Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
NEVER FLICKED OR LICKED IT
Idrive him back to his place and make quick work of chucking my clothes back on before getting out to say goodnight to him.
“Well, um, I can honestly say I have never had a night like that before,” I state honestly.
“Hey, it was a first for me too. One I will definitely not forget in a hurry.” He smiles, placing his hands in his pockets.
We both stand there in awkward silence, even though not 10 minutes ago I was riding him like I was riding a bucking bronco.
“Right, well um, high five?” I ask, holding up my hand while internally slapping myself for being such a twat.
He laughs and slaps my hand. “So, I guess I will see you around?” he asks.
“Sure, um, take care,” I say quickly, jumping back in my car and driving off quickly. “Take care,” I mutter to myself. “Neve, you’re a fucking moron.” I didn’t even give him my number and the bitch about it is I would really like to see him again.
“You have got to be kidding me?” Bella my flat mate and best friend asks while shovelling chocolate cereal in her mouth.
“I wish I was.” I groan, slamming my head on the table.
“I mean, how did you not hear or realise you were surrounded by a large group of middle-aged people shagging, tugging, blowing and frigging all over the place?” she asks.
“Because I was caught up in the moment, I was enjoying myself. You know I can never return to that pub. I can’t unsee Reg doing his wife on the bonnet of his Volvo.” I shudder at the horror.
“Oh, grow a pair will you? So Reg and his wife like a little bit of dogging. So what? I mean good on old Reg, he’s what 70? They’re just keeping the spice in their relationship alive.” She shrugs.
“Yes, I get that, but it’s a bit different when the landlord of the pub you sing at is there bloody balls deep in his wife right in front of your fucking headlights!” I snap.
“Alright, chill out. Look you need that job, and you need that money. Plus, who knows? This Dylan might come back to the pub for seconds.” She winks.
“Believe me, I doubt I will be seeing him again and when I do, I’m sure like me he will die a little inside from embarrassment.” I sigh.
Bella places the cereal box back in the cupboard. “Look, just face it when you go back on Saturday. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s 8:30am and I need a shower and some relaxation time.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Just stop using the remote-control batteries would you?! I swear, you masturbate more than a teenage boy!” I yell after her.
“It’s what keeps me youthful!” she yells back.
I decide to try and to jump in my shower and wash away last night’s embarrassment before I start the day job.
Once dressed I practically run down to the local café where I work. I run through the door narrowly missing customers. “Excuse me, sorry,” I apologise.
“Neve, you’re 15 minutes late!” Dave shouts from back of the kitchen.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I promise I will work through my break, okay?” I rush out as I grab my apron, notepad and pen.
“Hi, sorry for the wait, what can I get you?” I ask the first table.
“Well, would you look who it is Gerald.”
I look up and I swear the colour drains from my face. “Oh shit,” I mutter.
“Oh, don’t worry deary, your secret is safe with us. Some people just don’t understand and can be very judgemental,” she says, patting my arm. I try not to shudder at the thought of where she had those hands last night while her and her husband were dogging.
“Err, thanks. You know we weren’t there for um, you know, we er, how do you say? We just got a little frisky and one thing led to another. It wasn’t until afterwards we realised it was an um, specialist site,” I ramble embarrassed.
“Oh, now that is funny, isn’t that funny Gerald.” She cackles loudly.
“Yes dear, very, very funny,” Gerald agrees.
“Yeah hilarious,” I mutter, not finding it funny at all. “So um, what can I get you?” I ask.
“We will both have the full English with tea, please lovely,” she orders.
“Sure, won’t be a moment.” I smile and place their order in the kitchen. I serve a few more tables, doing everything I can to keep busy and avoid their table again. There is a lot about last night I want to forget, and they are a part of it.
After the Sunday breakfast rush calms down, I grab a quick drink to prepare for the Sunday dinners in the afternoon.
Dave’s a good guy and he offers all pensioners half price Sunday roast dinners.
Most come over after they’ve finished their church bingo.
I love and hate my job. I love the people, the conversations, they make me laugh, but God I hate the job.
I hate how my clothes smell of grease, I hate that my feet ache at the end of the day and I really hate that it pays so little.
“Neve, table 6!” Dave calls out.
“On it,” I call over my shoulder while carrying three plates filled to the brim with full English breakfasts on them.
I walk quickly, squeezing between the tables as I go.
My foot catches on someone’s bag and before I can do anything about it, I am flying through the air, along with the three breakfasts.
“Oh fuck!” I yell as I land on the floor with a thud.
My ankle twists underneath me and I feel a crack.
I scrunch my face up in pain and watch as the three breakfasts land all over the dogging couple.
Dave comes running over. “Jesus Christ Neve,” he mutters.
“Oh shit Dave, I think I’ve broken my ankle.” I groan.
“I’m sure it isn’t that bad, probably a bad sprain,” Dave rushes out. “I mean, we don’t know for sure that it’s broken,” he adds.
I look down at my ankle. “Well shit Dave, I am not doctor but I’m pretty fucking sure my foot wasn’t facing that way before!” I snap.
He looks down at my ankle and pulls a face. “Well, maybe a trip to the hospital just to check it out won’t do any harm?” he suggests.
‘No shit,” I snap before crying out in pain.
One of the customers kindly drives me to the hospital, where I’m x-rayed and they confirm that it’s broken. I call Dave.
“Dave, I’m just waiting to have my plaster cast put on. It’s broken, I’m going to be out of work for six weeks. I’m so sorry,” I apologise.
“Shit Neve, there is no easy way of saying this but I can’t keep your job open for that long. I just can’t afford to do that. Sorry but I’m going to have to let you go.” He sighs.
I close my eyes, afraid this would happen. Dave’s a good guy at heart and I know he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t have to. “I understand Dave, take care of yourself,” I say before disconnecting.
“Excuse me miss, is there anyone you can call to take you home?” a nurse asks.
“Sure, my roommate. I will call her.” I scroll through my phone to Bella’s number. I could call my parents, but hearing them tell me what a failure I am and having hours of I told you so repeated to me over and over again isn’t something I really want to be hearing right now.
“Yo biatch!” Bella answers.
“I need you to come and pick me up from Queen Charlotte’s hospital.” I sigh, leaning my head back against the wall. The kind nurse smiles excitedly while holding up the bright luminous pink bandage for my cast, like it will just make my day.
“Why? What have you done? You don’t have anything stuck anywhere do you because I think under the roommate agreement, that is crossing a line and I’m not ready for crossing that line with you,” Bella rambles on.
“Bella,” I call out her name to stop her but she just continues.
“I think that covers arse wiping too. I’m not bothered about helping you in and out of the bath, because lord knows I’ve seen your flange so many times that I am close to classing it as my lesbian experience, even though I have never flicked or licked it.”
“Bella!” I hiss down the phone.
“Okay, okay, I’m just saying that when that wax strip got stuck, I may have accidently grabbed some of your lip rather than the strip, but I mean that’s a compliment, right?” she babbles on.
“Bella, for fuck’s sake, will you just shut up and listen?” I yell. The nurse looks up wide eyed. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Geeze, sorry. Someone’s definitely got their flappers in a twist.” She huffs.
“I have broken my ankle, and Dave has just had to let me go from the café. Please can you come and get me?” I finally manage to say.
“Oh, fuck a duck.” She sighs. “Well, at least you don’t have anything stuck, or you would have been the talk of the hospital for months to come. Where’s your car keys? I will leave right away.”
“On my dresser, and thanks,” I mutter before disconnecting.