“That’s it for today. Wow, you did so well,” Becky with the good hair or whatever her name was told me from the app in my pocket.
“Piss off and die, you little bitch troll from hell!” I yelled at her but deep down I was glad I’d made my daily target. “Come on, Kenny. No, put that down. Don’t eat it! For fuck’s sake!”
I walked through my front door ten minutes later and promptly collapsed my sweaty body onto the floor of my kitchen. Kenny licked the sweat off me. “Kenny, stop,” I said, weakly. I knew if I didn’t tell him off, he’d start licking in some private areas, and I didn’t want to be up on a bestiality charge.
From inside my pocket, my phone began to buzz. Christ, why did people insist on calling me? Had I not given off enough of anI hate you, leave me alonevibe?
I saw the name of the person calling. It was only 9 a.m., and already my day was turning out horribly.
“Hi Ollie,” I said and rolled over onto my front, pushing Kennedy’s exploring nose from my shorts.
“Hello? Why do you sound like that?”
“I’ve been running.”
“Really?”
“Do not sound incredulous or I will hang up on you,” I warned.
“Ooh, touchy-touchy. Anyway, I’m calling to see if you’re free for lunch?”
I perked up, slightly panicked. “You’re in the neighbourhood? Or am I supposed to be in London?”
“No, I’m in Bristol. Stayed over last night after a client meeting that ran into the small hours. I’ve been up and working again since six this morning and am knackered. I’m taking the afternoon off as a quasi-long weekend.”
“Is it Friday?” I asked. I’d lost all track of time. All I did was run and edit my latest book to the sadistic wishes of Verity, my agent, and my editor, Hortensia. Verity would dangle news of a possible TV adaptation deal of my books in front of me whenever my mood darkened, which was, frankly, becoming a joke. We’d had one meeting with some executives months ago and then never heard from them again.
“Yes, of course, it is. Have you been drinking?” he said.
“No.” I pushed Kennedy’s investigating nose away again and got up to open the fridge to find him some food. Mostly so he’d stop sniffing me in places I normally only let people into after the third date. “Just busy.”
“Ha. Well, anyway, I’ll be done in about an hour or so here, and then my self-declared half-day begins. Howwould you feel if I took the long way back to London and stopped in to see you? We could have lunch at the pub in your village.”
“Pub’s closed,” I blurted out.
“It’s not,” Ollie said.
“I live here, I think I know it’s closed.”
“Then how come it had a ‘grand reopening’ party last weekend, which was on Twitter?”
“Because the internet is fake news.”
“Come on, it’s a beautiful day. Going to be a scorcher apparently, with this heatwave. Why not spend it in the beer garden with me? I’ll pay and everything.”
“I don’t know, I’ve got loads to do.” It was a lie.
“That’s a lie. Arden Forrest has never been too busy for anything. Dropping everything to focus on something new is your preferred way to live.”
“Fine. But let’s not go to the pub, I could meet you halfway? Oh, why don’t we go to Bath? Bath’s nice and has loads of restaurants.”
“Because you don’t live in Bath, and I want to see your village.”
“No, you don’t. It’s a shithole. Right awful dump. Potholes, casual racism, horse shit all over the street. It’s feudal.”
“Can’t be worse than south London,” he said.
“I—”
