Chapter 9
“My dick is sore,” Damien complained loudly, putting it out there in front of all his friends.
“STI or too much wanking?” Jay asked with a grin.
“Neither. It’s Morgan’s fault,” Damien announced. “She bounced up and down on my dick so hard I thought she was going to snap it off.”
Morgan wasn’t sure if he was trying to humiliate her or show off, but the look of envy on Jay’s face suggested the later.
“I hope you’re using protection, kids,” Erin said dryly.
“Oh, I just figured she was on the pill.” Damien shrugged.
Erin sighed and hung her head. “Glad to see you’re being so responsible.”
The group walked past the high street stores Morgan used to frequent before she was infatuated with Damien. They carried on past the pawnshop and Chinese restaurant toward the entrance to Gillian’s Walk—a group of offbeat hippy shops and alternative clothing stores.
Morgan had never been in any of these stores besides the hippy store that sold legal highs. Pushing aside the beaded string curtain, she felt an immediate headache from the mix of twenty different incense varieties mingling in the air.
These kinds of shops had never been of any interest to Morgan or her friends, though some of the crystals and ornaments were pretty. They had incense burners, crystal skulls and a selection of fairies and dragons next to a display with every colour of candle imaginable.
“These are awesome,” Shane said, picking up a black candle. “They start black but turn red as they burn so it looks like dripping blood.”
“Awesome,” the others nodded in agreement.
Why anyone would want a bleeding candle was not a question Morgan was willing to pose. It was bad enough that she’d invaded their group.
She ran her finger over a display of different crystals—each apparently having its own healing powers—as Damien asked Erin to take her to the clothing store and help her chose an outfit.
“Do I have to?” Erin grumped quietly; probably not aware Morgan could overhear.
“Yes,” Damien demanded. “Go on.”
When Erin approached, mouth pulled into a fake smile, Morgan looked up with feigned surprise, pretending she hadn’t heard.
“Wanna leave the guys for a bit and try on some clothes?” Erin asked.
“Sounds great,” Morgan said, following her out of the store.
Frilly black skirts, corsets and stripy green and purple tops hung in the window. Morgan hoped they would have something a little more normal looking inside. As much as she wanted to please Damien, the idea of drastically altering her entire look made her nervous and a little sad, like she was killing off a part of herself.
“This is nice,” Erin said, picking up a tartan skirt. “Plus you have the legs to pull it off.”
“I sorry you got roped into this,” Morgan said. “And… for not listening to you.”
She saw a flash of a smile as Erin flicked through the hangers. “Honestly, It’s okay, I’m just…”
“Did you have a, erm, thing… with Damien?” Morgan asked.
“Oh God no!” Erin cried. She started to laugh at the idea.
“A while back I had a little fling with Jay, but King Damien didn’t approve.” Erin rolled her eyes. “It’s just unfair that he gets to date whoever he wants but I can’t be with Jay in case it upsets the dynamic of the group.”
“Ah,” Morgan nodded. On one hand, she was relieved that Erin wasn’t competition for her, but she also felt bad for the girl. It was a dick move on Damien’s part. “He’s pretty… domineering to the people in his life.”
“You can say that again.” Erin laugh-snorted.
“I’ll see if he’ll do a double date with me, you and Jay,” Morgan offered.
The clothes clattered as Erin dropped the pile and turned to Morgan, eyes wide and open-mouthed. “Really? You think that would work?”
“It’s worth a try.” Morgan shrugged. “Oh… we should buy outfits for it so they can’t say no.”
“You’re a genius,” Erin gasped, turning back to the clothes. She picked out a black skirt. “Do you think I can pull this off?”
“I think you should get the tartan one,” Morgan advised, leaning over to grab a lacy black dress. “I’m getting this.”
After picking out a selection of casual clothing, makeup and hair dye the girls met up with Damien and the others in the coffee shop. They found Damien in having a heated discussion with the young barista.
“Have you heard of the equality act of 2010? It’s illegal for you to ask her to stop breastfeeding,” Damien told the red-faced barista, standing over an equally embarrassed looking young mother.
“E—erm, a customer com—complained, so…” the barista stuttered.
“Which customer?” Damien asked, looking about with wild eyes.
“Er… erm,” the barista floundered. She didn’t seem to want to point out the offending party, probably worried things would escalate.
A guy in a suit shifted in his chair, tutted, and looked up. “I don’t want to see that while I’m eating. It’s indecent exposure. The kids practically a teenager! Ridiculous to still be breastfeeding at that age.”
“He’s two,” the young woman spoke up for herself as she flapped her kids arm from her face. The little boy seemed determined to pull her lips off.
“Also, if you don’t want to see you could just stare down at your Daily Fail like you have been for the past five minutes. Read any good racist propaganda in the shit-rag today?”
The guy frowned, his jaw quivering as he tried to dream up a response. His eyes shifted to Morgan as she sidled up to Damien.
“Oh what? My tits aren’t obscene because I’m not currently using them to breastfeed? My eyes are up here, son,” Morgan said.
Red-faced and defeated, the guy downed the last of his coffee before closing the newspaper and getting up, muttering about how kids respected their elder in his day.
Damien clicked his fingers. “I just gave him chronic anal leakage.”
“I respect it.” Morgan snickered. She watched the man through the window as he stopped, looked about, and ran off in the direction of the public toilets.
‘Will he be like that for the rest of his life?’ Morgan wondered. ‘All because he had to go and get on Damien’s bad side… like me.’
The woman with the kid smiled up at them as the toddler smacked the cake out of her hand and began to smash it into the table. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“This is my life now,” the young mother said with a dry smile.
A minute later the barista approached with a fresh piece of cake, a voucher, and an apology. She turned to Damien and offered him a sheepish smile before returning to her station.
“Well, she narrowly avoided anal fissures,” Damien muttered under his breath.
“We can’t go anywhere without Damien getting into an argument with someone,” Jay explained. “It’s like he has this pathological need to stick his nose into other people’s business. Sometimes it gets ugly.”
“Ha, when I’m involved it’s always ugly,” Damien said.
“You’re not ugly, you’re beautiful and perfect and gorgeous,” Morgan cooed, wrapping her arms around his to pull him in for a hug.
The others cheered or made puking gestures.
“Let’s go and try these clothes on,” Damien said.
“On me, right?” Morgan snickered, picturing Damien in a dress.
They waved to the cute, cake smothered toddler before leaving for the bus stop. It was weird getting the bus without Rheya and Cara; the three of them had spent every Saturday morning shopping in town since the age of eleven.
Just as she thought about her beloved girlfriends, they appeared at the bus stop, as if by magic. Both regarded her with the same sly, bitchy glances.
“Eww, look what the cat dragged in,” Cara said.
Rheya snickered. “My Lord, he’s even uglier than I remembered. What the hell does she see in him.”
“Maybe she likes feminine guys now,” Cara said. “Check out that eyeliner.”
Morgan ignored them, but Damien and his friends started making dumb blonde jokes and laughing louder than the pair of divas. When they got on the bus, she was glad that her new group took the upstairs of the double-decker while her former friends chose the lower deck.
When Morgan turned to Damien, she saw a glint in his eyes.
“Don’t do anything to them,” she pleaded.
“Like?” Damien asked.
“Anal…” Morgan shook her head. “Whatever it was you gave to that dipshit earlier.”
Damien laughed. “Aww, you do still love that pair of cackling witches.”
Morgan looked away but nodded, unable to lie to him.
“You get that they are bad people, right?” Damien asked.
Morgan nodded. “But they probably learned a lot of that behaviour from me. I used to be the queen of the cackling witch brigade. Please don’t punish them. Punish me instead.”
Damien made a quiet scoffing sound. “Maybe I will.”
When the others pilled in the seats next to them, Shane took out his phone and played music. The others sang along with varying skill but equal enthusiasm. Only Morgan didn’t know the words. She felt left out but was happy to watch Damien sing. He was so cute when he sang.