Free Deception by Evie Rose Page A

and head to the front door. Just before we leave, Tanya pulls the jacket off me and stuffs it in the hallway closet. “You won’t need this. It’s a girl’s night out and we’re going to have some fun.”
    She winks at me and I gaze nervously back in the direction of Joseph. “Stop worrying and let loose. Dance, show off that sexy body, shake what ya mumma gave you and have some fun. A little harmless flirting with the guys in the club isn’t cheating. It will make you feel good about yourself for a change.” So, she does see through my façade to some degree, she can obviously tell I’m unhappy.
    The cab driver beeps the horn again and I follow Tanya out the door, leaving my jacket and my worries behind. I am going to do this for me. For the first time in a long time, I am going to have a blast, while I have the chance.

Chapter Eight
    “Y outh is a blunder; Manhood a struggle, Old Age a regret.”
    Benjamin Disraeli
    Luke
    When I wake up and wander out to the kitchen, Jake is at the counter wearing a shit-eating-grin. “Sarah made pancakes.” Sarah made pancakes? My jaw drops to the floor.
    “She spent the whole day? And she has a name?” He ignores my question and instead pushes a plate towards me.
    “Shut up and eat.” I go to pick one up and laugh my ass off so hard it’s impossible to eat. They’re in the shape of hearts. I’m tempted to get the maple syrup and write ‘Jake loves Sarah’ on them. Instead, I recover and shovel the food down before getting ready for our night out.
    We start off the night by unwinding with a few beers at The Irish Tavern. Well Jake has the beers, because I don’t drink, I go all out on the soda though. I need all the caffeine I can get. One doesn’t sleep soundly when constantly being woken up by shouts of, “Who’s you’re daddy?” “You are.” So I’m rather tired after a crappy day’s rest. Why some guys get off on pretending to be a woman’s ‘daddy’ during sex, I will never understand. Disgusting. Jake’s a disgusting type of guy though, so I guess it fits.
    “You break.” I considerately allow Jake to begin the game of pool. If I don’t give him the first go, he probably won’t get one. I’m a kick-ass snooker player. No one else usually gets a shot in edgewise, not when I sink the balls one after the other.
    “Just a second.” He downs the rest of his beer in one gulp, and then picks up his cue. He holds it out in front of him, pretending it’s his dick as he walks around the table, earning himself a few strange looks from around the room in the process.
    “It makes sense you’d need an extension on your manhood, with how crappy your pool skills are and all,” I rib him.
    “Say’s the man who doesn’t even have any rum in his Coke.”
    “I just don’t want alcohol to cause me to act like a fool, similar to what you’re doing now.” He has no come back. He loves entertaining people with his antics. I’d say he’s proud of them even. Whirling his fake penis around in the air one last time, as though it’s a fire hose out of control, he laughs and takes his first shot. Which is absolutely terrible. I could’ve made the balls move further by blowing at them from all the way over here.
    “Laugh it up big guy. One day I’ll whoop your ass at this game. Right now I’m just trying to spare your feelings. Plus I don’t want to make you look bad in front of the ladies.”
    I’m sure that’s his reasoning. I laugh harder.
    As per usual, I keep taking hits until I’ve sunk every last ball. Jake has been texting on his phone the whole time, which is weird, because every other time we go out, he leaves it at home. He’s afraid he’ll lose it, while drunk out of his mind. He says he can’t see straight enough to press the right buttons while he’s blind. Which brings me to my question, why is he texting on it non-stop tonight?
    “You brought your phone?” I ask.
    “Yep,” he replies without explaining. To avoid any further