Maneater Page 4

  “No way,” I declare, shaking my head. “Spiders and cockroaches are pests, and they all must die. The only nice spider in the world was Charlotte from Charlotte’s Web.”

  Nothing better than hearing the popping sound of treading on a dirty, disgusting cockroach.

  ***

  I’m an independent, single girl. Who needs a man to kill an insect?

  ***

  After discarding the spider, cleaning the floor, scrubbing my hands, and eating some chocolate to calm and chill, I have an awesome idea.

  “Come to Westfield with me, Rox?” I suddenly need some retail therapy.

  Her face brightens, and she nods, smiling. “Yep! When have I ever refused a shopping spree?” she replies, poking out her tongue. She disappears into her room to change out of her track pants.

  Ten minutes later, we are both ready to go.

  We jump in my cruisey hatchback, and I zip through the traffic, which is actually not too bad for a Sunday. Parking at the mall, on the other hand, is terrible; we drive around and around. Eventually, we stalk a family and wait while they pack their minivan. I smile and thank them as they drive out—even if they did take their sweet-arse time.

  “They totally need more car spots. Who in their right mind built this place with only limited parking? It’s just designed to piss us off then we end up buying more, needing the stress relief,” Roxy states, and I nod in agreeance.

  “Well played, builders, well played,” I declare.

  We walk up the stairwell and through the sliding doors to the shops. Without words, we both head into our favourite make-up store ever: Sephora. It’s an unspoken rule that we always go there first; hence, why I park on the second level.

  “I desperately need a new make-up brush, and I’m thinking a different shade of eyeshadow,” I declare as we browse the hundreds of brushes then shades of eyeshadow.

  I eventually opt for a shiny silver colour. Sure, I have silver, but this one is more of a shimmer my others are matte grey or charcoal.

  “That colour will look perfect on you, Jem. Oh, and I think you should choose a different pink lipstick to go with it while we are here,” Roxy suggests, and I have to agree with her. Nothing better than the perfect pink lips with silver eyeshadow.

  Now to find one I don’t already have.

  After at least twenty minutes of searching the different well known brands, the assistant shows me a new brand that just released last week.

  It’s like fate as I’m looking at the most stunning shade of pink lipstick.

  Playful Pink is the name on the tube, and it’s just gorgeous. A girl can never have enough lipstick.

  “I’m going to grab this black liquid eyeliner. I like how thick the pencil is, should give a thicker line. I swear mine just evaporates,” Roxy tells me, and I nod. Bloody make-up, it does evaporate. It makes me wonder how much actually enters our eyeballs and how good that can really be for our retinas.

  “Witchery next?” I suggest as we pay for our purchases.

  “Yep, great idea, slut guts,” Roxy answers in her sarcastic, playful manner.

  “Oh, any chance you feel like grabbing a quick pedi afterwards?”

  “I’ve been neglecting my feet, and this polish has been on my toes for way too long,” Roxy declares, and I have to agree; my toenail polish has pretty much all scraped off.

  “This is why we are best friends; it’s like you live inside my mind,” I say sarcastically.

  After Witchery, we go up one level to a nail salon I have used in the past.

  With ten foot spas, they get us seated right away, and we soak our tired, neglected feet.

  The nail ladies don’t speak much English, but they are good at their jobs. Wonder if they secretly joke about toe sizes and foot odour?

  “Choose colour,” they say, handing us both a colour chart with hundreds of colour options.

  Decisions, decisions.

  I’m definitely going pink, though, to match my new lipstick.

  “This colour, please,” I say, pointing at shade twenty-six.

  “I’ll have shade eleven,” Roxy tells her nail technician and then shows me. It’s a glossy purple colour and totally suits her.

  “I’m thinking this colour will be perfect with my jeans and black top. Did I tell you I have a date with that Dylan guy Neeta knows?” she declares, and I smile. She deserves to be happy.

  While we get our feet scrubbed and massaged and our nails trimmed, filed, and painted, we chat.

  “Sounds good. Just remember, all men want in your pants. If they don’t, they are gay or might have an STD.” I joke with Roxy. She is pretty much on the same wavelength as I am with men. They use and abuse and are all good for one thing.

  “What happened with that Dan guy?” she questions me, and I roll my eyes.

  “Working interstate or something,” I reply, and she shrugs. We can all try to figure out other people’s minds, but at the end of the day, no one knows the truth but Dan. Maybe he will contact me again …

  “Sushi Train?” I suggest as we pay for our pedicures.

  “Yep, I’m famished,” Roxy states, and we go back down to the bottom level and find the food court.

  It’s getting on to closing time as we head to the car park after a great few hours shopping, getting pampered, and enjoying food together.

  As we head down the staircase, I feel uneasy all of a sudden, like there’s someone behind me. I grab Roxy’s hand, still totally unsure if I’m imagining something or if in fact someone is behind me. But I’m a little scared to turn around.

  Roxy glances over at me, and we both freeze. My suspicions are right; a guy is walking behind us. Crap… he really shouldn’t be as close as he is.

  He looks like he is in his early twenties and is wearing an Adidas tracksuit with the hood up, looking extremely suspicious.

  “Run,” I say quietly to Roxy, still unsure if he is a bad guy. Shit, he could be walking to his car too, but I’m not taking any chances.

  We start to run, and his footsteps chase after us. Holy shit.

  He is now super close to me, and I feel my bag being yanked from my arm. Fuck that, he’s not getting my Ralph Lauren handbag, purse, and phone.

  “Let go!” I scream as I turn and pull hard on my leather handbag.

  “Security, security,” Roxy screams, trying to hopefully get us some help or even just to scare the freak off.

  “Just give me the goddamn bag, bitch,” he shouts, still pulling on my bag.

  I refuse to give him my belongings. Adrenaline surging, I kick him hard in his knee then his groin, and as he moans, I give a forceful shove, and he relents, letting go of my bag.

  He doesn’t stop, though; he takes a few steps towards me, and I throw punches repeatedly at his face.

  Roxy follows my lead, kicking his other leg, and as he falls to the ground, her nails are on his cheek. We turn and sprint towards my car, not looking back until we are inside with the car locked.

  With perfect timing, two security guards come running up from the first level and catch the guy as he tries to sprint away. They hold his hands behind his back and push him into the wall.

  We are both shaken and breathless. “Fucking hell,” I say as Roxy grabs my hand and squeezes it. What a scary situation.

  “We kicked his arse,” Roxy declares, adding humour to the not-so-nice situation, and we both laugh. I would love to see us kicking and punching him on a video replay.

  “Yep, we sure did. We make a perfect fighting team. Don’t mess with Thorne and Donovan,” I state, and we sit for the next ten minutes catching our breath, knowing that we will need to answer a few questions. I totally want that guy charged!

  A police car arrives fifteen minutes later, and two officers make their way over to the car. “Let’s hop out and talk to them,” I suggest, and Roxy nods.

  “You girls all right? Bit shaken?” the first officer questions. He has a full beard but kind, brown eyes that calm me a little.

  �
��Yep, definitely shaken,” I reply truthfully.

  “Can you run me through what happened?” he asks as he takes out his notepad.

  “Yep. We were heading to our car. I thought someone was behind us, and when we turned around, that man was following us.” I point at the crazy psycho who is now handcuffed. “We freaked out and started to run to the car. When he started to chase us, I knew something wasn’t right, and then the bastard grabbed my bag.”

  “The security guards said you fought him off?” the second officer, who is much younger with glasses, asks us.

  “Yep, we tried; we both kicked him in the knees, punched him, and Roxy scratched his face until he finally let go of my bag.”

  “Girls, you were very brave, but we always recommend letting the thieves have your valuables to avoid being hurt. You are very lucky he let go,” the bearded officer states.

  “You both should know right now he is extremely high on the drug ice. He also had a knife in his back pocket,” he adds, and we freeze in shock.

  “Holy shit, he could have stabbed us. What was I thinking, fighting back?” I say, feeling even more shaken knowing we could have easily had knife wounds.

  “I want him charged with attempted robbery,” Roxy declares, and I nod as she puts her arm around me.

  What a fucking way to spoil the perfect afternoon of shopping and pedicures.

  “Yes, he will be charged, the evidence is on the video surveillance tape. I need you ladies to come to the police station and fill out some details, and I can file the paperwork that will be mailed to you,” he states to us, and I’m so grateful for that camera.

  We spend thirty minutes filling out frustrating documents. Then forty-five minutes later, we are driving home, exhausted and relieved it’s over.

  “I need a hot shower after that,” Roxy states, and I nod, hoping that will help this knot in my stomach.

  As I park my car and head into our apartment, I find myself looking over my shoulder, waiting for something, feeling paranoid. Finally inside, I lock the door and feel safer.

  Roxy has first shower as I call my mum and fill her in on what happened.

  “Oh Jemma, that’s terrible! You okay, honey?” she asks, sounding concerned. She’s not the most caring person on the planet, but it’s nice to hear her ask if I’m all right. “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, I’m okay, Mum. I’m about to have a shower, and Roxy and I are going to spend the night watching romantic comedies on Netflix. We need something to cheer us up.” I assure her we will be okay; I just hope my words are truthful.

  “Okay, sweetheart. I’m actually off to my yoga class so that worked out well,” she adds in typical mum fashion.

  “Thanks, Mum. I’ll be fine.”

  “I love you, Jemma,” she declares sweetly, making me smile a much-needed smile.

  “Love you too, Mum,” I reply and hang up the phone, now eager for the shower.

  I don’t admit it to my mum, but even her non-maternal type hug would be pretty damn good right about now.

  Even better, a strong man hug.

  Somehow, I can’t imagine the Rock giving me a comforting hug.

  Then I think back to the morning after I met Dan, when I was lying in his arms. He even gave me a squeeze. That felt safe and secure; I never thought I needed a guy in my life, but sometimes, just sometimes a man in my life actually sounds perfect.

  Just sometimes…

  ***

  After my long, hot shower, ironically enough, my phone beeps.

  It’s a number I recognise but didn’t save.

  Hi Jemma.

  It’s Dan, I’m away with work but wanted to say hi.

  Wow, he is trying again. I’m impressed by his determination. I guess a quick hi won’t hurt.

  Me:

  Hi Dan.

  Hope your work trip isn’t too boring.

  Dan:

  It is pretty boring, but my night is better now I’m chatting with you.

  I smile from his sweet words that somehow chatting with me has improved his boring night. This is such a welcome distraction.

  Me:

  One thing I’m definitely not is boring.

  Dan:

  Oh, I know that. I’m still remembering your “nonboring” bedroom antics from last weekend. Lol

  I giggle at his reply. Oh yes, my bedroom antics, the deep throating gets them every time. Time to make this conversation much more interesting.

  Me:

  Oh yes, I remember the moans coming from you. I also remember just how good your cock felt inside me.

  He started it with the bedroom antics. I don’t do subtle. I’m sure from the use of the word cock, he’s now hard as a rock.

  Dan:

  Damn, woman. At least get me hard when I’m in the same state and can pay you a visit.

  Me:

  I’m sure you can take care of yourself. I would however be happy to help. But unlucky with you out of town. Maybe another time…

  Dan:

  No maybe about it. I’m back next week, and you are coming over!

  Me:

  We’ll see.

  Dan:

  I’ve gotta go, Jemma. You will hear from me again very soon, gorgeous lady.

  Me:

  Bye, Dan.

  Don’t work too HARD…

  Ha-ha, I crack myself up. That’s a pun if I’ve ever heard one; he would be hard right now, probably in the shower taking care of it as we speak, so let’s hope his phone is waterproof…

  The whole “come over next week” thing, as long as it’s purely physically, sounds like a plan.

  Chapter 6

  Rockin’ with the Rock

  I thought after the fun texting with Dan, my mind would stop racing, but no, I’ve been sleeping so badly the past couple of days. I keep seeing that scary man’s face, but last night, I dreamt he actually had a hold of me; I was screaming and shaking. What a bad nightmare; he had me pinned to the ground, it was awful. I woke up covered in sweat and crying.

  I didn’t tell Roxy or anyone else about it. I just wanted to forget it ever happened.

  I just wanted life to go back to normal. I could deal with normal.

  For the next few days, I manage to keep busy. Work is hectic, but it’s such a welcome busyness, as it’s keeping my mind occupied. By Thursday, the lack of sleep is catching up with me. Coffee number three is going down extremely well.

  “We have two surgeries today, ladies. Jack the bulldog is getting neutered and Molly the black Persian is having an abscess on her leg drained,” Tony announces at lunch as we fill out our morning charts and prepare for what is ahead.

  “Wash up, ladies. The first surgery is at 1:00 p.m. I need Jemma and Crystal,” Tony orders, and we both nod, finishing our coffees and sandwiches. I quickly use the bathroom then notice it’s 12:40, so I scrub my hands, find surgery aprons for myself and Crystal, and set up the sterilised equipment for Tony to perform the neutering.

  At 12:50, Crystal and Tony come into the room to scrub up and prepare.

  “Nice work as always, Jemma,” he declares, noticing we are all ready to go.

  “I’ll go and grab Jack if you like?” I question, eager to get underway.

  “Yep, go get the little fella,” Tony replies.

  After checking the cages, I find Jack the very cute chubby bulldog in cage number six. He is sound asleep, totally oblivious to the fact that he will soon be lacking in the balls department.

  “Hey there, buddy, you are a tubby guy. Are you ready for your snip-snip?” I question him, not really expecting a response, but I love talking to these little animals. His droopy eyes open, but his body doesn’t move. Lazy little fella.

  I cradle him in my arms and give him a big cuddle; he responds by licking my face.

  God, animals are gorgeous, not arseholes like people; they don’t hurt you or complicate things, and they love unconditionally.

  ***

  The first surgery goes well; Jack should be a
wake in around thirty minutes.

  We have a thirty-minute break before we prep Molly the black Persian for her abscess draining. My guess is she has been in a fight. We see it a lot with cats; when another feline scratches them, it gets infected and forms an abscess. This one is very inflamed and full of puss. Finally, Tony gets the last bit out and covers the hole with betadine bacterial wash. The relief for Molly will be evident when she wakes.

  That’s another reason I love my job. Taking away the pain from these little guys is so important; getting them well and healed is such a relief, and it warms my heart.

  The rest of the afternoon flies. Karly is on the afternoon shift and we only have two more clients.

  Once we clean up and lock up, it’s still light outside, one thing I love about summer. Winter is depressing when you leave work and it’s dark.

  Tony always comes back later after surgeries to check on the animals of course, to make sure there are no complications; the perk of living five minutes down the road. Sometimes, he brings one of his girls; they love the interactions with each animal.

  I arrive home to an empty house and head for the shower. Animal fur has a way of getting into my sinuses, so I like to get it all off and relax. I’m still thinking about my busy day and the two surgeries; no unwelcome thoughts have surfaced, thank God.

  I’m in a towel when I hear my phone beep. I check the message and am surprised when I see the name.

  The Rock:

  I’m back, come on over.

  I can’t help but smile; his messages always make me smile and usually make me wet just at the thought of what usually comes next …

  Jemma:

  You can’t just click your fingers, and I’ll come running, you know.

  The Rock:

  All I saw in that message was fingers and come. You know you want it.

  Jemma:

  You know me well. Maybe tomorrow.

  I literally have to force myself to type those words and hold myself back from driving to his place right this second. I am horny as hell, and knowing just how good he is in every area … God, I’m dying.

  The Rock:

  I’m busy tomorrow.

  Jemma:

  Maybe next week.