“Well, you’re no longer a virgin, so you owe me.”
There was a shifting sound, as though Toby was moving into a more comfortable position on a couch. “It’s gonna be like that, huh?”
“It sure is. And on that note, my prices have gone up.”
“Money’s not an issue for me.”
Fucking cunt. “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. Tell it to James Packer. I want ten grand.”
There was a pause in which Tabby wondered if she’d lost her mind. That was more than she, Sam or Noah had ever made on even the most elaborate commissions at Silver Daughters. Toby was going to hang up on her. No, he was going to call the cops and report her for extortion. He was going to text Sam and?—
“Fine.”
“Huh?”
“Ten grand. Done. Can we start this week?”
Tabby almost fell into a clump of blackberry brambles. She knew it was poor negotiating to question a yes, but she couldn’t help it. “You heard me, right? Ten grand?”
“Ten thousand dollars,” Toby repeated. “When can I come by the studio? I can move some stuff around and?—”
“F-f-fuck that,” Tabby said, almost choking in her hurry to stop him sashaying into Silver Daughters. “This is off the books, fuckface. We’ll do it at your place.”
A longer, even more loaded pause and Tabby could have slapped herself. “This isn’t a sex thing.”
“Sure,” Toby said smoothly. “Tomorrow?”
“Pump the brakes, douchehole. You need to tell me what you want so I can draw it up.”
“So, let’s go get a drink.”
Her heart gave a tight squeeze. She wasn’t dressed up, had no makeup on. She’d need to go inside and change, then duck out again, but yes. Fuck it. She wanted to have a drink with Toby. To get out of her house and her head and damn the consequences. “You mean now?”
“No,” he laughed. “I’ve got people coming over.”
Tabby’s hopes plummeted through the dirt trail, through the earth’s crust, right into hell. “By ‘people,’ do you mean ‘a woman?’”
“You’ll need to add a plural to that.”
“Congrats,” Tabby hissed, her voice cold as Ganymede. “Well, enjoy being a nouveau-rich fuckhole cliché but always remember that before me, the only box you ever got came with Spicy Wicked Wings, you fucking virgin.”
She moved to hang up, but Toby was too fast.
“Hang on. What about tomorrow?”
Tabby paused, her brain working around and through the anger to practicality. There was gold in these hills. A chance to pay Toby Tennant back for being such a shitbag. In this moment, she didn’t give a fuck about the money. She wanted revenge as badly as Sam ever had. “You’re in St Kilda now, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She calculated the furthest distance she could reasonably get away with suggesting. “Meet me in Footscray at 8 p.m. Bar Josephine. And have a good fucking think about what you want because we’re getting this done as fast as possible. And if you waste my time, you can fuck off and draw the whole fucking thing yourself.”
She ended the call, her body juddering like a wind-up toy. Fuck Toby Tennant. Fuck him, fuck him,fuck him.
4
Toby’s couch was sticking to his legs. He wanted to get up but knew when he did, there’d be a wax strip situation. Maisy said to go leather but never mentioned the naked sweat thing. He supposed he could not sit naked on his couch, but what was the point of owning a white leather couch if you couldn’t sit naked on it?
He could hear Olive and Lily giggling in his bedroom and wished he could ask them to leave without seeming like a prick. Two years ago, he couldn’t have imagined having one girl suck your cock while another tongued your asshole was something youcouldget sick of, yet here he was.
