Free Breaking Leila by Lucy V. Morgan Page B

complicated.”
    “They   were   hot, then.” He drew one hand away and bit his fist. “Man
sandwich!   How   much fun is it?”
    I sighed.
“That’s half the problem though…it was good. Really good. But my
boss wasn’t too pleased about the moonlighting, and he said I had
to finish any work I needed with him.”
    “Ooh, Daddy.”
He released my poor hands, patting them. “He wants control.”
    I nodded. “And
the other guy–Matt–asked me out on a date.”
    “Yikes. He
didn’t read the handbook, did he?”
    “Oh, it gets
better. My boss got me to screw his girlfriend last night, as one
of these last jobs. It’s fucked up, Aid. I was jealous. I don’t
know why, it’s not like I’m desperately in love with him or
anything…but I ended up at Matt’s.”
    “And you fucked
Matt, pretending he was your boss.”
    I laughed incredulously. “No. Well, I did   try   to fuck him but then my boss
rang me and Matt realized I’d been with him. And last night…it
seemed a good idea to send Matt some flowers, like some weird
gesture of condolence.” I put my head in my hands. “It’s
mortifying.”
    “Your life is
an HBO sitcom.”
    “I knew I could
count on you for support. Fag.”
    “I’m bi, you
retard.” He silenced me with a hand. “And don’t call me a ‘bag’
again–it doesn’t work, it’s embarrassing.”
    “You know what
else is embarrassing? I’m pretty sure I rang Will and begged him to
take me on again,” I groaned.
    “Desperation is
not attractive, Lei-Lei. How will you snare John if you’re
languishing in self-pity and vomit?”
    “There was no
vomit!”
    “Yet.” He
sighed. “It always comes.”
    “I do have some
class left, you know.” I hit the bottom of my glass and grimaced.
“It’s hard with your hedonistic influence, though.”
    Aidan
straightened his collar. “Actually, while we’re on the subject of
Will–I have something to tell you.”
    My eyes
widened. “Oh?”
    “Nothing dirty,
before you say. It’s about his wedding.”
    “No!” I
squealed. “You’re bailing out, aren’t you? Please tell me you
aren’t.”
    “I got my first
professional video! I’m dancing at a National Trust mansion with
Lily Allen–”
    “But you
promised,” I moaned. “Who am I meant to go with? I can’t take my
normal friends to my gay pimp’s wedding!”
    “Gay   ex   pimp.”
    “Like that
makes it better.”
    “Don’t worry,
it’s all sorted. I asked Metro Paul.”
    “But I don’t   want   to go with Metro Paul!” I
wailed. “He’s thinner than me.”
    “Beggars can’t
be choosers,” he said in that annoying sing-song voice. “Aren’t you
happy for me? I’m going to be famous. This could be my big
break.”
    “I thought you wanted to be   in famous.”
    “I’m pretty sure once I score Nikolai, I’ll have that one
covered. You know who you   should   ask.”
    “Who?”
    Oh no. He wore
the evil imp smile. “Matt.”
    “Don’t be
ridiculous. He’s weird about the whoring as it is.”
    “You keep saying you want   normal –that would be what his reaction is.”
    “He hates me,”
I mumbled.
    “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Jessica Rabbit? He
doesn’t hate you. He probably   wants   to,” he laughed, “but I’ll bet
you can bring him around–especially with lovely gestures like
flowers. What next, a spa day?”
    “Fuck off.”
    “Maybe just a
facial, then…”
    “I offered as
much last night, and he said no.” I sloshed my straw about in
melted ice.
    “Shall we get
more drinks?”
    “Hell yes. But maybe no more booze   pour vous –you’re awfully sweary already.” His eyes lit up.
“ Or   we could go
dancing.”
    “I’m not sure
I’m feeling that sorry for myself.”
    He grabbed my
hand and dragged me toward the door. “I’ll show you a few moves.
I’m a professional now, remember?”
    When I laid
eyes on the heaving mass of bodies in the club, I remembered why
whoring had seemed so attractive. The