Count On Me

Part Forty One

This wouldn't be the first time they'd picked up women together...though he'd generally been better since he'd committed to Krystal...generally.

As the two women smiled coyly, a nauseating attempt at innocence, Mike elbowed him, "come on. We're in."

He shook his head, "no way, I'm here for a catch up and a couple of beers."

Mike guffawed loudly, not believing a word he said, "yeah right! Come on...yellow or brown? I'm not fussy."

Suddenly he thought about Lizzie, and a man referring to her as a hair colour, as a one night stand, and he wanted to punch Mike. He didn't care about the girls...he didn't know them, and wasn't bothered to know him, but the attitude almost killed him. He'd dated a woman who danced provocatively for men for a living. That hadn't bothered him, he'd never felt this...protective of anyone before.

Mike was looking expectantly at him, then with wide eyes, nodded towards the women. Oscar shook his head, "not in the mood. Gonna take a leak."

With that, he jumped to his feet and escaped.

"How's your evening? Hope Nate has behaved. Wish I was home..."

He sent the message before he had chance to think it through, but then looking at his watch, he realised that at midnight there was little chance of her being awake. He did his business, but before he left the bathroom, his phone pinged.

"Surprisingly quiet without a certain big oaf hanging around the place. Nate good, and I'm sure you are having a whale of a time. See you in the morning?"

He sighed, yes. She would. Instead he text her an 'X', a kiss. It was another message that he hadn't thought about before pressing 'send', but there it was, a kiss. Shaking his head, he left the bathroom, but as he re-entered the bar, he groaned. Mike was sat between the two women he'd been appreciating, and looked up with a grin as he approached. His friend and colleague was too drunk to realise that Oscar wasn't happy, and definitely wasn't playing along. Instead he threw an arm around him and dragged Oscar down to his level.

"Wicker, old man...this is Gemma..." he pointed at the brunette, who was virtually sat in his lap. "And this is Sara." The blond...Sara, moved along to stand beside him and smiled.

Was he ever taken in by this? It was such a contrived smile, her stance, her hair...everything calculated. And he wanted to scream. He didn't want her, he didn't want this...he wanted to escape. He wanted to stand and watch Lizzie sleep; he didn't want to buy a stranger drinks, take her to a hotel room and do what he'd done dozens of times. Anonymous sex. That wasn't appealing anymore, and he knew that it would be nowhere near as satisfying as just curling up besides Lizzie.

"We're just going...to powder our noses."

The brunette stood and tugged at Sara's arm. Oscar watched as she reluctantly unwound herself, then followed her friend across the room.

Mike, grinning, leaned closer, "shit! They are up for anything. Let's get them out of here."

It was gross, the way he referred to the women, the way they hung on to him right back. It was cheap and nasty and he felt scarred by it all.

"Sorry, but I'm heading home," to my family. He thought silently. Family. What an amazing word.

Mike jumped up, "what? Gemma won't play ball..." he winked, "or with my balls, without you entertaining Sara."