Completely ignoring him, I continue doing my job, not caring that I’ve gone over ten minutes already. I’m kind of hoping that if I take long enough, he’ll get bored and leave.
“Yeah. A while back, a crazy girlfriend went psycho on me because I wasn’t into her sick and twisted kinks. I love her, I do, but I can’t get past it. We’ve tried having basic sex, but she doesn’t get turned on, not like she does when her, um, kinks are involved. What can I do to stop it?”
There are not many times where I can say that I’ve frozen, but right now, all I can do is gape at the microphone, at the sound of his voice, before glaring up at Clayton, placing all the blame on him. If I hadn’t been so off my game in his presence, I would have picked up on who the caller was.
“Hello?” Russell calls, but I can’t form a word, let alone a sentence.
Eyebrows drawn together, Clayton then gives a small shake of his head, silently asking me what’s wrong.
“Have you tried to get into her kinks, Russ?” Clayton answers when it becomes apparent that I’m not going to.
“It’s wrong, man. How do I get her to stop liking it?”
“You can’t get her to stop liking it. Everyone has their kinks. Some people fantasise about being in control, being submissive, or enjoy the adrenaline of being caught. There is never just one. Have you tried to talk to her and ask her what it is about it that turns her on? Maybe you can meet her halfway.”
“There’s no talking to her. I’ve tried. I’m the only one who will even touch her because of it. The girl is crazy.”
Snapping out of it, I run everything he said through my mind. I can’t tell if he’s the woman in this scenario, and I’m the crazy part, or if he’s actually met a girl with this fetish. From the way I left him on New Year, I’m guessing it’s the first.
I’m not sure if he knows this is my show, but either way, I’m not letting this go.
“What is this kink?” I ask, deepening my voice a little, causing frowns from Chrissy and Clayton. “It could help give you answers.”
“She, um, she likes a golden shower and other stuff deposited on her?”
“Is that a question?”
“Yes. No. Can you help make it stop or not?” he barks out.
“I’m not sure. It seems to me this is a form of dominance. Do you like being submissive?”
“What? I’m dominant. No bitch is going to tell me what to do.”
My lips twitch. “So, really this isn’t about a girl but about you. Do you like people taking a piss on you?”
“What kind of show is this?” he rages, genuinely offended.
The only thing that stops me from laughing is Clayton. I don’t want to get fired, not when I’m meant to be neutral. I can give my attitude and blunt advice, but to laugh or make fun of someone’s experience is frowned upon.
“Answer me,” I reply harshly.
“Okay. Okay. So, my crazy ex threw some kind of concoction on me, and ever since, I like the feel of crap smothered all over me.” I’m both disgusted and amused.
“And why did your ex throw it on you?” I ask, waiting for his bullshit excuse.
“Do I know you?”
“No, Russ, you really don’t.” And he never did.
“She’s batshit crazy. Has a real problem taking instruction, if you get my meaning?”
My teeth grind together. “Or maybe she did it for another reason.”
“No. Her entire family are nuts. I had her dad come by and shove my head down the loo, all because I broke it off with her and she didn’t like it. She couldn’t handle losing me. I get it a lot, but she’s a new brand of crazy.”
Why do people keep calling me crazy?
And his bullshit story about my dad is ludicrous. He doesn’t even know who he is or which flat it was… God, who am I kidding. He’s Max Carter.
“You mean you cheated on her?”
I grab my phone, quickly typing out a text to my dad.
HAYDEN: Did you pay Russell a visit, by any chance?
“We weren’t exclusive.”
“Or maybe you didn’t like that she got one over on you.”
“Why don’t we calm down,” Clayton interrupts, shaking his head in disapproval at me.
DAD: Did that pussy say I was there?
“Must be her time of the month,” Russ tries to joke.
“Or maybe I’m just done with people who don’t take this channel seriously.”
“Are you sure we don’t know each other?”
HAYDEN: Did you at least make sure no one saw you? You could lose your job if he decides to go to the police, Dad.
DAD: Kind of insulted you think I’m an idiot. I raised you better, girl.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure.”
“Russ, I’d find a substance that’s not going to gross you out. Try chocolate syrup or honey,” Clayton tells him. “That’s it for tonight. Dream will be here to take your calls next week.”
“You,” he growls, when the red ‘off air’ button comes on.
“I need to go; my dad needs me.” I get up, ready to make my break for it, when two arms sweep me off my feet and I’m thrown over his shoulder. “Put me down! This is misconduct.”
“Take it up with the boss,” he snidely remarks. “We need to talk.”
*** *** ***
“You didn’t need to carry me off like a lunatic,” I snap, slamming the car door.
“You wouldn’t listen,” he fires back, his green eyes seething. “You’ve ignored me all week.”
Of course I have.
I survey where we are, my stomach grumbling at all the different aromas coming from the restaurants. He’d brought me to the one place I would never run from. Blueborn food court. The place is gigantic, filled with different restaurants supplying a range of food.
“You could have just mentioned food,” I grumble under my breath, stomping up the entrance steps to Boo’s.
It’s my favourite place to get a burger. They have all kinds of amazing foods, but their burgers are their signature seller.
“Two please,” Clayton declares to the waitress.
She picks up two menus before leading us through the busy restaurant to a booth opposite the bar.
Since I’m in a mood, I don’t argue when Clayton orders our drinks, instead taking my jacket off before taking a seat.
“What was that back at work?” he asks, undoing his suit jacket as he takes a seat.
This is what he wants to talk about? Really?
“You don’t want to know.”
“I really do,” he tells me, but from the tone of his voice, I’d say he really doesn’t. He begins to shift in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally asking, “Are you really into that stuff?”
I burst out laughing. He clearly had selective hearing and only heard the worst parts of the conversation once he realised I knew who it was.
“Yes. Yes, I really am.”
He gapes, leaning forward on the table as he runs a hand over his jaw. “I mean, I assumed you knew the man, but I’ve been wrong before when trying to read you. I was just guessing he was an ex,” he rambles, paling somewhat.