The Aftermath Of You

Chapter Thirty One

Toni's phone jumped to life. Who calls this late at night? Has some one died?

"Hello, is this Miss Handcock?" a drunken voice slurred down the phone.

"Ye-es."

"How much for a blow job?"

"A what?"

"B-L-O-W-J-O-B," he spelled out helpfully. "How much does it cost?"

"I'm not a hairdresser, how would I know?"

"Got your brochures here, try the Handcock experience. I assume you're a lady of the night?"

The horrible truth sank in. "No I just have an interfering mother. I would prefer it if you stopped calling me."

Toni disconnected and switched her phone off. When would a normal person ring her? There was nothing for it. She would have to organise it herself.

*

Toni called Athol Russ' offices the very next day.

"Hello?" he asked in a fluid confident voice.

"Hello Athol, it's Toni Hancock." She held her breath tightly. She'd always been really dreadful at asking men out on dates.

"Toni, hello. You can make all appointments with my receptionist, you know," he told her lightly.

"Oh right," she squeaked. There was nothing else for it. She was going to have to be direct. "And what ... what about dates? Does she sort them out for you too?"

"Oh, right." There was a short pause while this sank in. "Maybe I could take your number and call you back at a more appropriate time?"

Fascinating, Toni marveled; he's not even shocked. Did woman ring to ask him out on dates all the time? "Okay then," she mumbled, shame-faced. She gave him her number and then disconnected quickly, trying not to hyperventilate. Write. She needed to write.

Rummaging around her table she found her exercise book. She was just about to start journaling when a moped pulled up on the pavement in front of her house. A tall man uncurled his legs and stood up, and sloped towards the house.

"Oh, shit," Toni whispered, thinking about hiding even though she'd already locked eyes with the giant through the window.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Toni bravely swung open the door.

"Why won't you go on another date with me?" he demanded.

"We ... we don't really have anything in common. I'd probably bore you to death."

"You're wrong; we do have things in common. We went to school together."

She couldn't deny that. "Err, I guess you're right."

"Give me another chance! Let me take you to the movies."

"No, sorry, Wan ... Wayne, I'm really not interested." There. It was out. The plain and simple truth.

Wayne turned and sloped back towards his moped. Shutting the door behind him, she breathed a sigh of relief. After a good thirty seconds of not hearing the moped gun to life a feeling of unease settled on her soul.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Damn it!

"Kiss me," Wayne demanded, "for ten seconds. And if you don't feel anything for me then I'll leave you alone."