn’t work and he continues to glare at me blankly.
“And,” he snaps.
“And Abbie has this massage place she goes to once a month and she made appointments for us. Didge and I thought it was just regular massage and then when we got there I had this masseur and,”
“Antonio,” he says deadpan.
Oh shit, I even told him his name. I need to wear a muzzle when I’m drunk in public in future—this is appalling.