Page 57 of The Story of Me
I do love her, like I told her, like I told her whole fucking family. I love the fuck out of her, but I’ve no right standing up in front of all of them and making promises I don’t know if I can keep.
I’ve pulled up on the side of the road and called Benny to go and check out my place. I’m worried that the paps will be waiting for us there. I don’t know if they realised it was me in the car with her, but I’m sure it won’t take much for the fuckers to find out. I yawn quietly. It’s so warm in the car; it’s making me feel tired, but I can’t have Kitten getting cold. I turn and look at her sleeping in the passenger seat next to me. She’s laid the seat back a bit and pulled her knees up, turned on her side and is facing me. My stomach churns and my heart rate speeds up and all I’ve done is look at her. I’m fucked, completely fucked where she’s concerned. She ruined me once and she has the potential to do it again, and I don’t know if I’d come back from it this time.
She was just a girl back then, a beautiful twenty-year–old, who thought she knew everything about love and life, and really, she had no fucking idea. Mind you, who am I to talk? I’m forty-fucking–two. I’ve just stood up in front of all her family, like a prick, and declared my undying love for her. I must’ve sounded like a complete Muppet. If I ever find out Bailey Layton tells anyone about what was said at Frank’s house today, I’ll have his balls, and I don’t care who it pisses off.
I yawn again and look at my phone. It’s only seven, but the warmth of the car and the jet lag are having an effect on me now too. All I want is to get her naked and in my bed. I don’t even care about fucking her. I just want to feel her skin on mine. I give a silent little laugh; that’s complete bullshit. I can’t wait to bury myself inside her. I’ve fucked a lot of women over the years, a lot of women, but none have tasted as good or felt as perfect to be inside as Georgia. I wish I could explain. I wish I could get my own head around what it is about her. She’s beautiful, yeah, that goes without saying. Her eyes are the most amazing shade of blue and in complete contrast to her dark hair and skin. She’s actually a bit skinnier than how I like my women, and to be honest, at the moment, I’d go as far as saying she’s actually bony, but she’s been through a lot and it’s obviously taken its toll. I know how that works. I have half an idea of what she’s been through this last year, but only half. I didn’t love Chantelle the way she loved Sean. She was obsessed with that boy. It’s like, she thought she needed him to breathe, yet here she is, surviving, getting by without him and herein lies my problem. How do I compete with a dead bloke, a fucking superstar rocker, loved and worshipped by millions, none more so than his wife? How do I compete with that? I can’t. I’m always gonna be second best. I’m always gonna wonder if we’re together just because he died. I’m not bitter towards him, Sean, in all honesty. I love the girl that much, that I would gladly die in his and their baby’s place, just to bring the light back into her eyes.
Two babies. I didn’t know until she said it earlier; they lost two babies. I let out a deep breath. How much pain and heartache can one person endure in a lifetime? Fuck, between the pair of us, we’ve lost one husband, one wife, three babies and had a parent murdered. That’s fucked, totally fucked. I want to make her happy. I want her face to light up when she sees me. When I call her, I want to hear in her voice that she’s happy to hear from me. Fuck, I want her to be ecstatic and I don’t know that I will ever be that to her. I don’t know if I will ever be ‘the one’. She’s told me she loves me, but I know her. I remember how idealistic she is about love. I remember how convinced she was that she could never love anyone other than Sean, but then that night in my office, all those years later, she admitted to me, that she’d loved me, that she’d always loved me and I don’t want her just falling back on that, thinking because Sean’s dead, that I’m her only option.
I adjust myself as I’ve got a fucking hard on now thinking about that night in my office. God, that was one of the best fucks of my life, bare back, nothing between us. She’s the only bird other than my wife I’ve ever fucked without a condom in my life. So how the fuck is Tamara pregnant with my kid? Well, that thought sorted the hard on out at least. I can’t believe that Tam would lie to me about something like that, but at the end of the day, she’s got a habit, an expensive habit and most junkies are liars. In fact, I would go as far as to say, all junkies are liars. Don’t get me wrong, if the baby’s mine, I’ll hold my hands up. I’ll pay for whatever costs are involved in raising a child and I’ll be hands on and a part of their life. I just wish that the situation was different, that Tamara wasn’t the mother.
I look at Georgia’s beautiful form curled up like a kitten, my Kitten, and wish that it was her belly my baby was growing in. My throat, my chest and my balls tighten at that thought. I wanna cry. She actually makes me wanna cry. I wanna love her, worship her, make her mine. I wanna take away all her pain and replace it with love, happiness, rainbows and fucking unicorns, whatever it takes. I want to give her babies to love and nurture. I wanna give her the world, but until I can be sure she’s not gonna rip out my heart and walk away again, I can’t give her any of that. Right now, I’m scared that even touching her will be too much, will take me to a place that I won’t ever come back from. I need to stop thinking like a cunt. I’m Cameron fucking King, East End bad boy, turned respectable night club owner and international playboy according to the papers. I need to start thinking about all the women around the world that do want me and not worrying about what I’m gonna do if the skinny little thing curled up next to me don’t.
She stirs and moves slightly, and now I can see her bra and I’m fucking hard again. I look away, for about all of five seconds. I can’t help it. I have to look again. It’s black and lacy and just covers her nipple. “Ahhh God,” I groan out loud. I’m acting like a twelve-year-old getting his first glimpse of a real tit. Actually, I was only ten when I saw my first real pair. Sandra McQueen they belonged to. Robbie was fucking her in the toilets over the park and I walked in on them. Robbie told her to flash me so I’d go away. Two years later, I was in the same bog with her getting my first wank. Then on my thirteenth birthday, Rob gave her a can of Diamond White to give me a blow job. About six months later, she let me fuck her for free. Sandra McQueen, I wonder what ever happened to her?
My eyes wander back to the person curled in my passenger seat. A million thoughts rush through my mind, a million feelings rush through my heart. I’m so out of my comfort zone here. All this emotional bollocks, about a bird, it just ain’t my thing. When she left before, I just got pissed up and shit faced to numb the pain. Then, once I’d dried out and detoxed, the doctor gave me some tablets. No idea what they were, but basically I felt like I was on a gram of whiz a day. I had so much energy that I was able to throw myself into work. I sold Kings and started looking for premises to start something new, and for ten years I’d been fine. I was off the meds and feeling fine; the clubs were doing well. Sydney was in the pipe line and women were falling at my feet. Threesomes, foursomes, even a couple of orgies and anything went. Most of them were up for anything, some of them wanted some proper kinky stuff. I don’t mind a bit of bondage, and I’m pretty good with a paddle and a whip; there’s just something about watching a woman’s skin turn pink and hearing them moan with pleasure as you slap their arse, dipping a finger inside along the way, but I draw the line at bodily fluids; that ain’t a result of being horny. Shit and piss just ain’t my thing. The rest is all right though.
My phone buzzes in my lap. I’ve put it on silent so I don’t wake up sleeping beauty.
“What’s happening, Ben?”
“Yeah, you were right boss. There was about eight of them waiting but we’ve give ‘em the nod that you’ve gone to a travel lodge near Lakeside and they’ve all cleared out, but you better get back here sharpish in case they come back.”
“Cheers, Ben, wait in the car park for us just in case. I’m about ten minutes away.”
Chapter Seventeen
Georgia
I open my eyes to the sensation of the back of Cam’s finger stroking my face. My eyes instantly lock with his as they open. He’s so close. I would only have to move a fraction and my lips would be on his, and to be honest, I really don’t know if that’s what he wants from me. I know he stood up in front of my family and said that he did, but I just get the feeling that he doesn’t, and apart from that, we still need to discuss the big fat elephant in the room: the pregnant girlfriend.
“Wake up, Kitten. We’re here and we need to move. The press were here earlier, but Benny managed to get rid of them, but there might still be a couple hanging about.”
“What?” I ask as I try and process everything he’s just told me. “Benny still works for you?” is all that I manage and he smiles at me for some reason.
“You remember Benny?”
I nod. “Of course I remember Benny.” He looks at me for a long moment.
“Stay put until I come around and open your door. I just wanna check there’s none of the fuckers still lurking about.” I smile at him and his protectiveness.
“Go get the fuckers, Tiger.” He raises his eyebrows and I know he’s about to say something about me swearing when we are both startled by a commotion outside. We’re in an underground car park of some kind. It’s fairly well lit and I can see who I think is Benny and two other men trying to stop a photographer from getting any closer to Cam’s car.
“Fuck,” Cam says as he climbs out. He comes around to my side and helps me out. I pull the hood of my tracksuit jacket up and keep my head down as he walks me to the elevator. He swipes a card and the door opens instantly. We step in. He enters a number into the keypad and we shoot up. The speed makes my stomach churn, and I wonder for a moment if I’m going to be sick. We stop abruptly and I feel myself sway. “Fuck,” is all I hear from Cam as everything goes fuzzy. I feel him lift me up and walk with me. After a few seconds, he sits down still holding me. I don’t pass out. I just feel light headed and my legs and arms feel like jelly. I open my eyes and he’s looking down at me. My belly gives the loudest rumble and I raise my eyebrows and bite my lip as I try not to smile at the gurgling sounds coming from inside me.
“Kitten, when the fuck was the last time you ate?” Oh, shit.
“I had a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits at my mum’s earlier.” Hopeful that he’ll consider biscuits food.
“And before that?”
I shrug. “A bag of nuts and some Pringles on the plane.”
He shakes his head. “Real food, Georgia, when was the last time you ate anything containing any kind of nutritional value?” I close my eyes and pretend I can’t hear or see him.
“Stop talking about food. You’re making me feel sick.”
“You’ve not fucking eaten since Saturday night, have you?” I ignore him. “For fuck’s sake, Georgia, that was over two days ago. You can’t not eat for two fucking days. That’s just ridiculous. You’ll fucking die. You’ll starve to fucking death.”
