Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Belle laughs to herself when Sasha says that, and reaches in her handbag for her phone.
“He would be playing this song if it happened, both him and Mark, they could sing it together!”
She’s scrolling for something, but Sasha is already laughing along with her.
“THAT song! Oh my God, yeah! You’ve heard it?”
Belle raises her eyebrows, still scrolling.
“Uh yeah, pretty sure everyone on the planet has by now though, haven’t they?”
Kingsley laughs as well. “People have been sending it to me every five minutes.”
I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, staring blank, and so is Josh.
“What song?”
Tiff leans in, overhearing.
“A song? What?”
“It’s a song this guy wrote, about his ex being a hooker and breaking his heart. Went viral off the charts a few days ago. He was mega cut up about it. Amazing tune. Seriously.”
I get a shiver.
No.
Please don’t let my intuition be right. Not this time.
I don’t even want to ask about it, let alone have her call up the song on her phone, just in case. Just in fucking case…
She keeps scrolling. Then speaks as she types.
“One in a thousand, it’s called. He’s gone off the scale. They reckon he’s landed a massive deal on the back of it already. People are posting everywhere, trying to find out who his hot hooker ex is.” She giggles. “I wondered if she’s an Agency girl, actually.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. No.
She turns her phone around, and there he is. Connor. With his trusty guitar, and his melancholic rock voice, singing as though his heart has been shredded to pieces.
She was my one in a fucking thousand… the one in my fucking forever…
But I was just one of her thousand fucks, and nothing more.
I thought I was pissed off at wanker Mack, but that’s nothing compared to how the bile of rage surges up from my guts at the sight of that video. Fuck it, my cunt of an ex hasn’t just wrecked the food at Josh’s parents’ place for me now. He’s wrecked the food at the Mulberry for me, too.
Josh tries to stand up when I do, but I manage yet another be right back, baby, before I get up and leg it, managing to give him a squeeze on the shoulder as a token gesture of I’ll be fine. I don’t want him to have to see this shit from me. It’s cringe enough as it is.
Connor has millions of fucking views of that song. MILLIONS. And it’s a song about ME.
I’M the fucking hooker… and people want to know about it. About me. The hooker that broke his heart. Asshole. Fucking ASSHOLE.
Seems like I am making Connor’s career after all, aren’t I? How fucking ironic.
One in a thousand. Yeah, right. Sure I was. Fucking prick.
I stumble to the bathroom as Tiff and Eb dash after me and throw up my glass of chardonnay straight into the toilet bowl.
Chapter Thirty-One
Eb and Tiff don’t say a word as they barge into the cubicle to join me. Eb kneels by my side as I retch another dry heave, and rubs my shoulder in silent comfort.
“Sorry,” I manage to say.
“Sorry for what? I’d be chucking up myself if I was in your position.”
“Same,” Tiff says. “What a fucking tosser.”
I know Connor is a tosser, but no matter how many times I think I’ve had the last gut punch from him, along comes another.
I finish retching and get myself into a sitting position with my back against the cubicle wall. I don’t want to cry, I really don’t. Connor doesn’t deserve my tears. FUCK HIM.
Tiff joins me and Eb on the floor, and they squeeze one of my knees each, all of us crammed in here with the door still swinging wide. Another woman steps into the bathroom and gives us a double take, then a snidey side eye, shaking her head. She’s got to be in her late fifties and made up to the max, and it rubs salt into the wound – taking me back to the days I felt like a girl who could never belong in a place like this.
I feel so fucking vulnerable, breathing deep in a last-ditch effort to get my composure back, but when Josh strolls into the ladies’ and stands in the cubicle doorway with solid concern in his eyes, it’s too much. I choke the tears back and end up in another dry heave. Then a-fucking-nother. The girls move away to give him space, and it’s him who sits down beside me this time and rubs his hand up and down my back. I still have the sound of Connor’s voice in my head, singing those dumb fucking lyrics. I can still see the video, with him sitting there strumming away, like he used to do in front of me. Every. Single. Day. And now, finally, the whole world is seeing it. Years of dreams finally coming true.