Remember Ivy from End Game? Well, she's back with her own story. But don't worry if you haven't read End Game, this can be read as a standalone.
We follow Ivy as she returns to London having been offered a job at Risk, the Kink Club owned by Za...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~ ~ Ivy ~ ~
Coming out the side door of Risk with my phone pressed tightly to my ear. I tried to hear what my mom was saying, but she had to contend with the onslaught of London traffic.
"Hold that thought, Mom," I interrupted. "Taxi..." I flagged down a black cab. Normally I caught the tube, but with the threatening rain clouds above there was no way was I risking walking, not to mention I was so fucking late.
I opened the cab door.
My clutch slipped from my fingers and my lip gloss and mirror fell out. "Fucking hell!" I muttered without thinking, hoping my mom wouldn't have heard me. Bending down, with my free hand, I collected the spillage and swiped it from the ground.
Shit. Now I had bits of grubby pavement on my favourite clutch. Shaking it off, I cursed again, rising to full height. "What the fuck?!!" My jaw dropped. "Sonofabitch!"
"Ivy Gertrude Simcox!" squealed my mom, and yeah, my middle name was Gertrude.
Busted.
But in the few seconds it took me to pick up the spilled contents of my bag, some mofo had slipped past me and stolen my cab ride. "What a Bitch..." forgetting my mom could still hear me.
"I know I raised my daughter better than that!" she growled down the phone. My mom was the sweetest person on the planet—but get on her wrong side and you knew about it.
Wincing. "Sorry, Mom." I looked left, then right for another cab. Trix was gonna murder me.
"Where did you learn such language?" She bristled. "I raised a lady, not some—some street harlot."
Mentally, I visualised her executing the sign of the cross and she'd be praying for me later. "Thank the lord your father. God rest his soul—never heard words like those come out your mouth." I heard her mutter.
Ugh, I hate it when she guilted me. "I don't normally swear, Mom...hardly ever." I lied.
If she heard the daily repertoire of my colourful language, she'd have taken a special flight over just to wash my mouth out with detergent. "But I'm late to Trix's big event and some." —Bitch— "Rude person, stole my cab!"
I looked up the street. Yessss! There was another black cab heading my way. Waving my clutch in the air, I hailed the black cab, relief filling my body when it pulled up in front of me as my mom continued her lecture. I placed my hand over my phone and gave the address to the cab driver.
"Ivy! You listening to me?"
"Yeah Mom. I'm eating right. Sleeping well. Brushing my teeth."
"Don't you be rolling your eyes at me."
What? She knew that? I crazily checked the cab for hidden cameras as she changed the conversation's direction.
"I talked to that nice young man, your boss, Zackary." She paused. "Does he have nice teeth?"
