Page 72 of Marley
“Mother? What the fuck has she got to do with anything?”
“Ash works for her and Georgia.”
Well fuck, she hadn’t mentioned that.
“I haven’t upset her. She’s out cold on my bathroom floor right now, covered in her own spew.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Len uttered his favourite response to most things I told him. I could hear Jimmie asking who it was in the background.
“Len, put Jim on. I need to talk to her. “The anxiety that was snaking it’s why up my spine was now bubbling in my chest and I paced as I heard Len passing the phone over to Jim.
“Please don’t fuck my friend, Marls. She’s had a tough enough life as it is, she doesn’t need you doing your usual fuck and run and breaking her heart.”
“Jim, she’s been sick and it’s everywhere. I don’t know what to do. What if she wakes up and she thinks I touched her? They won’t believe me again, Jim. I’m not a rapist, but the papers won’t care, they’ll write shit about me again.”
I felt like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks. The panic, hurt, and anger I’d felt at the comments made in the press and by others in our industry when Haley White made her accusations came clawing their way to the surface. I’d shrugged it all off at the time, had another drink, snorted another line, but it hurt. It fucking hurt and I didn’t want to feel like that again, not ever.
“Marley, calm down, babe...”
“I’m not a fucking rapist, Jim. She spewed up over her party frock so I took it off her and put it in the machine. I put her in one of my T-shirts and a pair of boxers, but she’s done it again and it’s all in her hair this time. It’s fucking everywhere, but I never touched her, Jim, I swear I never touched her.”
I was crying like a fucking princess, I was crying.
What the fuck was that all about?
“Marls, listen to me. You’re not a rapist, and no one thinks that. She doesn’t think that. Now calm the fuck down.”
I took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I could actually feel my balls and dick shrivelling and being replaced with a vagina over my breakdown.
“I love you, Marley Layton. You’re a good person, and don’t you ever forget that. Now, go run a shower, get Ash in it and wash the puke out of my friend’s hair. If you have to take her top off, try and do it in a non-pervi way.”
“Jim, she’s out fucking cold, dead to the world. I might like things a bit kinky, but I’m not into fucking girls who are passed out, I can assure you.”
“That’s good to hear, Marls. Now, go turn on the shower. I’ll stay on the line in case she wakes up and freaks out.”
After putting the phone down on the side of the sink, I turned on the shower and lifted Ashley up and sat her down again in the corner to let the water run over her. She tilted her face up into it and mumbled a few things that I couldn’t understand. Leaving the boxers on, I pulled the T-shirt over her head and washed her hair, her arms, and her legs. Her tits were staring me in the face. My arm and even my hand brushed against them a couple of times. I had a hard-on the whole time and felt like the worst person on earth. She was fucking gorgeous. Even in this sorry state of hers, she did things to me.
I wrapped her in the biggest towel I could find and carried her out to my bed and laid her down.
“She’s clean. She woke up a bit, but wasn’t making any sense.” I told Jimmie when I got back on the phone.
“Okay, well done. Put her in another one of your T-shirts. Give her hair a comb and tie it back if you can find an elastic band, and keep her lying on her side. She’s gonna be mortified in the morning so go easy on her, Marls. She puts on a big brave front, but she’s soft as shit and has a heart of gold under that mouthy bird she makes out to be.”
“Jim?” I whisper quietly.
“What Marls?”
“I like her. I mean, like ... I really like her.”
My mouth feels as dry as a nuns mildred as I try to get the words out. (Sorry God, nuns, and all you religious types, but you get what I’m saying here, right?)
“I know Marls. I knew it as soon as I saw the way you looked at her in the club. Don’t fuck this up. Now go sort her out and get some sleep. Love ya.” She hung up before I said any more.
I went and found a comb and combed her long blonde hair as best I could, then dressed her once again in a T-shirt and boxers of mine.
I laid her on her side, facing me, and watched her sleep as my thoughts raced, my stomach churned, and my heart? My heart did not have a clue what had just hit it.
This little blonde thing had gotten to me. I’d looked after her, washed and dried her, made sure she was safe, and I wanted nothing more in return, other than to get to spend more time with her.
