Page 22 of The B!tch List

“He’s happy to do it.”

“Hardly happy, Bronte,” I sighed.

She shrugged. “In this case the devil isnotin the detail, honey. Now, let’s get Belinda in here and make your offer.”

“But I haven’t sold my apartment yet,” I protested. “I need equipment and an initial layout for staff.”

Bronte thrust her hands to her hips. “Do you want this place or not?” I nodded because I couldn’t deny it. “You have enough money to get the building, right?” I nodded again. “So, let’s just make sure we get it and then think about the rest later.”

“Okay. But I’m not positive Shaw representing me is the right thing. He obviously said something about me that you weren’t happy with.”

She waved me away. “Let’s just say he needs to consider the language he uses in front of a lady, and I will be having words with him later.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Okay, Belinda, we’re ready for you.”

Bronte certainly was a force to be reckoned with, but if she could help me to secure the bank then what did I care. It was just a pity it looked like I was going to have to take help from her brother too.

Nancy’s Bitch List for Shaw

Maximus Douchimus

Captain Shitsmear

Shit Talking Cock Womble

Dildohead

When I’d woken up from a great night’s sleep, I had no idea what was about to hit me like a Mac truck. I’d yawned, stretched, scratched my balls, contemplated jacking off but decided I’d prefer to eat breakfast and get ready for work. Then just as I was getting into my car, my phone rang out, blowing my mind.

Distracted by Mom yelling at me to make sure I picked up her dry cleaning from town on my lunchbreak, I answered it without looking to see who the caller was.

“Yup.”

“Shaw? Shaw Jackson?”

“This is he. Who am I speaking with?”

The person on the other end let out a shaky breath. “My name is Aurelia Devonshire, Monique Devonshire’s mother.”

I sat back against the seat with a bump and stared out through the windshield. Wow, I hadn’t heard from or about Monique since she’d run off with our history professor after he’d got her pregnant over a year and a half ago. It had obviously been pretty big gossip for a while, but mainly because he was married to the Dean who was just about to star in her own reality TV show about running an Ivy League college.

“Okay,” I replied. “And?”

Thinking about Monique and Professor Ritter didn’t boil my piss any longer. I knew it was good riddance; I mean could I really see myself settling down with a woman who didn’t eat grilled cheese sandwiches and hated Elvis Presley? No way!

“There’s no easy way to say this, but Monique has passed away.”

I may not have had feelings for her any longer, but I felt my heart drop to my stomach and my mouth went dry.

Dead.

How the fuck could she be dead? She was my age. People in their early twenties didn’t die.

“H-how?” I managed to stutter out.

“Aggressive bone cancer.” Monique’s mom drew in a breath and was silent for a beat. Then she rushed out. “You need to take custody of your daughter.”

“Wait, what?” I bolted forward, my chest colliding with the steering wheel. “I don’t know what she told you, but her baby was not mine.”

“I know she claimed it was Jonathan Ritter’s but I’m afraid a DNA test says differently. Besides which he’s never wanted anything to do with Tia. All he was interested in was getting my daughter into bed and then enticing her from her future with promises of marriage. He wasn’t even divorced.”

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