Adam's Apple Pie

Four - Once You Have...

To say I was in a foul mood when I got home would be the understatement of the fucking century! What the fuck was up with that today? Sandra and Gavin breaking my balls was bad enough, but Richard? Having the nerve to tell me how to fucking act? I got a gold medal for acting when I was twelve years old, I KNOW how to act! Why the fuck would they even cast me for this role if they were just going to treat me like shit? Even during my audition, Gavin didn't seem to care, it was like I wasn't even there.

By the time I got back home, I was too angry to cook – even though my stomach was screaming for food. I thought about ordering a takeout, but I remembered I was skint and payday was another week or so away. Luckily, I still had some apple pie that Dr Eve made me, so I heated that up. One bite of this was more than enough to make my anger vanish. I don't know what it was about this pie that made it so good, but I doubt I could describe it to you in any form. Even the pastry was heaven. The best way I could describe it was imagine the first time you had sex, times it by thousand and that might come close.

I tried to do a bit of writing, which was in itself was a bit of a problem, due to the noise outside. I could tell from the shouts that it was teenagers that were drunk or on drugs (probably both), but that was par for the course in the area. My apartment was right smack in the middle of the high street, just above a vape store – with a few pubs down the road. Each night was a cacophony of drunken idiots, smashing glass and police sirens. To be fair, none of the idiots gave me any hassle, because I usually kept my windows closed at night. Last thing I wanted was for them to see that someone was living here. And god help you if you try to sleep here – unless you consider the above like a lullaby. It also didn't help that the heating only seemed to work when it bloody wanted to, and sometimes getting my toilet to flush was a big problem. The only thing that seemed work okay was the WIFI, but I couldn't tell you why.

No one would live here by choice unless there was no other option. Even the estate agent that sold me this place looked shocked that I would take it. I kept telling myself it would get better once I became a famous author – but then I'd grown out of that fantasy years ago.

I put on my headphones to try and cancel out the noise, but it only did so much. I think I must have only written half a chapter or so before I decided to check my emails for any agent responses. I had ten. All NO. Even though this had become par for the course, that didn't mean that I didn't hope it would change. I felt so depressed even the last few bites of my apple pie couldn't help. I tried to get back to writing, but my frustration prevented me from doing anything but a few lines. How long had I been working on this book now? You think I would have had some interest in it by now, but no!

My phone vibrated as a text came through, which I read begrudgingly.

Please pick up, it read.

I pressed delete. Trying to put that behind me, I exhaled hard and furiously mashed the keyboard, hoping that something would come out – anything that could help me out of this shithole.

Almost instantly, my phone rang. Clearly they didn't want me to do any work tonight. I answered, but only to say one thing. "Look, will you just fuck off?"

"Adam?"

That voice was not what I expected. "Who is this?"

"It's Gayle."

"Oh fuck!" Now I felt like a twat. "Gayle, I am SO sorry!"

"Sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to bother you."

"No, no, it's all right. Someone has just been calling me and..."

I promised myself that next time I would check the number before I answered.