Three Skid Marks Read online

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  Copyright

  Three Skid Marks

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  About the Author

  Three Skid Marks

  April Ryder

  Copyright © 2016 April Ryder

  978-1-927236-74-1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from April Ryder

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  Mordechai Meiri / Shutterstock

  Cover fonts:

  Good Foot © Jakob Fischer

  American Typewriter

  Three Skid Marks

  =^.^=

  "What the fuck, Paul?"

  There seated on the couch is my ex-fiancé. The man who dumped me while I had the mother of all migraines and walked out of my life—with a blonde stick insect—to a job waiting for him in Wellington. That was the last I had seen of him until right now.

  "Hayley, you're home late. Where have you been?" he asked as if nothing was wrong with this situation.

  I, of course, ignore his question. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

  Paul seemed surprised by my response. He doesn't answer me immediately but fidgeted with a cushion right up until I was about to repeat myself. "I…the job fell through."

  I blinked rapidly at his admission. "And the stick insect?" I asked, not that I cared. Not really.

  "The what?"

  "The blonde Adam saw you with when you left."

  "Oh. Um…that's not what it looked like."

  I rolled my eyes. When was it ever? "I'm tired. I can't even. Just tell me what you're doing here so I can go to bed." And forget all about you again.

  "I don't have anywhere else to stay."

  "What about your friends?"

  He looked away and considered his words. With a sigh he finally revealed, "I might have boasted about the job offer—"

  "And now you're too embarrassed to go sleep on their couch because you feel like a failure?" I finished.

  "Yeah," he said and flashed me the most pathetic poopy face I'd ever seen. It was the closest he could get to puppy dog eyes. "Please Hayley."

  I dropped my gear bag on the floor with a loud thump and smiled in satisfaction when he flinched at the sound. But I really was tired. The last of the adrenaline from the derby had left my body and just that one drink had me wiped. I needed sleep. Dealing with Paul could wait until morning.

  "One night," I told him and walked to the bedroom.

  It wasn't until I was pulling the covers back on the bed that I realised Paul had followed me. Before he could remove his clothes I firmly told him, "On the couch, Paul."

  "But—"

  "You know where the spare blankets are," I said and waited for him to leave before I climbed into my nice cool bed, star-fished my limbs, pushed the poopy invader from my mind and sighed contentedly. Mmm…cool sheets.

  * * *

  "What the fuck, Paul?" I exclaimed when the door to the bathroom opened and the last man on earth that I wanted to see me naked walked in.

  "What?" he asked, shocked by my reaction. "You never minded before."

  "We were engaged then, we're not now. You're a"—unwanted—"guest, not someone who can just walk in while I'm using the bathroom."

  He scratched his sleep-tussled head but backed away without arguing further. I'd have to make sure to ask him for his key before he left. The last thing I needed was for Paul to pop up while I was entertaining someone. Now that would be embarrassing.

  Casting aside such morbid thoughts, I greeted Shawn the Shower. He worked his detachable showerhead magic. I didn't leave until I had used up all of the hot water.

  "Serve Paul right," I muttered as I dried myself.

  Even though it was the weekend, I had some work to catch up on in the office. It probably wasn't wise to leave Paul home alone, but the sooner I got the epic paper filing done the better.

  One of the two managers I was a personal assistant to had moved down to the South Island to cover a suddenly vacated role. I had to take every file in her office and file it away in the correct place. The woman was a hoarder and this was the perfect opportunity to get it done. That and I was being paid overtime. Cha-ching!

  I wasn't the only one in the office. My other manager, Jim, was getting some work done. He had been away for a while after coming off his mountain bike and injuring himself. I was surprised at how much work he had done while at home. That might have been because he didn't have anyone trying to interrupt him or getting caught up in an unending list of meetings. In fact I think we managed to catch up on every open project he was a part of. Maybe Jim should injure himself more often.

  Trish, who held the same position that I did but for two different managers, was at her desk when I came in.

  She smiled brightly and said, "Congratulations on the win. That dogpile was pretty spectacular!"

  I winced at the reminder of being at the bottom of a heavy, smelly pile of Wicked B*tches during last night's derby. Everyone had walked away with a bruise or two. I'd found seven while in Shawn earlier.

  "Not one of my greatest moments," I said.

  "And the way the hockey guys jumped up to rescue you," she added while fanning herself with her hand. "They're so hot."

  "Yeah," I agreed with what I was sure was a stupid dreamy look on my face. God, did I have it bad.

  "I like the big guy; he looks like he'd ravish a girl."

  "He did…"

  "Did what?"

  "What?" I said, suddenly realising what I'd just let slip and panicking that Trish would know what I had meant. "Ah… he does look like he would?"

  "Yeah," she said, seeming to buy what I had said. "And that other guy. Wow, I just about wet my knickers when he smiled down at you!"

  I knew that feeling. Once I had thought he had incinerated my knickers with one look at me. But then I remembered I hadn't been wearing any because Rick the Dick had dropped them in a puddle. Just the thought of the vile man made me angry.

  "You all right?" Trish asked, worried by my obvious attempt at hulking out. She leaned closer and lowered her voice, "Have you heard about the restructure?"

  That got my attention. There had been a restructure in the company not too long ago and that was why Trish and I had been employed, to fill newly created roles.

  "No. Should I be worried?"

  Trish shrugged. "I have someone on the inside in HR. He said they're making up lists for reassignment within the organisation and for redundancy. He told me—and I quote—to keep my head down and my nose clean. I think they're specifically looking at our department and I'm more than a little worried."

  "Me too. Thanks for letting me know," I told her before heading to my desk. The last thing I needed right now was having to worry about my job. I already had everything else to worry about.

  A few hours had passed by the time Jim ventured out of his office to chat. He was polite, quick to laugh, and the same age as my father—in his mid-fifties. So Jim dropping a condom on my desk was quite a shock.

  "This was attached to a postcard in yesterday's mail. Some promotion or something. I think you'll get more use out of it than I will."

  With that he turned on his heel and disappeared back into his office.

  "What the…"

  I had no time to dwell on just how awkward, disturbing, and mildly creepy it was to have a man who reminded you of your father
give you a contraceptive and tell you to use it, because my mother chose that moment to gatecrash my workplace. How she managed to get past security I'd never know, but she did. Every. Damn. Time.

  "Mum, what are you doing here?"

  The woman who had given birth to me looked around my cubicle and sniffed. "I'm here to have lunch. Don't tell me you don't eat lunch."

  I tried to ignore the pointed look she gave my tummy. She had already made it clear what she thought about my size, not to mention her incessant advice on how to burn off the shameful fat. The only times I felt fat were whenever she brought it up and when I went clothes shopping and couldn't find something that would fit. Soul-destroying moments spent locked alone in a little changing room tend to make one really hate changing rooms.

  Suppressing the urge to sigh—or strangle my mother—I grabbed my wallet and smiled. "Of course I have lunch."

  "You should get a purse," my mother told me.

  I ground my teeth together and kept my thoughts to myself. There was nothing wrong with my purple RFID-blocking wallet. Instead, I said, "The cafe on corner?"

  She nodded. "That sounds fine. We can have salads."

  No, she could have a salad. I was going to nom down on a burger. Right in front of her. And I was going to enjoy it.

  "Hayley," Jim said as he poked his head out of the office. "About the condom—"

  "That's okay," I said quickly, trying to shut him up. My mother didn't need more material to work with.

  My mother stared at my manager and I froze. Oh my God, she had heard him say condom.

  "Jim?" she said.

  I opened my eyes, not realising I'd squinted them closed and started wishing to be anywhere but here.

  "Yes?" he said and joined us. "And you are?"

  "Debbie Olson," she said, introducing herself to him using her maiden name. "We used to work together."

  Jim looked my mother over in a way that made me uncomfortable. My parents had divorced recently and I was suddenly worried Jim would ask me to give him that condom back, especially when he turned his gaze to me. Ick. Ick. Ick. Scientists need to invent mind bleach, stat!

  "I think I remember," he said, but it was clear to me that he didn't. I knew he was trying to envision a slender version of me, but I looked nothing like my mother.

  "This is a funny coincidence," my mother said. "My first job was working for you and now here Hayley is working for you for her first job."

  Technically that was correct. This was my first full-time permanent job, however, I had held several part-time temporary ones during high school and the short time I was in university.

  "Really? That is funny," Jim agreed.

  My mother and I nodded, and when no one else seemed ready to say anything more, I reminded her we were going to lunch and that Jim had lots of work to do. I didn't want her to invite him along to witness whatever it was she was here to torture me about. Or flirt with one of my managers. I didn't want to see that. Ever.

  "Oh shoot," my mother said as we seated ourselves at the cafe. "I should have extended the invitation to Jim. It would have been lovely to catch up. You know I used to have a crush on him…"

  Whatever she said next I drowned out by mentally putting my fingers in my ears and singing that Taylor Swift song about the hot bad boy to myself.

  "Hayley, are you listening to me?" my mother asked, waving her ring-covered fingers in my face.

  No.

  "Yes," I lied.

  She didn't believe me. "Well, have you heard from your father or not?"

  "No. Not for a while."

  Shit. I hadn't called my father in weeks. He didn't know the engagement was off, that Paul was gone—or he had been for some time—and that I was now a roller derby chick.

  "I ask because I wondered what he thought of these sudden and drastic changes you've been making in your life."

  "What sudden and drastic changes?" I asked, wary as to where this was going.

  "Well, no longer being engaged to Paul for a start."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't look at me. That was all his idea."

  "He's back in Auckland now. If you just put in a little effort I'm sure he'd be happy to take you back."

  My eyebrows shot up through my hairline at what she was suggesting. "He dumped me, mum. I should be the one taking him back."

  "Well, why don't you?"

  Sometimes I wonder what planet my mother lives on. Where to start… "He cheated on me!" I reminded her and chomped on my burger for emphasis.

  "So did your father but I didn't leave him over it."

  My uneaten mouthful fell out onto my plate. "Wait what? Dad didn't cheat on you." Did he?

  Mum picked at her salad with her fancy little salad fork. She didn't look up when she said, "He didn't cheat… but I've always known your father loved another woman—who he couldn't be with—but I never once held it against him."

  Brain boggled, I sat in stunned silence as I tried to comprehend what she had just told me. Even though my father had been in love with someone else, he had married my mother. My mother who was heavily pregnant with my older sister Chloe.

  "A marriage of convenience," I realised out loud. The more I thought about it though, the more it made sense. My parents had never loved each other. They might have once been fond of each other, but over time they had stayed together out of obligation to me and my sister. So why hadn't they divorced after we had moved out? Habit? Fear of the unknown? Was there anything else they weren't telling me? Nothing could possibly top this, surely?

  "Am I…"

  "Oh yes. We are your parents."

  Nuts.

  "So why are you telling me this now?"

  "Because Paul is a nice young man and he'll be a successful lawyer. You need that stability, Hayley. Who else is going to be able to provide that for you? Men aren't exactly lining up at your door."

  I didn't know how to react. One part of me wanted to shout to the world that two hot men were fighting over me. That one of said hot men had fucked my brains out in the men's changing room at the Selby Sport Centre. And that Paul was a fool and a useless catch. I was going to throw my line back out there and see if I could catch lucky Number 7. Another part of me froze. Not in fear but in shock. I knew my mother adored Paul, practically worshiped the ground he walked on, but couldn't she see that he wasn't right for me? That he didn't make me happy? Didn't make my thing ping.

  I no longer felt hungry and left my burger on the plate. What I'd already eaten felt heavy in my stomach. Without a word I pushed my chair back, eliciting a horrible screech as it scraped the floor, and addressed my mother. "I have to go back to work. But if you like Paul so much, why don't you marry him?"

  I turned on my heel and would have walked off without looking back, but I had to pay for the meal. Even though I was pissed beyond words at my mother, I couldn't leave her with the bill. That would be rude.

  * * *

  Monday arrived and I went to practice after work. Usually we practiced on Tuesday but we had changed the dates so we could fit in two practices before the semifinal later this week.

  "Are we going in?" Adam asked as we stood out of range of the automatic door's sensor.

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, afraid of running into him. By him I mean the dick. The Dick who had used his dick to…oh my God! Just thinking about what we did together dampened my knickers. What is wrong with me?

  "Can you see if he's in there?"

  The men's inline hockey team had also changed their practice days to match ours, but not because of a semifinal. Adam had told me that a scout for the national team would be watching them practice on Wednesday and also be at the game. They were taking it very seriously.

  "He, who?"

  "Don't play dumb with me!"

  Adam took a step away from me. "Damn, sweetie. It's a little too late for it to be that time of the month."

  I glared at him. How I didn't kill my bestie on a daily basis was beyond me.

 
; He finally did my bidding and after a few minutes' anxious wait he came back out to report: "All clear. Josh said Rick can't make it tonight. Some family commitment. He'll be here on Wednesday though."

  "Family commitment. That man is such a…he's a…God he's a dick!"

  "Did you two have an argument or something?" Adam asked.

  I pressed my lips together, too embarrassed to confess to my bestest of friends that I had been a party to adultery.

  "He's not my type, but you should have seen his butt," he said.

  It only reminded me that he had walked in on me and Rick in the midst of making the beast with two backs.

  "It was so…" he held his hands up and mimed squeezing the Dick's arse. "You could crack walnuts with that."

  Unable to help myself, I asked, "Why would I want to crack walnuts with his arse?"

  Adam smiled and shrugged. I hated it when he did that. Refuse to reply and then smile enigmatically.

  "Is it a gay thing?" I ask as two of his fellow teammates walked past us and into the centre.

  "What have we discussed about checking to see if others are in earshot before speaking without thinking?" Adam asked.

  "Um, don't?"

  He patted me on the head and sighed. "I don't think that'll ever sink in. Come on, we're both late."

  "Late?"

  Adam had taken a few steps already when he heard the horror in my voice. He turned, and with a worried face that couldn't compete with the look on mine, said, "What do you mean late?"

  "I'm late."

  "Yes, for practice."

  "No, the other kind of late."

  The blank look he gave me grated.

  "Late late."

  "Like 'oh my God, my womanly flood hasn't arrived and there's a baby coming' late?" Adam couldn't say the word period even if a gun were pointed at his head.

  "Maybe," I hedged.

  "But you used a condom, right?"

  I shook my head.

  "You take pills though so you should be fine," he said, trying to brush aside my worry. "Word in the changing room has it he's clean."