The Rock Star's Virginity

Part 3

THREE

"Morning, Vee. How are your plans for the perfect wedding coming?" James' half-asleep morning voice sounded sexier than it had any right to. Especially when she was mad at him.

"Fine," Flavia lied. What else could she answer? It wasn't like she could say she'd seen a video of him having s*x with a p********e, so she hadn't done a thing about their wedding. She'd been too busy exploring options for revenge. True to her promise to Violet, she hadn't yet decided on a plan.

She'd waited all week until she felt her fury had simmered down enough for her to be civil on the phone. Only now could she say calmly, "Are you coming up today? I really want to see you."

"Aww, I miss you, too, Vee. No can do. I have to go to the auto auction today. There's a few clapped-out classics the boss wants me to keep an eye out for – ones that were stolen and trashed. He figures they'll go for a steal and we can use the parts for our other clients." The passion in James' voice was unmistakeable. If only he loved her half as much as he loved classic cars.

"Tomorrow, then?" she persisted. She couldn't ask him over the phone. She needed to look into his eyes and know he wasn't lying when he told her the man banging the p********e in the video wasn't him.

"Sorry, nope. Tomorrow I have to pick up whatever we win in the auction. Dazza's got the lift truck booked, because he's hoping to pick up one of the repossessed cars they're selling at the auction. A Holden, of all things. I've told him, he should be looking at classic Fords, like my Fairlane, but noooo...he wants that b****y Holden. I told him it's only the insurance company write-offs that go for a song, and he'll have to pay a premium if he wants the pristine queen of someone's private collection."

Pristine queen? An idea began to form in Flavia's mind. "What do you mean?"

"He's got his eye on this Sandman. Beautiful car, for a Holden. Seized by the police on her maiden voyage, speeding down the freeway. I bet the owner's pissed. Outside, the paint's red as the devil when he's wet and under the bonnet...shit, the devil himself would cream at the power. Brand-new everything and the sound of that engine...the vibration alone makes chicks' clothes fall off." James snorted. "Every man under fifty will want that baby and the bidding will go sky-high. Ha, I bet a few babies have been conceived in the back of that. Panel van big enough to stretch out in. It's a shagging wagon for sure. Alloy wheels, custom paint job, exhaust that you'll feel in your bones before you hear it..."

As James waxed lyrical about a car Flavia couldn't care less about, her mind drifted into the realm of possibilities. Auctions, bidding wars and maidens. It was perfect.

"How'd your pub crawl go last week?" she blurted out. "Did it go off with a bang, like you said it would?"

Silence for a moment. Finally, James said, "You mean the one for Davo? I left early. I wasn't feeling the best, so I had one drink, but I went home after the first pub."

On Sunday, he'd said he couldn't come over because he'd had a hangover from drinking too much. Flavia smelt a rat. One who wore James' favourite deodorant.

"Oh. One of the guys at the gym said he saw you with them pretty late. He said you were all drunk."

James hesitated for much too long before he let out a shaky laugh that sounded forced. "Nah, I was sick. Flu."

Liar. When James had the flu, he always called her to take care of him. His flu bouts never lasted less than a week. The bastard had slept with that p********e and now he was lying to her about it.

Flavia opened her mouth to spit out her accusation.

"Anyway, gotta go, Vee, or I'll be late to the auction. See you next weekend, maybe." James ended the call without waiting for her to say goodbye.

Or good riddance.

If James wanted an auction, she'd give him one. A bidding war from every man under fifty? Bring it on. She'd make his precious cars look cheap by comparison.