Page 13 of The Loathing

“Get her a babysitter.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know, you’ve said that twice now.”

The annoyance that is his voice is stirring something deep inside of me.

“You’re annoying me.”

“Thank you,” I can hear the slither of a smile in his voice, he finds this amusing.

Silence falls between us.

“So, Sunday.”

“No.”

“Titty, I need you here for Amora. It’s not safe. You have a daughter, so you’ve repeated throughout our communication today, put yourself in my shoes…”

“I did put myself in your shoes, hence why I accepted this fucking job. But the terms were that she was coming here.”

“Yeah, well, things change, so do terms.”

“No,” I shake my head as if he can see me.

“I’ll double the price.”

“N...” I stammer, “what!?”

“That’s how much I need you here. I don’t fucking beg Tit, but this is as close as you’ll get to hearing me attempt to beg.”

I swallow, thickness coating my throat as I try and swallow again.

“You’ll double it?”

“I will, if you get on the plane on Sunday and come to England. A car will be there waiting for you.”

I contemplate his offer for a moment, rubbing my chin softly but the stubble causes a little friction against my skin.

“Fine, Sunday. Send me the details.” And before he can respond, I cut the phone off.

“Asshole.”

“Who’s an asshole?” my ray of sunshine appears, her beautiful face full of pillow creases, as she yawns.

“Xavier, the prick I took a job for,” I rub the knot out of my neck that seems to have suddenly appeared.

“Oh, is this the girl that is coming here?”

“Was coming here,” I grit, my jaw clenched.

She floats over to the refrigerator and grabs a soft drink, unscrewing the cap. She is still wearing her pyjamas, yawning she brings the bottle to her lips.

“They want me to go to England.”

She chokes on her drink, her eyes widening.

“England?”

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