I still hear the echo of his laugh sometimes. It was one of them filthy laughs that even when I wanted to punch his face in, I couldn't help but give in to it and we'd both be laughing like lunatics until our stomachs hurt. I don't think he'd be laughing now, wherever he is.
Charles' eyes look at me with the same warmth as Elvis' did. Sometimes I even try to trick my mind into believing they are his. Other times I'm happy, actually more than happy that they belong to Charles. That was until he picked his arse up off my bed and fucked off home without so much as a 'nice knowing ya'
I don't know what I did but I haven't heard from him since and he hasn't been running or in for a coffee. It's been 2 weeks 4 days 8 hours and 43 minutes.
Evil Steve keeps asking after him and snarling because of course I fucked up and lost him a loyal customer. Could hardly tell him I sent him packing through failure to handle my booze.
His phone goes straight to voicemail an all. Wanker.
"What am I doing wrong?" Elvis' smiling face starer back at me and he's definitely the wrong person to be asking but I need to know, not that I'm gonna get what I'm looking for from him but better than talking to the wall I s'pose.
"Fuck him. His loss anyway Mol, you looked smokin' that night" Jackie always knew the right thing to say but this time it had little effect on me. My confidence has been shattered.
"I was bleedin' sick... in front of him" I'm still cringing. Obviously all of his bullshit about not being embarrassed was just that... bullshit. He was probably judging me the entire time, just didn't have the balls tell me.
"Well there is that but there's plenty more hotties where he came from trust me Mol. We'll find you one tonight. You don't need a stuck up tosser like him"
But he wasn't like that. He wasn't judgemental or arsey and he never made me feel like he was looking down his nose at me. He made me happy.
I'm holding out with the slimmest of hopes that's it's something to do with that bloody leg. Maybe an ailment that has since travelled to his thumbs and is prevent phone use. I'm hoping and praying it's that. Not that I wish pain on him but it's better than the alternative that he really is just ghosting me.
I'm getting really brave now and I've even put together a box of his favourite cakes and I've sniffed out his address from the client reward card system (probably all kinds of illegal but needs must and all that) and I'm making my way to his house. I knew he lived in the posh end of town but this was something else. Elvis had always promised that one day we would live here.
He has a great view from here, the sea and the pier and the bustle of the town. It seems a shame to experience all those sunrises and sunsets alone.
My heart skips a beat when a car pulls up and yes it's him and yes he's crippled and clinging to crutches so my gut was right he has just been unwell and it's all gonna be fine. I walk as fast as my legs can carry me because I've missed him and I'm gonna tell him just how much when I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him for dear life.
And then I see her. All perky tits and a perfect arse in sprayed on jeans and perfect blonde hair with icy blue eyes and an expensive handbag like she's something out of Real Housewives. I hate her!
A little boy joins them now. His little boy. His double with the same curly hair and dark eyes and none of them have even registered my existence so I try to make a quick get away with my heart well and truly smashed into a thousand fucking bits because he lied to me.
"Molly?" I always did like the way my name sounded on his lips.
"Charles?" I turn to face him and I'm surprised to see he's closed the gap quickly for someone who can't walk.
