Chapter 6

• Josh looks back up to the window. “Something like that. Get in the car, let’s go and don’t let me come back here. This is pointless.”
• “Ok. But are we not here because of her? Isn’t that defeating the purpose?”
• “Shut up dick,” Josh smiles at Adrian. “Stop making sense.” As the car speeds away Josh puts his head back into the seat and rubs his face.
• “I need a drink, a strong fucking drink.”
• 11.50 pm, Bondi
• Joshua leans over the railing of the balcony looking out to the ocean, sipping his Cointreau and ice out of a thick short crystal tumbler. The place Adrian has rented for him for the three months is swank, on the water. It is a little dated and well below the standard of his LA house. They chose it because it was the only one near a surf beach that had another house next door for Ben and Adrian. Having just run for an hour on the treadmill he is freshly showered and barefoot and wearing a loose pair of sweats and a white Bonds singlet. It’s March here. The first month of autumn, a cool briskness hangs in the air. Desperately trying to rein himself in from googling her and finding out her phone number he takes another sip of his liquor and enjoys the warmth as he swallows, temporarily closing his eyes.
• “This is a fucking disaster. I should have stayed in Melbourne,” he mutters to himself. The doorbell rings and assuming it’s Adrian, he saunters to the front door and opens it. A beautiful caramel blonde in a trench coat and white high heels stands before him, a sexy smile playing on her lips.
• “Can I help you?”
• “I’m looking for Joshua Stanton,” she breathes in a husky voice.
• He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve found him.”
• “I’m a friend of Carson’s. He asked me to deliver your house–warming present.”
• Joshua smiles and raises both his eyebrows. “Did he now, and what would that be?” She opens her coat and there she stands. White silk stockings, suspender belt, a lace white thong and short–cut white satin corset. Her body is tanned, toned and amazing. His jaw ticks, he bends his head to the left as if trying to crack his neck. His eyes scan up and down her body and he stands back, raising his hand, gesturing for her to enter.
• “I do love house–warming presents.” He smiles a long sexy smile which she returns.
• “You know, I think tonight for once, I will too.” She takes his hand. “I heard a little secret.”
• “Oh yes, and what was that?”
• “You like having your cock sucked.”
• “You did, did you?” He smiles. “Show me a man who doesn’t.” He opens his eyes wide.
• “Yes, it’s a coincidence don’t you think?” He looks at her puzzled. “Because tonight I’m in the mood to suck your cock dry.”
• “Hmm. That is a mood that I like. Coincidental or not,” he smiles. “I do have great friends don’t I?” he adds.
• “You do. I’m a very expensive house–warming gift.”
• He unashamedly looks her up and down. “I can see that,” he leads her to the bar where he pours another Cointreau for himself.
• “Do you want a drink?” He holds up his glass and tips his head to the side, cracking his neck again.
• She shakes her head. “No thanks.”
• He smiles, raises his eyebrows and takes her hand, leading her back to the foyer to go up the stairs to his bedroom, still carrying his drink.
• “You know you are just the distraction I needed tonight.”
• She smiles.
• “What did you say your name was?” he asks.
• “What do you want it to be?”
• He continues walking up the stairs and stops mid step to turn and look at her. He narrows his eyes and puts his chin to an angle.
• “My bedroom is this way… Natasha.”
• “I’m telling you he’s playing up,” Bridget whines.
• “Oh fuck, not this again,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair, my elbows resting on the table.
• “Just dump him already.”
• “No, I need proof.”
• “Why?” I scoff. “I’m over hearing about this wanker, it’s doing my head in.” I take my phone from my bag and check my messages, trying to block her out.
• “Listen here, you,” she points her teaspoon at me to accentuate her point. “You listen to all kinds of crazy shit at work and you’re going to damn well listen to mine.” I roll my eyes.
• “Yeah, but I get paid for that and my patients actually respect my opinion and besides you’re different. I can tell you what I think and I think you should dump the prick.”
• “So you think he’s a prick now?”
• “No, you think he’s a prick.”
• “When did I say that?”
• “When you said he was playing up on you.”
• “Oh god, don’t start your shrink shit with me, you’re twisting my words.”
• I roll my eyes. “Listen if you don’t want my opinion, don’t ask for it.”
• “Fine, I won’t.”
• “Good, suits me.”
• “What are you two arguing about?” Abbie joins us from the rest room.
• “We are not arguing,” I moan.
• “Yes we are, Tash thinks Jeremy is a prick”
• Abbie laughs and nods, “Who doesn’t? Jeremy is a prick.” We are at our favourite coffee shop, Oscar’s. We meet there a couple of times a week. Oscar’s is small and unassuming. Its walls are dark timber panelling with big green–glass pendant lights hanging low over oversized chocolate leather lounges that have coloured scatter cushions all over them. Big wooden coffee tables adorn the centre of each setting. The clientele are eclectic, from normal girls like us to doctors and lawyers, punk rockers to gorgeous gay men. Great coffee music always adds to the ambience and atmosphere, although on the last four or five times it hasn’t been as enjoyable as normal. Abbie (Bridget and my best friend) and I have had to endure countless hours of Jeremy crap.