He was okay,I suppose.
Her response flew through.
Then my phone vibrated almost immediately after.
I mean,he needed to tone down the aftershave a bit, and a couple of those suits he wore seemed a little too big round the shoulders, but he’s okay at his job. I’ll be able to teach him a few things, improve his performance.
Everything went rigid.Everything.
My head was alight with ideas of how she could improve my performance and my fingers were itching to turn what I knew was meant to be teasing at my work capabilities into something else not so innocent.
The image of that red hair wrapped around my fist as I demonstrated exactly how sturdy those desks were played in high definition in my brain.
My suits fit perfectly well.
I addeda smiley face and pressed send.
And I’ll haveyou know my performance is always exceptional.
I didn’tsecond guess it. Didn’t re-read it. She could take it whichever way she wanted, and if it was too much, she could just ignore it.
Which iswhat I guessed she was doing when after five minutes she hadn’t responded.
I opened up the family message group, which someone – probably Claire – had nicknamedDon’t Forget the Bleach, mainly because Mum always came out with something that alluded to her and Dad still having an active sex life which resulted in my older brothers, especially, leaving the chat abruptly.
I just didn’t overthink it. My parents had been together thirty-five years, had dragged up seven kids and were still together and happy. Plus, I was the youngest boy and used to anyone and everyone trying to embarrass me, so I was well practiced at switching off that part of my brain.
Not so much when it had to do with Georgie’s message.
The first unread message from today was sent from Claire at stupid o’clock which meant that either Eliza or Niamh had been awake early. I scrolled through, most of it arranging a couple of things this week and a comment about Teddy’s birthday party which was in another month. I stopped at my mother’s first message, dropped around six-thirty.
Marie:I’m heading to Seph’s first. Probably for breakfast. I’m pretty sure there will be a pile of shirts to iron.
I looked at the time.She’d sent that two hours ago, which meant she’d be here around nine.
Claire:You might have to iron out whatever Shay took home with him last night. Immy said he went home with a girl.
Marie:Nothing I haven’t done before. They’re more embarrassed than me. I’ve had more than enough practice turfing out young ladies from my sons’ bedrooms, haven’t I, Maxwell?
Maxwell:Can we remember Victoria reads these messages?
Claire:I know based on your first performance she would’ve thought you were a virgin, but she must’ve realised by now that it was just because you lack skills.
Maxwell:Have you ever discussed my skills in bed with Victoria, Claire?
Claire:Yes. She said you’d just about managed to find her clitoris on one occasion.
Maxwell:Bullshit.
Callum:Popcorn time.
Claire:Honestly, maybe you need to see a sex therapist. There’s clearly some massive issue, and if you don’t get it sorted…
Maxwell:There’s only one massive issue – the one between my legs.
Victoria:Really? We’re descending to this level on a Sunday morning? When will you learn that this is sport for Claire, husband-mine?
Victoria:Van, do you want us to have Teddy over night? I’m not in work tomorrow.
