Satellite-Sequel to God Save My King (Steve Jones FanFic)

Kimmy-Snapped

Linda kept popping into my mind, and with her, every other woman Steve had ever slept with. Of course, I didn't have any names or faces, which only made things worse. Every gorgeous blonde that walked by me on the way to work, the cute brunette barista who gave me Dr. Fields' daily coffee, and even the large breasted ex-prostitute that sat in the waiting room...every girl that I saw was just another one of Steve's one night stands.

How could I possibly measure up? Steve had had groupies at his disposal. Whores who were in the business of sex and who knew it well with their voluptuous bodies and made up faces. Where did that leave me? I may as well be a virgin, considering I only had one sexual experience with John to go off of. Not to mention, we both had been fairly inebriated that night and I had no clue if I had done much of anything, let alone if I had done it well or not. On top of that, I was fairly plain in the face and my body was as flat as a board. Definitely not Steve's type at all.

Not that I should be bothering myself with whether or not I'm Steve's type anyway. What was I thinking? I'd been given my chance with him, and I had been selfish. I'd told myself I could learn to love him, and I had started to, to a degree. But as soon as John had worked his way back into my life, I kicked Steve to the curb like he was nothing but rubbish.

As far as I was concerned, I hadn't earned the right to be jealous of Linda, and I most certainly had no right to be upset with Jones about the way our date had ended. What did I expect him to do? Pine over me for years, never to look at another woman again? Remain celibate until I maybe one day came back into his life? Fat chance.

It was none of my business who Steve shagged and who he didn't. I'd lost the privilege of being a part of his love life the moment I'd stepped on a flight to New York 3 years ago. And yet, I still found myself obsessing over the way Linda's robe had barely enough fabric to cover her bulging chest and her smooth thighs.

I arrived home from a particularly slow and agonizing day of work, a day full of Dr. Fields scolding and berating me about coffee and donuts, only to be welcomed by the even more troubling sounds of Noelle and Lydon arguing. This was the third time this week, and they were beginning to have a hard time hiding their fights from me.

I found them in the kitchen, Noelle with her arms crossed as she stood by the sink. Lydon, hair ablaze to match the smoldering charcoals of his pupils, jaw set as a cold cup of tea sat untouched in front of him. They had stopped yelling when they heard the front door close behind me, but they continued to glare at each other despite my presence.

"Hey, I'm home," my voice came out as a squeak.

"I heard," Noelle stated. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of how exactly to respond to that.

"No need to be rude to Kimmy," Lydon shot back at her. "Just because you don't know how to conduct yourself properly-"

"Oh, it's my fault? Just like how everything else is my fault?" Noelle demanded. "I just said 'I heard'. I wasn't being rude. And besides, she's my friend, not yours."

"You might actually be Hitler in a wig."

"And wouldn't you just love that, ya' fairy?"

"I'm the fairy? Coming from the girl who hasn't even looked at my pecker in months, that's a laugh!"

"That's all you care about, isn't it? Typical behavior for you and your lot."

"My lot?"

"The Sex Pistols? It's in the bloody name!"

They kept going back and forth like that, to the point where I wondered if maybe I'd turned into a ghost or something and they didn't realize that I was still there. Or maybe they were beyond caring if I was or wasn't there anymore, in which case, I needed to step in before things could get any worse.