The Playbook

“So what happened when you woke up?” I ask.

“He gave me a kiss on the lips and a slap on the arse, handed me a fifty and pointed to the door.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I mean, forget the fact that I felt used, being treated like some dirty hooker, but fifty dollars?” She looks down at the table with tears in her eyes, holding her now empty glass. I stretch my arm over the table to her hand and hold it tightly.

“Leave it to me,” I assure her. “When I’m done with him, he’ll think twice about doing the same thing. And if he did take pictures, that’s a crime. You really should think about contacting the police.”

“I’ll think about it,” she says, her tone doubtful. I nod, already knowing she isn’t going to listen to my advice.

After l leave Sandy I head straight back home and begin drafting my next blog piece on Matt. This is one asshole who needs to be outed and a quick search puts me in contact with several women who claim to have been treated poorly by the guy. After spending half the night on the phone backing up my sources, I’m nearly done. Yawning, I stretch out my arms behind my head. I’m exhausted, and I haven’t even started the work I should have been doing for my paid job.

Hovering my mouse over the submit button, I feel a sudden pang of guilt, but it’s short lived when I remember what he’s done. Someone needs to teach these guys a lesson and it looks like it’s up to me. I hit upload and pour myself a glass of wine as I sit back in my chair. Now the wait for hits begins.

After a glorious hour long soak in the tub, I decide that I can't be bothered cooking. Since I’ve already got my pj’s on, I pick up my mobile to order takeout, but just as I'm about to dial the number, my phone rings.

“I'm just about to order takeout, so don't even try to get me to come out. It’s been a long day,” I say, when I see that it’s Mel.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH They’ve done it again, Abs.” Wincing, I pull the phone away from my ear, her screaming enough to sen

d me deaf.

“What do you mean, what's going on?” I say, no idea what she’s on about.

“The Playbook,” you twit,” she laughs. “There’s another blog post outing another guy! Have you been following it? I’m hooked on this shit, I tell you. I’m signed up for instant alerts but I still check it all the time just in case.”

A smile instantly creeps onto my face. I’m thrilled that anyone is reading “The Playbook,” but hearing Mel rave about it is a whole other level. She doesn’t have a clue I'm behind it, which is great. And she’s always telling me I can’t keep anything a secret. An unexpected twinge of guilt hits me. If only she knew how much I was keeping from her. The blog is just the tip of the iceberg. What I know—what I’ve done is enough to ruin our friendship for good. I shrug off the negative thoughts, refusing to let the past ruin my moment.

“Oh really? You’ll have to send me the link,” I say, trying to sound disinterested.

“Oh it’s so good, Abs. This person—or woman,” she corrects herself. “It has to be a chick, and probably one who has slept around.”

“Mel,” I laugh, cutting her off, “I haven’t seen you this worked up in ages,” I giggle. Still laughing, I pick up the menu to the Chinese takeout place around the corner from me. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Thank God for online ordering. I’m able to listen to Mel inadvertently tell me how amazing I am and sort out my dinner at the same time.

I fall into bed just after midnight, exhausted and barely able to keep my eyes open. All I can think about is “The Playbook” and how hard it’s taken off. Hell, I heard Jimmy Stanza, one of the kings of talk show TV mention my blog today. He offered me an exclusive if I ever wanted to reveal myself. I have to say, it’s tempting…

Not yet. I’m so used to being the girl who nobody really sees that the thought of being the centre of attention kind of terrifies me. What if I can’t handle the pressure that would come with that kind of exposure?

No. For now I’m happy hiding behind my computer screen. The only stories I want to be associated with at the moment are those about bedpans and walking frames.

Chapter Ten

Jake

My alarm abruptly wakes me up, mid wet dream. I roll over, running my hands through my hair. Suddenly there is a hand on my thigh and it makes me jump. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t dreaming. I throw back the covers and grin at the blonde who has her mouth around my cock.

I don’t even have time to prepare myself. I’m hard as fuck and about to explode in her mouth. Groaning, I grab a handful of her hair and ram myself as far down her throat as I can. Her blue eyes widen as she takes me in, almost choking as I come.

“What a nice way to wake up,” I mumble. I throw the sheets back, hoping she’s not expecting me to reciprocate. Not when I have training to get to. I grab my clothes, not paying attention to her, hoping she will take the hint and leave. She doesn’t. Instead, she rolls over and smiles at me.

“So, what have you got planned later?” she asks. “Maybe we can do dinner? Or there is a new movie I’ve been dying to see.”

Oh shit, here we go again. “Not sure what my plans are, but they’re unlikely to involve you,” I begin awkwardly. Her eyes widen and she pulls the covers over herself. That came out a little harsher than I intended.

“Oh, I see how it is,” she mutters. She sits up and turns away from me. I sigh. I don’t have time for this crap. I grab my jacket and leave.

This is exactly why I’m not interested in a relationship. Commitment just isn’t for me.

Walking into the locker room the sound of laughter fills my ears. I stiffen, sure that it’s about me. One look at Murray’s face and I know I’m right.

“Morning, Jake; perfect timing. We’re just lining up your first date.”