The Aftermath Of You

Chapter Thirteen

"Knee!"

"Muh!" Toni cried out, her eyes wide open. "Gross!" She wiped feverishly at the drool puddling on her couch.

"Nice nap?"

"The Basket Case woke me at six thirty. She decided I needed my lawns mowed, and I have a raging hangover!" Toni dragged herself to her feet.

"How have you been?" Danny approached nervously.

"I don't need a shot of anti depressants if that's what you mean!" Toni snarled. "Gosh, you're all such a bunch of busy bodies!"

Chuckling, Danny yanked her into his arms and planted a friendly kiss on her head. "That's not what I meant, Appendix; I was enquiring after your foot."

"Oh. Right. It's a little fresh." She moved awkwardly, as he seemed to have forgotten to take his arms away.

"Great." His hazel eyes flashed.

Toni's stomach twisted uncomfortably. She scrutinized Danny objectively in a way she hadn't really done in quite some time. She could hardly believe that this man in front of her was that same blond boy full of life and charm. Thinking of how he had changed always brought her back to Melanie. Danny met Jayden's mother late at night in some dark, dingy nightclub, and Danny had failed to take precautions for the first time in his life. Danny had wanted to make things work for the baby. Nobody knew why Melanie left. Danny's mother had mentioned Post Natal Depression and Toni's mother had mentioned Post Natal Selfishness and Danny had mentioned Post Natal Partner Loathing. In fact quite a few people joined in with the attempt to find an excuse for Melanie's lack of maternal feelings. But Toni had always thought it was a case of Pre Natal and Post Natal 'Oh my! Aren't I a nasty piece of work?' Toni could understand why she'd left Danny, but she would never be able to comprehend how Melanie had left her son. Or what had attracted Danny to her in the first place?

Danny's fingers brought her back to the present. They appeared to be touching her bare back where her pajama top didn't reach her pants.

And although she longed to step back and say something chaste, she couldn't help but move in towards his touch. It had been so long since she'd had human contact with anyone her own age that her body had become dehydrated like a cactus in the desert. Any moment now Toni half-expected the Road Runner to go barreling past; that, or a tumble weed. His hands moved gently against her pajama top.

Toni held her breath, her eyelids fluttering closed, trying not to imagine that it was Jack holding her instead.

"Mm, you smell nice," Danny murmured against her neck.

I'm not swooning; just resting my head, Toni told herself firmly. Her eyelids flickered open and calculated the distance between their mouths. Five itty bitty centimeters. Toni breathed in deeply like a proper romantic heroine, but in her haste she sucked a large chunk of hair into her mouth. Opening her eyes, she hooked it out with her index finger; her eyes traced the strand of hair back to his head. Her stomach lunged; she had just inhaled some of his afro ...

She stepped back quickly. "Well, I'd best call The Drunk Man's Arms about the upcoming speed dating. I'm supposed to get out and about more."

"Do you really need to go speed dating?"

"I don't know any eligible bachelors."

"Come on, there are heaps of eligible guys around. They're probably closer than you think - just around the corner." He pulled a chocolate muesli bar out of her pantry. Was he ... was he blushing?

"You'd better check the expiry date."

Looking down at the bar he whistled in admiration. "Only two years out of date. I'd better get going."

He marched out.

"Hey Gran!" Toni cried when Granny Smith answered the phone. "How are things?"

"GOOD!"

"I was just reading that book you left me last year about writing. It's really inspired me."

"OH," Granny Smith replied. "THAT'S GOOD NEW'S, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WRITE ABOUT?"

"I don't know. I was thinking that I could be this country's answer to Jackie Collins; I could write about people called Pixie Star and Big Rocky and they could be trying to make it in the Capital. Maybe I could do a couple of graphic sex scenes and mention Pixie's large apricot-colored nipples, you know, like Jackie Collins does."

"Oh." In her shock, Granny Smith failed to shout.

"Of course, even though they will all suffer because of their gritty pasts, Pixie Star will ultimately make a lot of money." Toni waited hopefully. "What do you think?"

"WELL," Granny Smith shouted uncertainly, "WHAT'S YOUR CHARACTER'S MOTIVATION? JOAN GEORGES SAYS YOU'VE GOT TO HAVE A MOTIVATION." Joan Georges wrote one or two articles for their local newsletter and Granny Smith treated her like a celebrity.

"Probably she just wants to get out of the trailer park that she grew up in."

"I DON'T KNOW," Granny Smith said truthfully. "SOUNDS SAD. WHY DON'T YOU WRITE A ROMANTIC NOVEL? LOTS OF PEOPLE READ THEM..."

"Hmm, a bodice-ripper. Well, of course Pixie Star will probably fall in love with Big Rocky, but it can't be too soppy or it might end up a bit too much like a Harleboon." Toni mulled that over for a bit, "Although, Gran, that could be quite a lucrative step. I'd just need to hide Pixie's nipples and make her skin a luminescent white and give her long red hair and no previous notches on her bed post-"

"WELL, I MEANT-"

"And every time I want to make a new novel I can just change her appearance a little bit," Toni continued excitedly. "My hero will, of course, be an absolute brute who will kiss her soundly even when she tells him not too – although I'm not too sure I'd like a man to do that; can that be classed as molestation?"

"NOOOO!" Granny Smith hollered, not able to handle a word more.

"You don't think so? Couldn't border on rape?"

"NOOOO!"

"Because I personally think I'd be calling the police if any of those low-lives tried to bust down my door -"

"NOT AN EROTIC ROMANCE! FOR GOODNESS' SAKE WRITE ABOUT SOME THING YOU'VE EXPERIENCED."

Joan Georges apparently said that writing about things you know about is more appealing to the reader. Granny suggested journaling.

"But I want to write a novel. I just don't think anyone would want to read about me."

"DON"T BE TOO SURE," her grandmother shouted glumly. "IT'D BE A LOT MORE INTERESTING THAN READING ABOUT APRICOT-COLORED NIPPLES!"

After Granny Smith shouted goodbye and disconnected, Toni sat silently with the phone still clutched in her hands. She knew Granny Smith was right: there wasn't a large audience of people who could relate to a money-hungry nudist.

And she knew that now she'd started writing about him she couldn't stop.

Not for anything.