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)
Carly and Connor are here. Now.
I’m so going to puke.
I’m really going to fucking puke.
I nearly do when Josh’s little scarlet haired sister Carly steps into the dining room, hand in hand with my smiling ex-boyfriend. I have to clamp my hand to my mouth to keep it down.
My eyes meet his, and he pales instantly, eyes wide. Both of us caught in the grip of the embarrassing fucking depths of hell.
Carly introduces him to her family members one by one, and I’m one of the last. She introduces me with a wave, and a hey, pleased to meet you herself, and from her stance it’s clear she hasn’t got a clue.
“Connor, this is Holly,” she says. “Josh’s new girlfriend.”
Holly, oh fuck.
“It’s Ella, not Holly,” her mum says. “Holly is her agency name, not her real one.”
I die inside.
“An agency name? What the hell is that?” Connor asks, on ghostly autopilot as he sits down at the table opposite me.
Carly laughs.
“You must remember what I told you, right?” she asks him, and he looks at her momentarily. “Please tell me you weren’t too wasted to remember that my big brother Josh is a hooker. His name is Weston when he’s working.”
“Caroline, stop it,” Josh says, trying to intervene, but she shrugs.
“It’s Carly, thanks. And stop what? It’s no secret? Everyone knows what you do. It’s hardly news that your girlfriend does it, too.”
Connor looks as fucked up as I feel. He looks like he’s going to hurl.
“So, Ella has an agency name?” he asks his skanky little cow of a girlfriend. “And that’s because what? Why is she called Holly?”
Carly giggles like he’s stupid, fluttering her feathery, fake lashes.
“The drink really went to your head last night, didn’t it? Are you still half asleep? She’s got an agency name because she’s an entertainer.” Josh’s sister turns her attention to me, grinning, unaware. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re a whore for a living, aren’t you, Holly? Just like Joshua.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stare mute at Carly, trying to get my head together enough to reply. The burning heat of the attention is all on me. Scorching from every angle.
But mostly from Connor.
I can see his wide-eyed shock horror in the corner of my eye, but I can’t look at him. I can’t do it. I just can’t.
Josh squeezes my fingers under the table, tight and out of sight, like some kind of Morse code for let’s get the fuck out of here, but I can’t just bail and run. I have to face the music.
Ha. Ironic.
My voice sounds more confident than I feel as I answer my boyfriend’s grinning little sister.
“Yeah, I’m an entertainer. Like Josh.”
“See,” Carly says and nudges Connor’s arm. “Told you. They’re a pair of professional hookers, and they earn enough to make a killing at it.” She gives Josh a bitchy smirk. “Just not as much as Connor will be earning when he hits the big time.”
Josh gives her a cold smile in return.
“Congratulations to the pair of you for the worldwide success lying just around the corner,” he says. “Such megastars.”
“We will be,” Carly says. “Connor is going to smash it right to the top of the industry. With my help, of course.”
“Can’t wait,” Josh says. “And in the meantime, let’s shut up and enjoy Mum’s lovely roast dinner, shall we?”
“Yes! I’ll get started,” Heather butts in. “Almost time for serving up, and I’ve got tiramisu for after.”
Oh, the poor grin on her face. So transparent and desperate. Josh’s mum is trying to kill the pure burst of WT holy F energy in the room, and I feel sorry for her, because there is no chance. She’s got no idea of the scale.
I look at everyone but Connor, holding my breath until someone takes up a different line of conversation. One that isn’t about me spreading my legs for money.
“Hey, so, um, how did you guys meet?” Emma asks Carly. “At a gig? You’re a musician right, Connor?”
My cunt of an ex clears his throat. There’s another awkward silence, and I wonder if he’s reeling as much as I am. Probably. He just found out I’m a fucking prostitute, after all.
“I’m a musician, yeah,” he says. “We, uh, met when I was gigging. In Camden. A while ago.”
My knee starts bouncing under the table. I need the tap, tap, tap as a distraction, or I’m going to break and run.
“It was love at first sight,” Carly tells the room, like she’s an onstage performer. “As soon as I saw him there on stage, I knew he was the one for me. And I know music when I hear it. He just needed a little bit of help from someone who knows the industry, and it’s working. His platform is rocketing. Off the charts.”
I look at her, not at him when she smiles at her lovely boyfriend. So sweet and sickly, it’s cringe.