Tabby struggled to come up with an argument that wasn’t‘So then buy me a jet ski, you fucking cunt!’“Whatever. Your parents are still in a cult.”
Toby frowned. “No, they’re not.”
“They are. And here’s the scoop, Toby Tennant, no matter how many girls you fuck or luxury automobiles you purchase for coercion, you still grew up in a bizarre Christian nightmare and were covered in dog hair the bulk of the time.”
For a split second, she worried she’d gone too far, but new Toby bounced like a basketball. “You think I should, what? Be monogamous and living in a three-bedroom house in Eltham?”
“No,” Tabby shot back. “I think you should be living right here, in ass-douche towers, slowly but surely becoming wiener sibs with the entire Western Bulldogs backline.”
Toby laughed, and that irritated her worse than anything.
“You fucking suck, dude.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “Not as good as that jet ski girl did, though.”
“How hard can it be to swallow something the size of a peanut?” Tabby said sweetly. “It’s crazy, but I think I almost remember when you used to be nice...?”
“Maybe you fucked it out of me?”
She felt like an oven door had opened on her face. Where did he even get the balls to bringthatup? “The timeline checks out.”
Toby slid his free hand behind his head. “You still think about it, huh?”
The heat in her face rolled down her chest and into her belly. “LOL.”
“Okay, Tabitha. Whatever you say.”
“Right, fuck this.” She stood, pushing back the rolling chair. “I’m outta here.”
“Hey, whoa,” Toby sat up, his hands raised in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m being a dick. Stick around, and I’ll stop.”
Tabby hesitated. The money Toby had given her was in her bag, and the tattoo on his arm was less than an eighth completed, but her pride was the real thing stalling her. She was the shit-talking queen of the southern hemisphere. She’d driven countless right-wingers off Twitter and gotten seven-figure pickup artists to delete their social media accounts. Getting so offended bantering with Toby Fucking Tennant that she stormed off wasn’t something she could live with.
“Fine,” she spat. “But shut up and let me tattoo, or I’ll stick you in the neck and bail. And no amount of jet skis will keep me from telling the cops you have dead kids in your basement.”
“Sure.” Toby gestured to her empty chair. “Please?”
This is a bad idea, Tabitha, a little voice said as she re-took her seat. But she couldn’t tell what it was referring to. The tattoo had already begun. She’d already humiliated herself by getting jealous and horny and threatening to walk off like a little bitch. What was left to do? To ruin? To achieve?
She ducked her head, switched her machine back on and focused on her work. Toby settled back into the massage table and scrolled through his phone, this time without giving her any indication of what he was doing. Tabby made her way across the stencilled stag in swift, determined licks. Then the pulsing Deathpact song transitioned into ‘Dog’ by Payday, and she realised she’d made a fatal playlist error. Melancholy guitar strings accompanied Payday, singing about a guy who’d lied, who was pretending to be something he wasn’t, who—despite her protestations—she still clearly felt something for.
Tabby felt Toby watching her, and it was like her clothes had vanished, leaving her naked and lonely. The song rolled and soared, and she refused to meet his gaze as she worked even faster. High above the ocean, in this big empty mansion, she and Toby Tennant could have been the last two people on earth.
7
Maisy’s texts were coming thick and fast, one every few minutes.
HOW IS IT GOING!?!
WHAT IS SHE SAYING?!
Did you show her the Kruger print!?
DOES THE TATTOO HURT!?!?
ARE YOU IN FLAGRANTE!?!
He wanted to reply, but he didn’t want Tabby to see him texting another woman, and while the tattoo hurt, it wasn’t nearly as painful as the way he’d fucked this first meeting. What harebrained lack of foresight had provoked him to bring up the jet ski thing? Best case scenario he looked like a complete asshole. Worst case, he’d come off like a sad asshole, desperately trying to impress the hottest girl in his year level with his start-of-year stationery.Look at how many multi-colour highlighters I have!
