Husband Sit (Husband #1) (17 page)

I’d
just come off a marathon. The last thing I needed was more sex.

Four
whiskies later, my curiosity about the practicalities of pole dancing in high
heels was appeased and my anxiety was a thing of the past. I got out my phone
and looked at the time—impossible to guess in nightclubs. They’re perpetually
dark.

Six
forty-five am. A respectable hour to ring Frith.

She
answered in two rings, “
J
,” just as the next song came on overloud—Robert
Palmer’s
Simply Irresistible.

I
raised my voice to be heard over it. “You sound perky.” The snappy line I’d
formulated in my head came out slurred.

“
Dawn
yoga on the veranda. Salute to the Sun
.”

I
raised my glass. “Saluté.” Then I noticed it was empty. Again.

“
Are
you drunk?
”

“I’m
drinking.” There was an important distinction there.

“
J.
Where are you?
” I knew that wary tone. She was about to go freak-out on me.

“I’m
fine. All good. Spiffing,” I added, and spittle rained out across my fingers. I
put my glass down with a clunk. Shit. I was pissed already.

My
glance wavered over to the bar. Or...someone had laced my drink. I picked up my
glass and sniffed in it but couldn’t tell anything past the melancholy scent of
whisky. “What does Rohypnol feel like, Frith?”

I
heard a clattering from her end, then a bang, like the screen door slamming. “
Where
are you, honey
?” More scrabbling. “
Go slow. I’m writing it down.
”

The
music got louder then and I had to say, “What?”

“
Where
are you!
” she shouted.

I
pulled the phone away from my ear. “Fuck.” Then I put it back. “Sydney. The
Cross.” I waited and heard nothing down the line.

Then,
“
King’s fucking Cross? What are you doing there? Fucking hell, Jill. It’s
seven in the morning. Have you been there all night?
”

“I
feel weird.” The room was starting to spin.

“
Are
you alone?
”

“Yes.”

“
Jesus
.”
She sounded frightened then and I wanted to reassure her, but the sensible part
of me knew she was right to be scared. We’d grown up in Dakaroo, a tiny outback
town. Sydney was the big scary city, and its seediest corner was the Cross. To
be here alone and vulnerable...

I
shuddered, realizing how dangerous my situation was.

The
music stopped and the room seemed suddenly darker. A middle-aged waiter loomed
over me.

“Another?”
he asked and smiled, all yellowed teeth and nicotine breath in my face.

“No.”

I
heard Fritha then. “
Who are you talking to?
”

“The
waiter.”

“
Put
him on
.”

“What?”

He
was turning away.

“
Put
the fucking waiter on, Jill!
”

“Excuse
me!” I said way too loudly in the silent club.

He
turned back and smiled his yellow smile.

“My
friend wants...word.” I thrust the phone toward him, wondering belatedly if
that was smart. What if he didn’t give it back? What if I was alone here with
no way to contact anyone?

My
hand flopped back to my side, empty, and it was suddenly difficult to raise my
head.

I
heard the waiter say, “Allergy? What...? Anaphylactic what?”

Then
I heard Fritha shouting from where I sat.

“
Ring
an ambulance!
”

“All
right!”

He
slapped the phone back onto the table in front of me but the sound was watery
and far away. There was no sense of movement, only a dull thud when my head hit
the floor, then nothing.

An angel
was speaking so I knew I’d gone to heaven.

Her
voice was high-pitched and imperious. “...cover the costs. I gave you a Gold
Amex. And I want Doctor...” The voice faded as a warm bliss slid through my
veins and I sighed. Then my bones—which had been achy and sore—melted like
chocolate in a fondue, and the world was warm and sweet and delicious.

“What’s
she smiling at?” the angel asked. “First babbling and now smiling.”

A
quiet voice answered, but I was drifting, dreaming of Finn swimming with me in
warm chocolate fondue, then making love with it smeared all over our bodies,
licking and sucking and fucking and it was so delectable in so many ways, my
tongue tingled as if my taste buds had orgasmed and I was feeling the delicious
afterglow.

“Mmm
honey,” I whispered, but it ran together and sounded like
money.

“Is
she awake?” The angel spoke again. Then I felt a touch on my shoulder. “I’ve
got it covered, Jillian. You just rest. Your stomach’s been pumped.”

Stomach.
What? Cold reality intruded on my dream and I finally focused in on the voice.
“Ange.” I sounded so husky.

“Not
Angela. It’s Louella,” she said, right beside my ear.

Missy
Lou
. Okay, not
my first choice, but it felt damned good to have a friend beside me. I listened
as she went on, “Fritha rang me. It’s okay. They’ll discharge you when you wake
up properly.”

“I’ve
got a hotel...in Newcastle.” I told her the name of it, hoping she’d let them
know I was still coming. I didn’t want to lose my booking.

“You
can’t be on your own for the first twenty-four hours.”

“Then?”
I struggled to open my eyes and she came into view—shiny blond hair swept back
into a wavy bob, sunset orange lipstick, box dress and pearls. She would have
looked like an adorable sixties astronaut’s wife if it wasn’t for the cold
brown eyes and disapproving mouth.

“I’m
stuck with you until tomorrow,” she said. “We can leave in four hours. Try not
to vomit in my new Bentley on the way.”

I
shut my eyes, suddenly too tired to argue.

Someone
said something quietly by her side and Missy Lou snapped back, “Well she
vomited in my car the last time she was drunk.”

“That
was twenty years ago.” I kept my eyes shut. “And for your information… the last
time I was drunk was a fortnight ago.”

Nobody
said anything else and I drifted back to sleep. Sometime later, I woke to a
disgusting taste in my mouth and the feeling that I was completely back in my
body. The room was empty so I took my time looking around it. I’d been in
hospital rooms before, but nothing as swanky as this. It was all plush carpet
and gleaming stainless steel with tasteful olive curtains drawn back from a
view across parkland.

There
was a door open across the room and I saw white tiles inside. An en suite? I
levered myself up and slid off the bed, almost slumping to the floor. My legs
were seriously wobbly but my bladder was about to burst, so that motivated me
to keep moving, ignoring the cold air on my ass as the back of my hospital gown
swayed open. Indecency was the least of my worries. I was too busy grabbing
furniture to hold myself up, but finally I made it inside, pulled the door shut
and used the solid steel handrail beside the toilet to slide down onto it.

Then
blessed relief.

Really.
Is there anything better than a long, hot pee when you’re busting? I sighed so
loudly I was sure they’d hear me at reception, wherever that was.

Eventually
my bliss was over and I was dabbing myself dry, flushing and furniture-walking
over to the sink which held me up long enough for a thorough hand-washing.
Goodness only knew where those hands had been. With luck I’d get to eat
sometime soon, and I didn’t want to be worried about possible bacteria.

The
mirror above the sink wasn’t kind. I had dark circles under my eyes and my face
was pale. My hair had fallen out of its ponytail and looked suspiciously sticky.
Sure enough, it was stiff, so before I could start speculating if I’d vomited
in it—
Ew
!—I leant down and gave the front of it a good rinse with hand
wash. There was no comb, so I finger-combed it back off my face and re-tied the
ponytail. If anything, I looked even more tragic, but at least I wouldn’t smell
like spew.

That
done, I pulled open the bathroom door, feeling marginally more sure-footed, but
before I could step back out into my hospital room, Finn said, “Babe, are you
alright?” and something soft and warm loosened behind my ribs.

I
just stared at him, standing by my bed in black cargo pants and a sexy black
singlet under an open black shirt. The dark colors made his freshly-tanned
skin, caramel dreads and warm green eyes all the more striking, and his anxious
smile made my defensive heart melt, despite itself.

“I’m
fine,” I lied, completely thrown by his presence. Was he stalking me? “Just a
bit of food poisoning—”

“If
alcohol was food,” he cut in, his frown deepening. “But it’s not. Were you trying
to hurt yourself?”

His
last comment had come out almost accusingly, and the marshmallow center I’d
been worried about suddenly developed a hard shell. I immediately thought,
And
what fucking business is it of yours?
Oh yes, anger was much easier to deal
with. “I was celebrating, if you must know. It just got out of hand.” And now
he would think I couldn’t look after myself.

Not
that it should matter what he thought, but clearly it did, or I wouldn’t be
stressing about it. I tried to purge that by snapping at him. “And what are you
doing here anyway?”

“Your
friend Louella rang me.”

What
the hell?
I just
stood blinking at him. “Why would she do that?”

“Apparently
you told her to.”

“No
way.”

“Way.
I heard it when she rang me. You were babbling about—” He cut himself off and
after a second he glanced down at my bare feet. I thought I saw him swallow.
“You said you were in love with me and that you wanted me here.”

He
kept on staring at my feet with their cracked pink nail polish and I just shook
my head, with no idea what to say. I didn’t think he was lying. It was quite
likely that I’d babbled about loving him, because, I did—love him. The churning
emotions I was struggling to suppress were evidence enough of that. But why
would Missy Lou listen to me and act on it?

I
shook my head. “How did she get your number?”

He
managed to meet my eyes. “You were bragging about me sending you that text,
about...oral sex.”

If
my eyes could have gone any wider, they would have. Me, talk sex with Missy Lou—
Miss
Missionary Position
as Frith and I used to call her? “No shit?”

“No
shit. She looked me up in your phone and told me to get here. She thinks I’m
your boyfriend.”

A
sudden cold feeling swept over me. “You didn’t tell her you were married, did
you?” She’d never speak to me again.

He
shook his head and my shoulders slumped in relief, but still I said, “Don’t.
Don’t ever.” My knees went weak again and it was all I could do to stumble to
the bed and flop onto it.

Finn
tried to fuss with the sheet but I pulled it away from him.

“In
case you haven’t noticed,” I hissed. “I’m
not
your girlfriend, so
there’s no need to pretend. I’m sorry she dragged you to Sydney—”

“I
was here.”

I
stared at him, surprised all over again, but he simply continued to stare at
me, with something firm about his gaze now. I shouldn’t care, but I had to ask,
“Why?”

I
expected him to say he was here for work, or a shopping trip with the Kat
monster, but instead he said, “I came to be near you.”

The
door flew open before I could think of...anything really. Of a scathing reply.
Of a gushy reply. Of any reply. I was in mid-romantic angst and Missy Lou
simply marched in, oblivious, and dropped her
Louis Vuitton
handbag on
the table at the end of my bed.

She
frowned at me and added a downturned mouth. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“That’s
my fault,” Finn cut in, and Missy Lou glanced at my hospital gown and then
raised a perfectly sculpted brow at him before he hurried on. “We were talking
and I forgot to tell her you were waiting.”

“I
see.”

It
had always impressed me the way Missy Lou could intimidate people when she was
only as old as me. But on this occasion, it pissed me off.

“It’s
not his fault,” I snapped. “I was in the toilet when he arrived and I’ve only
just got back to bed.”

“Have
you finished vomiting?”

“I’ve
finished peeing,” I shot back. “And thank you for your concern about my
welfare.”

“You
overdosed on alcohol,” she said calmly. “That requires pity, not concern.”

I’d
had enough of this. “The first drink was a triple, admittedly, but after that
they were single shots.”

Both
her eyebrows came up this time. “Then how do you explain the equivalent of a
bottle of scotch in your system?”

I
blinked at her. Was that possible? I was only in the nightclub for a little
over two hours. For some reason Finn put a hand on my shoulder and I was too
confused to shake it off. Could the waiter have misunderstood and made every
drink a triple? I’d guzzled them so fast...
Fuck
. That meant I’d drunk
the equivalent of twelve shots in quick succession. No wonder I’d crashed!

I
looked up at Finn and he just frowned down at me, as if I was some sort of
loser who needed looking after. I did shake his hand off my shoulder then, and
despite sticky hair, a hospital gown, no underwear and a freshly-pumped
stomach, I drew myself up on the bed as if I was planning to address the
nation.

“Thank
you for paying my bills,” I said to Missy Lou. “And for your offer of
hospitality, which I gratefully accept.” The last thing I wanted was Finn
offering, or her thinking I should go with him. “If I could have ten minutes to
say goodbye to Finn and then dress, I’ll be ready to go.”

“Very
well,” she replied, just as stiffly. “And for the record, your boyfriend
insisted on paying your bills. So you should thank him.” She nodded at the
door. “I’ll be outside at the nurses’ station.”

I
swallowed down humiliation to smile blandly, but as soon as she was gone, I
turned on Finn. “Why would you even do that?”

“I
feel responsible.”

Wrong
answer
. “What do
you think I am? Some charity case who needs—”

“Not
like that.”

“I’ll
have you know I earned twenty grand for my last fortnight’s work. I can pay my
own bills.” For some crazy reason, I could feel myself getting angry and
excited at the same time. There was something about fighting with Finn that
really got me hot and bothered, and damn it, I wanted him to admit that he
cared about me.

He
visibly blanched. “Twenty grand...for the young guy?”

Don’t
do it. Don’t tell him!

Twit
that I am, I couldn’t help myself. I’d rather him think I was a complete slut
than a loser. “He fucked me seventy times while I was there. Five times a
night.
That’s
what I was celebrating.” And because I was on a roll, I
couldn’t help adding, “A job well done.”

I
wanted to also add,
At least someone appreciates my services
but I
didn’t. I let the silence that followed my declaration hang between us.

In
the end, he just shook his head as if he was totally confused. “Why did you say
you loved me?”

“Why
did you come to Sydney?”

He
breathed through his open mouth a few times before his shoulders hunched
slightly and he snapped, “Not to be close to a woman who fucks guys for a
living, that’s for sure.” He sounded as if he was getting angry himself now.
“Why would you even—”

“Because
it felt good,” I snapped back. “Don’t you ever do things just because they feel
good?”

“And
not care about the consequences?”

“The
consequence of my job,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “Is that one day I’ll be
able to afford a home of my own.” Falling back on my cover story with Fritha.
“I won’t need to rely on some crappy guy who can pull it all out from under me...when
I’m...” I hiccupped a breath and my insides contracted, then suddenly I
couldn’t go on because for some insane reason I was crying.

And
then I started sobbing.

I
had no idea where it came from, but big heaving sobs were wrenching in my chest
and all I could do was pull my knees up and cover my face with my hands. Finn
moved in beside me and put both arms around me but I just blubbed on and on. At
some point, I heard Missy Lou come in the room.

“What’s
going on?”

“She’s
crying about some crappy guy who pulled the rug out from under her. A house I
think.”