Perfectly Obsessed (13 page)

Lorna watches him leave and sighs heavily.

“Before you say anything, I was never going to get it on with him.”

“I’m proud. It must have been hard,” I laugh.

“Not really, that night Drake came back for you and I was the one who had to make my way home alone, I realised just how much of a shitty friend I was to you. How come you never moaned about it?” she asks.

“We were young and it’s not like I went home alone all the time, I had my fair share of one night stands,” I shrug.

“Yeah but not as much as I did,” she argues, “Anyway, believe it or not, I rarely go out anymore. I’m finishing my studies in Design and fashion.”

For the first time in a long time, I genuinely smile and feel happy. It is about time she carried on with her dream. She never suited working for someone else and she has too much talent to be stuck in a nine to five-day job.

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her and mean it.

“I guess we’ve both changed and it isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” she says.

“I guess we have, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I need you in my life whether Drake is here or not. When I left, I didn’t leave you, just everyone else.”

There hasn’t been any talk of my family up to this point and I don’t know if I want to hear anything now. I haven’t heard from my parents or brothers, even though I have kept the same number all this time. Not once have they tried to get in contact with me, not even my mother.

“Have you heard from them?” Lorna asks, as if she can read my thoughts.

I shake my head and plaster on a smile.

“Fuck them, they never deserved you,” she smiles.

“Have you seen them at all while visiting your parents?”

I assume they are still neighbours.

“I’ve seen your mum a few times, she smiles at me then quickly moves on.”

That is all I want to hear. It hurts a little that my own mother can’t ask my best friend how I am behind my father’s back.

For a fraction of time I had hoped she would have at least asked after me.

“How about we start over, neither of us are the same as we were back then, how about we make a fresh start as we are now?” I offer.

“Love it,” she beams.

“So I hope you brought some boots with you, we have a lot of walking to do over the next couple of days.”

Changing the conversation, I stop think about what used to be.

We delve into planning the next day of visiting all the landmarks in London and what shops we want to hit.

The night is what I needed, my best friend back and she does a brilliant job on taking my mind off of Drake.

Chapter Twelve

Drake

Visiting day. The only day in the month I countdown more than I do to my parole hearing. The day I am reminded how beautiful my girl is when my memories do not do justice to her. I hear her voice everyday on the phone but when she is sitting opposite me, I catalogue every syllable and tone and replay it when I am alone in my cell of a night to drown out the noises that bounce around the brick walls and echoes till the sun rises the next morning.

Not long to wait, the screw should be round any minute now to call time. I jump on the spot trying to distract myself from the rush that is overtaking me. Every visit with her is a month closer to being with her every God damn day far, far away from this place.

“Calm yourself, Deveroux. I can see your hard-on from here.”

I turn to see Maxwell walking towards me.

“Fucking right you can,” I grin.

He is currently halfway through his twenty-year sentence, in the cell five up from mine and is the top man in here. At dead on six foot in height and built like a fucking giant, his size has never intimidated me. I first met him when I was locked up back in 2000 after being found guilty of assault and affray. My I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude gained me notoriety with him and I fast learned that being under his wing was on par with being a fucking rock star. I hurt a lot of people for him over the course of my stay that time, he thought I was his new bitch boy but to be honest, I craved the adrenaline that I needed to vent my anger and the types of criminals I got to beat to within an inch of their lives were the scum of the earth. I mean, I’m no law abiding citizen and most people would say society would be a better place without people like me a part of it, but the people I hurt and left scars that would never heal, physical and emotionally, were the types that would make you vomit when you heard their crimes against women and children. People can say what they like about me but my crimes don’t hurt vulnerable people what so ever.   

Maxwell stands beside me and we both lean against the rail on the top landing looking down on everybody else.

“I’ve heard whispers you’re getting a new cell mate, he should be arriving at some point today.”

I sigh heavily, I pray to God this one isn’t a chatty little fuck like Ash. He was released last month and while I found it strange that I had the cell to myself for all this time, I have loved it.

“Have these whispers said who it is?” I ask.

Maxwell doesn’t play games normally unless he is trying to manipulate someone, so if he tells me he has heard whispers then it is true and he also knows who.

He nods and smiles, “Tommy the Tank.”

Humph, I haven’t seen him for at least two years. I had heard shortly before my arrest that he had been banged up but I assumed he would have been released by now.

The bank job I did in Norwich just after I started seeing Cammie was with Tommy. After, we had all gone our separate ways trying not to been seen together while we laid low which I found easy because I had Cammie to think of.

“At least I know he won’t talk my head off all hours of the fucking day,” I laugh, non-committed to a more detailed answer.

“Any of you that actually have people who want to see you today, make your way to the left gate.” A screw yells.

“That’s me,” I whoop and slap Maxwell on the back, “Thanks for the heads up about Tommy,” I tell him, jogging down the stairs.

“No worries.”

She is sitting at our usual table when I catch sight of her through the barred partition separating us as I wait for the screw to walk us into the visiting room.

Her blonde wavy curls are piled on top of her head with a few wispy curls falling loosely around her face. Natural beauty at full glory. I ache every time I see her and I long to touch her without being under supervision. The second we’re in the room, I make a bee line for her and hold her in my arms as soon as I reach the table.

“You smell so good,” I tell her, pushing my nose deeper into the crook of her neck.

Like strawberries and coffee. She would have worked the morning shift today before coming here and wouldn’t have had time to shower but I like it. It reminds me of the outside.

“I missed you so much,” she says, pulling away and sitting down.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you,” I assure her.

On closer inspection she is looking tired. Her eye make-up tries to hide the fatigue and bags that have been developing over the last few months but today, it does nothing and it worries me.

“You don’t tell me in your letters how tired you are,” I say, “How many hours are you working? Bearing in mind I can find out if you don’t tell me the truth,” I warn her.

She has a tendency to withhold information she thinks I won’t like hearing, that is when I have to extract the truth from Marg. Although the closer they become the harder it is.

“The same hours as usual, I just haven’t been sleeping well lately. Whoever has moved into the flat above us likes to throw a lot of furniture around while they argue all hours of the night,” she says, softly.

It is things like this happening that frustrate me the most. If I was home it wouldn’t be a reoccurring situation.

“Why haven’t you told Stan? He’ll make sure they’ll shut the fuck up,” I growl.

She knows she can go to Stan for help if she needs to.

“I don’t want to pester him all the time, if I went to him over everything I would constantly be on the phone to him,” she snaps, then immediately frowns, “I’m sorry, I’m fed up of having to go to him for help. I’ll sort it out myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to, just because I’m not there doesn’t mean you have to sort out pricks like them.”

“Fine, I’ll call him when I get home. Happy now?”

“Extremely,” I mumble, “Don’t let anyone shit on you Cam, if anything affects you when it shouldn’t, do something about it because otherwise you are going to be left the mug for putting up with it.”

I have told her numerous times not to put up with anything she isn’t happy with but she muddles along letting it get to her.

My leg shakes with building anger that once again I’m not there to help when people take the piss.

“Lorna is planning on coming up again soon, she fell in love with London as much as I did when I first came here,” she tells me, I know she is trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

The thought of Lorna coming again doesn’t fill me with the same amount of anxiety as it did last month.

Cammie promised me she wasn’t left high and dry in a dodgy pub because she wanted to get laid. I believe her, Cammie might hold back petty information but not the kind that is that significant to me.

“That’s good, how long this time?”

“Only for a few days, she hasn’t got many holiday days left. She wants to hit the places we didn’t have time for last month. I think her and Stan have been in contact too, maybe he has something to do with her wanting to come back.”

“Yeah, he’s mentioned her a few times when I’ve called him.”

“She hasn’t outright mentioned him, she skirts round the lines but I can work her out.”

“And Marg, how is the romance of the century going?” I ask, causing Cammie to laugh.

“It’s going, that’s for sure. William is everywhere Marg is, at the café, when she goes shopping, he even went with her to her hair appointment. She didn’t moan because he paid.”

“Sounds like she’s found someone good,” I say, happy for Marg.

“Yeah, I think she has.”

“What about you? Do you still think you found someone good?” I ask.

She fidgets in her seat and moves closer becoming serious.

“I know I found someone good for me. You being in here hasn’t changed a thing.”

A smile creeps across my face, I can’t deny hearing her talk so adamantly about us is a big turn on.

“I knew you were special the first time I saw you,” I tell her.

“You must have seen something to come back after all that time,” she smirks.

I chuckle, “You must have too, because you remembered me.”

I’m not a soft man, being in love with Cammie is the first time I have let my guard down and allowed the light in. I’ll even go as far to say I found a sensitive part to me I never knew existed. It has always been looking out for myself, I checked in on Marg and made sure she was okay but I never had to look after her. Cammie is the one who managed to seep through the darkness of the Deveroux heart and she proves with every visit she treks here, every night she makes sure she is home for when I call and with every letter she writes that I was right to go back for her when I last got out of prison.

“I don’t think anyone could forget you,” she sighs.

“I only care what you think. Do you want to know what I’m thinking of now?” I ask, lowering my voice.

She leans forward and pins me with her attention.

“I’m thinking of how many positions I could have you in on this table.”

Her cheeks blush instantly and I can’t help carrying on, “On your back, bent over, you riding me on this chair, my imagination is endless. I miss how you feel when I am inside you, it’s never felt so good. And just the thought of how tight you’re going to be after not taking me all this time makes my dick hurt.”

Her eyes glaze over and she shudders softly imagining everything I am telling her.

“Bloody Christ, Drake. You’re making me hurt now,” she says, releasing a long breath.

“Good, I want you hurting for me all day, every day,” I smirk.

“Just so you know, when I’m lying in bed at night I touch myself thinking of your head between my legs working me up before you…”

“Stop. I can’t take anymore. You’re so fucking sexy, I’m going to cum right here.”

I’m not fucking around either. If we carry this on I will throw her over the table and fuck her senseless. It has been too fucking long to joke about, I don’t know why I brought it up in the first place.

“Tell me more about Marg, she’s enough to make me flop,” I laugh, but I’m deadly serious. It is plain to see Cammie needs the distraction too because she quickly shifts in her seat and starts waffling on.

Yet another visit over and done with. I hate the goodbyes even more than she does. Knowing she has a way to go till she is home while I am stuck here makes want to punch the cold, hard bricks with as much force as I can gather.

If I can get back to my cell without showing any emotions I will make it through yet another day keeping my head down.

I pass everyone and take the stairs two at a time until I reach the second landing where my cell is.

My earlier conversation with Maxwell completely forgotten about, I am about to haul out this guy who thinks he is welcome to enter my fucking cell uninvited.

Lucky for him he turns around and I am met with Tommy the Tank and all frustrations about Cammie slither away.

“I was told you were stopping by today,” I laugh, slapping him on the back.

He hasn’t changed one bit. Still the size of a fucking tank, hence his nickname and covered head to toe in tattoos. Many more than I have.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for fucking ages, mate. I have an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”

“In that case, make yourself at home. Mi casa su casa?” I say, spreading my arms around the small cell letting him know I’m good to see him.