Page 45 of All the Forbidden Things
“Don’t blame ya. I wouldn’t even have her back here till she’s better if she was my missus and had done what she’s done.”
I scribble out a couple of words and add a few more. Shoving the pencil between my teeth, I pluck randomly at my guitar strings. Talking about Whit is messing with my writing mojo.
“She’s Layla’s mum. What do I tell my daughter when she gets older, that I kicked out her mum when she had nowhere to go?”
“If you told her why, explained that her mum was a lying, cheating—”
“I won’t brainwash my child into hating her mother. If I’ve raised her right, she’ll work things out for herself and realise what Whit’s all about. Besides, she might change by then, redeem herself in some way.”
“Yeah, and a whole new runway might be needed at Heathrow for the taking off and landing of all the pigs that might be flying by then . . . but I highly doubt it.”
I don’t bother to respond, mostly because he’s probably right, and instead comb my fingers through my hair and push it back off my face.
“You need a haircut.”
“Thanks for the grooming advice, Vidal. I need a lot of things right now, hair cut being the least of them.”
“Getting laid should be at the top. Get a babysitter, and I’ll take you out with me tonight, get you hooked up, and you can fuck Whitney right out of your system.”
I do, seriously, urgently, need a fuck. But just the thought of going to a club or a bar and putting myself out there makes my dick shrivel.
“Can’t. Cal and Mel will be over later. Mel’s cooking dinner.”
“Wow, thanks for the invite, ol’ buddy, ol’ friend.”
I finally raise both my eyes and my brows to look at him. “If you hadn’t finished offallmy vodka and smoked that joint last night, you might remember me telling you about it, Princess Jakealina.”
He closes his eyes, and his mouth falls open. “Ugh.”
“Yeah, ugh. Coming back to ya now, is it?”
“Yeah, sorry. I blame you, though, I had to drink and smoke alone.”
“I have a fucking kid to look after.”
He hits a few notes before shocking the shit out of me with, “Yeah, ya do. And a fucking great job you’re doing at it as well. If I had one, I’d give it all up to do the right thing like you are.”
My skin feels hot, and I have to squeeze my words out around the tightness in my throat. “Thanks, Jake. It’s not the way I thought my life would go, but it has, and I’m just trying to do the right thing by my daughter. I would love a night off to get drunk, smoke a little weed, and fuck, but, right now, Layla’s my priority. I want full custody,” I admit. “I’ve never exactly been portrayed as a role model by the press, so I don’t want to hand them any more ammunition and fuck up my chances of keeping her with me.”
“You need to get a nanny, a really fit Swedish or French nanny.”
I shake my head, but he’s right, I do need to think about taking on someone to help me with Layla. My studio has a self-contained flat adjoining it, I could easily have someone live in full-time, so I can work.
“What Ineedis a capable nanny. Someone I can trust. I don’t care what they look like . . . but nice legs and a great pair of tits would be a bonus,” I admit.
“Watch yourself. You’ll have feminists and the Nanny’s Union after you if they hear you talking like that.” Jake uses air quotes as he speaks, and I grin at him.
I scratch my head and then shake it. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old father of a baby girl who sounds more like a fifteen-year-old schoolboy. Fuck! You’re sounding more grown up than I am right now.”
I get hit in the side of the head by the drumstick he throws at me. I throw it back, he catches it, and we both smile.
“Dude, it’ll all work out in the wash. You’re gonna be fine, we’re all gonna be fine.”
“I fucking hope so, we need some happy times around here.”
“It’ll happen. I can feel it in my bones. How’s Cal’s sister doing? I’ve not really spoken to him since they got back.”
“Better than he’d hoped. Her physical injuries are healing, but it was the mental ones he was worried about.”
